The last bell finally rang signaling the end of school. Students started packing their bags as they hurried home.
The class started getting empty leaving the teacher, Shonte and some other students.
"Hey Shonte?" The teacher called out as the other students left.
"Have you considered taking the scholarship offer?." The teacher asked worried.
Shonte looked at him and gave him the same answer he always did.
"No".
The teacher looked at him once again and took a deep breath.
"You know that this could be your only opportunity to get into any ivy leagues, right?."
"Sir, I don't plan on going to college or university after i finish high school." Shonte answered flatly.
***
The sky outside had already turned orange.
Shonte walked a few steps behind Cassandra and Silas in silence as they made their way home. His hands stayed shoved into the pockets of his hoodie while his thoughts kept drifting back to the library.
To the book.
Even now, hours later his nose still ached faintly. He could still remember the feeling of those words moving across the page like they were alive.
Ahead of him, Cassandra laughed at something on her phone before glancing back briefly.
"Can you stop walking so close to us?" she complained. "People are literally staring."
Shonte slowed his steps immediately.
"Sorry."
Silas barely looked up from his screen. "You apologize too much."
Cassandra spoke up,"Hey Silas."
"Yeah?"
"What'd you think would happen if i pushed the loser on the road?."
Silas stayed quiet for a second then answered.
"Well i guess we'll be rid of him."
No one spoke after that.
The rest of the walk home passed quietly except for the occasional sound of cars driving by.
Once they reached the house, Cassandra hurried inside first while Silas followed behind her.
Shonte stepped in last and quietly shut the door.
THUD.
A book hit the floor beside him.
Shonte flinched hard, instinctively stepping back while pain spread through his temple.
His father glared at him from the living room couch.
"How many times do i have to tell you to close the damn door gently?" he snapped.
"I-i'm sorry...."
"Stop apologizing and stop acting stupid for once."
Shonte quickly bent down and picked the book up from the floor with shaky hands before placing it carefully on the nearby table.
The television continued blaring loudly behind his father, filling the silence that followed.
His mother didn't even glance up from her phone in the kitchen.
Cassandra walked upstairs like nothing had happened.
Silas looked over briefly awkwardly looking away again.
Like always.
Shonte swallowed the tight feeling building in his throat and quietly slipped off his shoes.
"You're late," his father muttered a second later, already turning his attention back toward the television.
"School ended later today" Shonte answered softly.
His father grunted in response and that was the end of the conversation.
Shonte headed toward the hallway without another word.
Instead of going upstairs like Cassandra and Silas, he stopped beneath the small attic door built into the ceiling. A thin string hung down from it.
His room.
He reached up and pulled it carefully. The ladder unfolded downward with a loud creak.
Warm, dusty air drifted down immediately.
Shonte climbed slowly into the attic before pulling the hatch behind him.
The attic was small and cramped, filled with old boxes and furniture covered in sheets nobody bothered touching anymore. The ceiling slanted low enough that he had to duck slightly near the corners. A thin mattress sat against the wall beside a tiny desk stacked with books. A single round window overlooked the neighborhood outside.
It wasn't much but it was the only place in the house that felt even remotely like his.
Shonte dropped his bag on the floor before sitting on the edge of the mattress with a tired sigh.
His mind drifted back to the library again.
The strange words.
The weird, tingling feeling.
Maybe he should've told someone...but who would he tell?
No.
Even if he had someone to tell, they probably would have thought he was crazy.
Shonte rubbed his face tiredly before lying back against the mattress and staring up at the wooden ceiling above him.
For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about the book.
About how empty the pages looked at first, how the words only appeared after he touched them.
And somehow, deep down.
He had a horrible feeling that this wasn't over yet.