Tangled

16 Ava: Settling In (II)

Thunk.

That’s it. That’s the last book, tossed onto a pile of mystery novels. Fifteen boxes are now empty, and while it might appear that my apartment is little more than a haphazard pile of empty boxes and organized book piles, my heart breathes with the room I’ve created by tackling the monster that is everything Mrs. Elkins stored in this apartment for the last who knows how long.

The couch is soft and springy as I flop onto it, taking a well–deserved break. Selene’s ears perk up at my sudden display of enthusiasm, but she doesn’t move, content to rest by the front door, which happens to be one of the few places in the living room not covered in something.

“We did it, Selene! We’ve tackled the monster and unpacked it all!”

Well, everything that was in the living room. The kitchen still has a few boxes, and let’s not even talk about the bedroom. But the living room? The living

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16 Ava: Settling in (11)

room is done, and that’s what matters.

I survey the piles of books scattered around the room, separated by genre. There’s a stack of classics, a pile of contemporary fiction, a few biographies, and even a small collection of poetry. The biggest pile by far, though, is near and dear to my heart. Romance. Tantalizing little bodice–rippers with bare male chests whispering to me, enticing me to flip them open and be drawn into a world of magical, mystical, perfect

men.

I used to read them whenever I had a chance. The

White Peak library was full of them, and I was desperate for any happy ever after I could get my hands on.

They’re a lot less appealing these days.

I rub my chest, frustrated by the ache that likes to poke its head out in my weak moments, and snap a quick photo of the piles to send to Mrs. Elkins.

[AVA: What should I do with all these books?]

Selene seems to realize that I’m done moving for a while and slinks over on her silent paws, jumping beside me. She circles once, twice, then settles down,

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16 Ava: Sottling In (1)

her head resting on my thigh. I scratch behind her soft ears as I wait for Mrs. Elkins‘ response.

My phone buzzes.

your own library. They’ve already been up there

Pack, books were a luxury. Books were unnecessary, and Mom and Dad weren’t interested in feeding my addiction to fantasy worlds and lives that could take me

by the musty

seem so far–fetched.

cold nose snuffles against my hand, and I realize I’ve stopped petting

if it was ever an option to get rid of them. Who

a contented sigh, which I choose to interpret

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<

Settling

the spines of the books, their textures as varied as their titles. Some are smooth, others ridged, a few even

to read, mine to cherish,

But where?

huff of displeasure at being disturbed, and survey the living room with a critical eye. The walls are bare, save for a few generic paintings that came with the

that will hold

go on a lower shelf, maybe under the window. And the romance novels? They deserve a special place, perhaps a little nook in the corner where I can curl up and lose

that could

room in not

inat

14

had a

Ava: Settling

just maybe, I could squeeze a small shelf into the bathroom. For those long soaks in the tub, when I

determined. These books have waited long enough to be read, to be

her spot on the couch, her blue eyes curious. “What do you think, girl? Should

head, considering, then lets out

bark.

take that as a yes as my mind races down the rabbithole of shopping, of crisp white bookshelves and the colorful book spines that would enliven them up. Maybe I would even do something a

by color. It would be impractical,

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Ava: Settling In

little dreams dance and twirl through my mind until they stop with a jerk and a dip in my belly as reality sets in. Bookshelves cost money. Money that I don’t have in abundance, not with my barista wages. Not with how much I’ve spent just to establish life

Happy Ava is gone, and regular Ava is back. Selene senses my mood shift and nuzzles my

comfort.

saving for school is more

a car, once I’m settled in

stories, languishing in piles on the floor

into rustic shelves, repurposing ladders into quirky bookcases, even building shelves, from scratch

ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access

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Settling in (1)

staring at my walls. It

at the excitement in my voice.