Page 97 of The Prom Queen Project
“Seriously, though, what’d you think of it?”
“It was good. Sad…but good. Kinda hit me without any warning, ya know?”
“Yeah. I do know.”
Elliot propped open the door to the main entrance of the Summerville Library, waving me inside. A rush of cool air greeted me, offering safe haven from the torturous sun that was scalding my skin. A bead of sweat traced its way down the back of Elliot’s neck, causing me to exhale shakily.
“You ready to meet a bunch of old ladies in their sixties who knit sweaters and read for sport?”
“Actually, they’re only in their thirties and only one of them likes to knit.”
“Wait. How do you know that?”
As we stepped inside, I let out a soft chuckle at the way Elliot’s face lit up in awe.
Sunlight poured through the glass panes lining the walls, casting a warm glow over the rows of rustic bookshelves that filled the space. String lights draped from the wooden rafters, adding to the building’s cozy, old-world charm. Soft, melodic music drifted through the air, blending with the faint murmur of hushed conversations. To the side, a small adjoining room housed a cluster of computers, but the main area was serene—everyone lost in their own literary worlds. Despite the stillness, the space felt vibrant and full of life.
Elliot’s lips parted slightly as he drew in a slow breath. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a smile curving across my face. I could barely remember the last time I had stepped foot in the Summerville Library, but it had been too long. My plan to win Prom Queen had consumed most of my life, limiting my spare time. If only I had realized sooner that I didn’t have to choose between what made me happy and my social status.
“This place is amazing.”
“I know.”
“Howdoyou know?”
“I used to come here a lot after school. I got to know some of the ladies who work here.”
“You read everything in here yet?”
“Almost,” I teased.
“Hey, Clarke,” Elliot spoke as he studied our surroundings. “I think I like libraries.”
I laughed as we headed over to the front desk to start volunteering. The routine was simple—check out books byscanning the barcode on the back cover, and do the same to check them back in.
Elliot’s job was to return the books I processed while rolling a trolley between the aisles as he carefully placed each one back in its proper spot.And get this—his favorite librarian turned out to be the oldest of the bunch, Jackie, who was also the knitting enthusiast he unknowingly mocked earlier.Ironic, right?
Still, the best part was having an excuse to hang out with Elliot every week, again. Not that we really needed one—we saw each other almost every day. And when we didn’t, I wished we had. For the next two Fridays at four o’clock, we met at the library and slipped into another world. That was the magic of books—their ability to let us escape. So, when four o’clock rolled around for the third Friday, I could hardly wait to vanish into our own little fairytale, where reality blurred at the edges and the only thing that existed was us. That was until Elliot texted me saying he pushed our volunteering session back by four hours.
Four hours.
I could do that.
Spoiler alert—I couldn’t.
It was the longest four hours of my life. I tried to read, but I couldn’t stop my mind from buzzing as my thoughts drifted from one topic to another. Each sentence I read felt like a puzzle, forcing me to go over it multiple times before the meaning finally sank in.
Frustrated, I gave up and mindlessly doom-scrolled through Instagram instead. My fingers went numb from swiping before I finally landed on a bizarre post—some guy promoting LED signs in response to a clearly Caucasian girl insisting she was African American. There was absolutely no connection between the two—none at all. But it was ridiculously funny.
On another one of his posts, he responds to a guy teaching people what to do if a girl wants to sleep with you by saying “Not interested,” and then once again goes on to promote LED signs. I cackled at the screen. By this point, his videos were all overmy ‘For You’ page.One rabbit hole later, I ended up following his account, @ledsinage_lcsign. Unironically, it was the best content I’d come across in a while.
At 7:45 p.m., my alarm went off, reminding me it was time to head out. I grabbed my keys, hopped in my car, and made the short drive to the library, excited to show Elliot some of the videos I found. I knew he’d get a kick out of them. When I pulled into the parking lot, it was eerily quiet. The moon had replaced the sun, illuminating the sky while leaving the streets blanketed in darkness. A few lampposts bathed the pavement in a soft glow as I stepped out of the car and made my way to the library.
At eight o’clock, was the library even open?
I pressed my forehead against the door, peering through the glass, but it looked even darker inside than it did outside.The fuck?I tried the handle, and to my surprise, it was unlocked. I stepped in and called out for Elliot.
“Hello? Anyone in here?”
