Pulse

“It’s like they all just got up and walked away and didn’t look back. It’s beautiful and strange and lonely, you know?”
    For once Hawk didn’t answer. He was staring back in the direction of his Tablet, thinking about bolting for the cafeteria.
    “Here we are, my favorite place on Earth,” Faith said, inviting them in like a magician’s assistant. “Oh, wait! Forgot the lights. Don’t go anywhere.”
    Faith ran back in the direction from which they’d come, and Hawk tried to follow her. But Liz had a strong grip, and that grape bubblegum breath and those dark curls of hair draped across the sides of her face.
    “Steady now,” she said. “She’ll be right back.”
    And she was. The dancing beam of a flashlight arrived quickly, and Faith handed out two more. All three of them, wielding old flashlights of their own, stepped inside the room and looked around.
    “I bet they don’t have one of these at either of the States,” Faith said. She looked down at Hawk. “Have you ever seen one before?”
    Hawk let go of Liz’s hand and pointed his flashlight every which way. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one. It smells funny in here.”
    “That’s the scent of books,” Faith said, taking in a big breath through her nose. “I love it. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
    They were standing in a grade school library that had been abandoned but left undisturbed. Faith arrived at the far corner of the room and put her hand on a row of tall, skinny picture books. The feeling of their slick spines against her fingers as they passed by, like little speed bumps, made her heart beat faster.
    “Once everyone had a Tablet, no one wanted these anymore. But there’s something different about holding them in your hands.”
    Hawk was scanning a line of picture books with his flashlight, reading the titles.
    “These are in the data cloud; everyone has access to them. I’ve read them all. It’s crazy that people used to have to lug these things around. What a hassle.”
    Liz had peeled off along the wall of books and pulled out a stack. She flopped down in an orange beanbag, and small bits of white Styrofoam shot up in the air through a hole in one side.
    “I always forget about that before I sit down,” she said. “One of these days I’m going to be sitting on an empty bag. That’s gonna hurt.”
    Hawk still couldn’t believe he was in a dark space with two older girls. He eyed Faith’s long legs and Liz’s dark hair as it spilled over the beanbag chair. He wished he could kiss one of them but knew that would be tricky.
    Ignorant of Hawk’s desires, Faith held out a book and said, “ The Sneetches are different in print. This will change your life.”
    Hawk leaned back on his heels. He’d never touched a book before. He kept thinking about all the people who had touched the book, all those snotty little hands who’d also played by the lake outside. The book had a musty odor to it, like nothing he’d ever smelled before; and this, too, bothered him. He was used to the cleanness of his Tablet, the glass surface, the brushed metal casing, and the billion things inside, all vibrant and new.
    “It’s not really my thing,” Hawk said, backing away from the book a step or two like Faith were holding a live badger.
    “Suit yourself, but I’m telling you, it’s not the same. And it won’t hurt you.”
    Faith set the book back on the shelf and took two others— Green Eggs and Ham and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! —and walked to the old librarian’s desk.
    “She likes to feel like she’s in charge,” Liz joked from the beanbag.
    Faith sat down at the desk and opened to the first page of Green Eggs and Ham , holding her flashlight so the faded colors punched up in the darkness. And then she smiled a special sort of smile, a contented one, a smile that Hawk saw in the light bouncing off the pages. She was touching one of the pages, tracing the lines of the drawings with her finger, lost in a way he didn’t understand. She retrieved a piece of paper and a pencil from the librarian’s desk and began drawing the picture from the book.
    It was the smile more than anything else that got Hawk to touch a real book for the first time in his life. That and the fact that he ached for his Tablet, and he thought maybe The Sneetches would help him forget about how badly he felt. He did love the strange creatures with stars on their round bellies.
    “Dr. Seuss,” he said, “don’t fail me