Clark slid into the passenger’s seat, closing the door behind him. He’d secured his bicycle to the rack on the back of Lois’s car, and now he set his backpack on the floor in front of him.
“I want to thank you,” Clark said.
“For not getting you killed on the way to the library?” Lois grinned. “Wait until we get there.”
He shuddered. “Not that, although I’d appreciate it if you’d make an effort.”
Considering that he made his living weaving in and out of traffic during the rush hour in a city with more than eight million people, Lois didn’t think he had a lot to say about her driving. Of course, he might be one of those people who were only comfortable when they weren’t in control.
Given her current warm and fuzzy feelings toward him, Lois didn’t care.
“Why are you thanking me?” she asked as she turned the ignition. Her diesel rabbit sputtered to life.
“You treated the guys like human beings,” Clark said.
Lois froze with her hand on the gear shift. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“It doesn’t happen very often,” Clark said. “They’re invisible to most people, and the ones who do see them are usually condescending, even the ones saying they’re trying to help.”
“I…” Lois said.
“You sat right next to them and talked to them like they were people,” Clark said. “You didn’t wipe the seat off or wash your hands. I was proud of you.”
Lois felt a moment of shame. She’d felt a little squeamish about sitting next to them. If she hadn’t been so confused about her feelings for Clark, she probably would have hesitated. She still wondered if she was feeling something moving in her shirt. Worrying about lice and fleas was only natural, under the circumstances.
“Thanks,” Lois said. She forced herself to smile. Telling him the truth would only hurt him, and she suspected that she’d need all the credit with him she could muster. Once her story went through, it was possible he might have some problems from the principal or the team.
For a moment she considered killing the story. Unlike Clark, she could always turn to her father when it came time to go to college, although there would be a price for that. Clark had been through a lot.
She frowned slightly and put her car into gear. She turned and began backing out of her parking space.
Depending on her father would cost more than she was willing to pay. She’d just have to make sure that when the time came, none of the blame could be assigned to Clark. She’d have to be careful about being seen with him at school.
“What?” Clark asked. He was watching her intensely.
“I was just thinking about the assignment,” Lois lied.
Clark nodded. He unzipped his bag and pulled out the paper on which he’d written the assignment.
“Analyze the different explanations for the Great Depression and how the New Deal fundamentally changed the role of the government. Discuss the human toll of the Depression, natural disasters and unwise agricultural practices and their effect on the depopulation of rural regions and on political
movements of the left or right, with particular emphasis on Dust Bowl refugees and their social and economic impacts in California.”
“Is everybody getting the same assignment?” he asked.
Lois shook her head. “I talked to some of the others. Some of them are getting assignments on the major developments of the 1920s, some about race relations since the 1920s, and some about World War II.”
“So he’s not just picking on us,” Clark said.
“He’s just like that,” Lois said.
There wasn’t much either of them could say to that.
******************
“How’s your grandson, Agnes?” Clark asked the woman at the reception desk.
The woman had to be as old as Lois’s grandmother, but her face lit up at Clark’s question. “He’s doing a lot better. Your advice helped.”
The librarians all seemed to know Clark. They called him by name, smiled at him and seemed to go out of their way to be helpful.
Clark seemed to know them all as well. Although Lois had always thought Libraries were supposed to be quiet, he asked each of them questions about their private lives and families.
What he didn’t ask was where to find what they were looking for. Instead he simply smiled and headed back into the stacks.
“Aren’t we going to go to the card catalogue?” Lois asked.
“I know where the books we’re looking for are,” Clark said. At her questioning look he said, “Before I was old enough to get the jobs I have now, I spent a lot of time in the library last year.”
It took him less than a minute to reach the section they were looking for, and he began pulling books from the shelves.
“We’re not going to have time to go through all of these,” Lois said, feeling a little panicked. She wanted to have some weekend left, and she doubted that the library would be open on Sunday.
“I’m a speed reader,” Clark said, “Remember?”
True to his word, he found a table for them set back in the stacks. There were three chairs set out for people to sit and read, but otherwise they were alone.
It soon became clear that Clark wasn’t lying about his reading. Somehow he was able to flip through books and find relevant passages almost instantly, although Lois didn’t believe he was reading every word. He was just very good at skimming, but it was a skill she found herself envying.
Homework would be a breeze if she could master that kind of skill.
If it hadn’t been for the subject matter, she’d have enjoyed herself. Clark was an excellent partner. Most of the people she’d worked with before either let her do all the work, or they’d tried to take over the project and ended up spending more time arguing than getting things done.
With Clark, there was a kind of synergy. She was on top of her game, and they got things done at a record pace.
Lois found herself being horrified by what she was learning, however.
Clark found microfiche and even old film strips, and they listened to first-hand accounts on old recordings. Apparently, President Roosevelt had sent legions of people out to record and photograph everything as part of his jobs program.
Images of people huddled in cardboard houses, homeless and dressed little different than the men she’d seen in Brother Wayman’s church battled with images of skies darkened with dust or sometimes with locusts.
Farmers had plowed up prairie lands that had been held down by native grasses for millions of years; the great depression had hit and grain prices dropped. Farmers had tried to farm even more land to make up the money they’d lost. Drought had occurred and the topsoil had been blown away in the wind.
The dust storms stretched across the country; after particularly bad ones, President Roosevelt could run his fingers across his desk in the oval office and pick up dust from Oklahoma.
Although the first hand stories were vivid, they wouldn’t have affected Lois so much if she hadn’t found herself looking at Clark.
He spent a lot of time with people just like this every day, people who lived like the world hadn’t moved on from the Great Depression even though they lived in the middle of the most prosperous city in the world.
Clark’s insights were always on the money, and he didn’t seem to mind her furtive glances, even though they made Lois feel horribly embarrassed.
She tried not to keep looking at him, but somehow she couldn’t. Part of it was her curiosity about what he thought; the rest of it was a weird fascination with the shape of his face.
How could she have gone almost two months ignoring him? He’d walked by her every day in class and she’d barely acknowledged that he’d existed. Yet now she couldn’t help but look at him and think he was beautiful.
People came and went, sitting in the chairs to read before they moved on. Lois barely acknowledged them.
Once, though, when they’d been working for three hours, Clark stopped her.
There was a teenager sitting slumped in one of the chairs. His presence had barely registered to Lois, but Clark carefully rose and walked over to the boy, who seemed to be about their age. The boy tensed as Clark approached, but as Clark spoke to him in low tones, Lois could see the boy’s body relax.
Clark handed the boy something and the boy got up and left.
“What was that about?” Lois asked as Clark returned.
“I gave him some information about where to find a shelter,” Clark said. “And a hot meal.”
“What, him?” Lois asked. The boy hadn’t looked any different than any of the other boys she saw at school every day. He certainly hadn’t looked like any of the men at Brother Wayman’s.
“His backpack was full of clothes,” Clark said. “If it was filled with books it would hang differently. A lot of homeless people come here because it’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer and people don’t harass you if you fall asleep.”
“Maybe he was going to the gym,” Lois protested.
“He had the look,” Clark said, shrugging. “I’d rather risk insulting someone by being wrong instead of letting somebody be hungry and cold when I can stop it.”
“OK,” Lois said.
It was a philosophy that wasn’t anything like what her parents had taught her. Her parents view had only been reinforced by her time in school. They believed that what was important was what people thought. It was important to avoid embarrassment at all costs, even if it meant keeping secrets.
It was hard for Lois to imagine just walking up to someone and asking if they were homeless and needed help.
Somehow it only made Clark seem even more attractive.
****************
“We should write this up at home,” Lois said. “I’ve got a computer and a printer.”
“You’ve got a computer?”
“A Commodore 64,” Lois said proudly. Of the gifts her father had given her, this was the only one she really cared about. Not having to use white-out on her copy was going to make her story much easy to write, even if she could only write three pages at a time.
“I thought we couldn’t do this at your house?” Clark asked.
“My father has a weekly poker game Saturday afternoons when he’s not out of town,” Lois said, grimacing. “Usually he’s done by now and off with his girlfriend of the week.”
Clark nodded. “I don’t have anywhere to be until later this evening.”
Right. It’d take people a while to drink enough to generate the cans Clark would collect.
“You don’t have any courier jobs?” Lois asked.
“I don’t usually have any on a Saturday unless I pick up a shift from someone,” Clark said. “Most courier business is on weekdays anyway.”
“Great!” Lois said. She smiled, despite the sudden butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
Her computer was in her room, and they were going to be alone. It had occurred to her that they might need to type up their paper, so she’d carefully cleaned her room and hidden anything that might be embarrassing.
Still, she’d be alone with him in her room. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal when she’d thought about it earlier in the week; all he’d been had been a helpful friend who made her tingle a little when they touched. Avoiding temptation would simply mean avoiding touching him.
Now, though, she was having trouble looking away from him. Over the past few hours it felt like she’d mapped every contour and plane of his face a thousand times in her mind.
Being alone with him was feeling more and more dangerous by the moment, yet Lois found herself gathering up their notes. By this point all that was left was to type the project, which she could easily do on her own.
Somehow, although it would make sense to tell him to leave, she couldn’t make herself do it.
Was that all it took to tempt her? A handsome face and a kind heart? Admittedly she’d only realized this evening just how quick his mind was, and she’d already known he was loyal and strong.
Why did she suddenly feel like everything was happening too fast, careening out of her control?
