The Librarian (Book One: Little Boy Lost) Read Online Free PDF Page B

without anyone hearing. He silently wondered just how long he’d been standing there.
       “Oh yeah,” Randy said, the hustler’s charm back in full effect. “I was just showing my friends the book you gave me.”
       “Ah!” The librarian drew in a long breath. “Take good care of that book, Randy. The book and anything you find within its pages. It’s quite... well, it’s special to me.”
       “I’m not going to let it out of my sight.” He threw an arm around Taylor. “Trust me.”
       “Yeah, right!” Taylor said, pulling away from Randy. The librarian didn’t notice her disgust.
       “Tell me,” the librarian began. “What did you think of the literature displays on the lower level?”
       “I don’t know,” Randy answered with a shrug. “They’re all right, I guess. The one for Wizard of Oz – we’ve been talking about that all day – some of that stuff doesn’t look anything like it did in the movie. I thought the slippers were supposed to be red.”
       “Bah!” The librarian scoffed. “The movie was brilliant, but if you think that’s all there is to the Land of Oz...” He didn’t finish.
       “ We love the displays.” Taylor punctuated her statement with a dirty look in Randy’s direction. “Besides, everyone knows the best stuff from Oz got left out of the movie.”
       “What about the carvings?” Wesley asked, finally inserting himself into the conversation.
       “Ah! Those.” The librarian turned to face Wesley. ”Well, there is a carving for each display in the library. Each display has a carving to go with it a vice-versa.”
       “Your assistant said you collected them from all over the world.” Wesley’s follow-up earned a look of concern from the old man.
       “That’s right.”
       “But they all look the same. Same wood and everything. Like they were made by the same person.”
       “True. But you’ll—“
       “Plus they all have this weird symbol at the top, and that symbol is all over the place in this library.”
       “What’s your name, child?” The librarian was getting frustrated. He was growing fond of the boy’s inquisitive nature, but Wesley’s questions were starting to feel more like an interrogation than the curious musings of an interested kid.
       “Wesley. Wesley Bates.”
       The old man leaned over, saying something into Wesley’s ear but allowing the others to hear all the same. “You know there are puzzles like that scattered through this whole building, Wesley.”
       “Whatever,” Randy mumbled. What was going on? He thought he was the librarian’s favorite.
       The librarian straightened, looking over his glasses and down his long nose at Randy. “I’m surprised to hear you weren’t impressed with the displays, Randy.”
       “I said they were okay .”
       “I noticed your last name is Stanford,” the librarian said. “You aren’t by chance related to Douglas Stan—“
       “Douglas Stanford? Yeah. That’s my dad.”
       The boy had answered with pride, ready to tell the world Douglas Stanford was his dad, but the librarian’s eyes grew as round and as wide as saucers.
       All at once, the old man began ushering the children down the hallway, long arms scooping up two kids on either side of him. “You children should probably get along. I’m sure your teacher is wondering about you by now.”
       “Wait a minute,” Wesley started.
       The librarian was already moving back down the corridor. Wesley and Taylor watched him go. Randy and Caleb didn’t really care, already walking away to join the rest of their class.
       “Thank you so much for coming,” the old man said, his back to Wesley and Taylor. “I hope you’ll visit again soon.”
       “But, sir. I—“ The librarian was gone.
       Wesley turned to Taylor beside him. “What was that?” Finding himself increasingly frustrated, Wesley hurried down the corridor after the