The Notebook Genie
My feet could barely hold my balance as I strained to grasp the book on the top shelf. Tiptoes planted on the ladder, and I extended my arm to grab onto the cover. My fingertips found the edges and wiggled between the books on both sides until I had a firm enough grasp to pull the book off the shelf. The book came tumbling down from above, and I caught it clinging to the hardcover and bringing it protectively to my chest. Balance assured by my trusty ladder, whose days have been spent with me climbing up and down pursuing our library, I turn the book over in my hand. As I run my hand across the Italian leather hardcover surface, I notice the notebook was lighter than I had expected. The manufacturer had rounded the corners, and a single elastic closure bound the notebook. It squealed with delight as I release its security and open it. I had thought I had thoroughly explored every notebook, novel, and journal in my grandpa’s study, but somehow this notebook had escaped my attention until now. I stuffed the notebook into my backpack and slid down the ladder, hitting the floor with a loud thud. I landed on my feet but misjudged how slippery the floor would be with my wet boots. I face-planted, hitting my head on the wooden floor. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, dazed, and sat up, rubbing my head with the tips of my fingers.
