Read Online The Grimm Legacy by Polly Shulman - Free Book Online
Authors: Polly Shulman
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, Humorous stories, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Children's Books, Fantasy, People & Places, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Magic, Fantasy & Magic, Literary Criticism, Ages 9-12 Fiction, New York (N.Y.), Love & Romance, Children: Grades 4-6, Adventure and Adventurers, Adventure stories, Teenage girls, High school students, Fairy Tales, Children's Literature, Books & Libraries, Folklore, Libraries
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before.
Soon the patron brought them back. “Excuse me—you gave me the wrong boots.”
I checked the label, which was tied to the laces: I *GC 391.413 S94. “No,” I said. “The label matches the call number on your call slip.”
“Well, they must be mislabeled. They don’t work.”
“What do you mean they don’t work?” I said. “You mean they don’t fit?”
“They fit fine, they just don’t work. ”
“How can boots not work?”
He peered at me. “I think I’d better speak to a librarian. Could you get me your supervisor, please?”
“Okay.” I took the boots over to Anjali. “Where do they keep the phone around here?” I asked her. “I need Ms. Callender.”
“Ask Sarah to send her a pneum. Why, what’s up?”
“Some patron’s insisting these boots were mislabeled. It’s weird. He says they don’t work.”
“What? Show me.” Anjali sounded alarmed. I handed her the boots. “Oh, let’s not bother Ms. Callender about this,” she said hurriedly. “You can handle things without me for a few minutes, can’t you? I’ll be right back.” She went to the window and spoke to the patron, then hurried out.
I had a hard time keeping up with the arriving objects. One dumbwaiter would ping while I was taking something out of another, then the third would chime and open. Things kept piling up as I ran back and forth between the dumbwaiters and the desk. I wondered how Anjali had managed it all so gracefully.
A line formed at the window, and the patrons started murmuring, a soft but threatening noise. The little man with the beard frowned at me when I let one of the globes slip and hit the base against the desk. I was relieved when Anjali came back with a pair of boots in her hand.
“Good, you’re back—I was starting to panic. Are those the right boots?”
“Yes, they were misshelved.”
“So that’s a different pair?” They looked the same to me.
She nodded and beckoned to the boot patron, who took the new boots and sniffed at them.
After a muttered conversation with Anjali that I couldn’t hear over the conveyor belt, he left with the boots, apparently satisfied.
“Everything cool?” I asked Anjali.
“Yes, it’s fine now,” she said. “You don’t need to bother Ms. Callender about it. I straightened it out.”
“Okay,” I said.
When Ms. Callender came in with Marc, Anjali looked momentarily worried, but she relaxed when he smiled at her reassuringly.
Ms. Callender consulted her clipboard. “Marc, you’re on dumbwaiters. Sarah, man the window, okay, hon? And Anjali, would you mind showing Elizabeth how to handle the tubes? I’ll be on 6 if you run into any difficulties.”
Anjali pointed me to the stool where Sarah had been sitting. She pulled up another wheeled stool in front of the tangle of tubes, where the pneums were hammering down.
“We’re basically operating a switchboard,” she told me. “All the pneum stations all over the building have a tube that leads here to us. A few of them are connected directly to each other, but most of them aren’t, so if someone wants to send a pneum from Stack 4, say, to Stack 7, it has to go through us.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” I said.
“It is. We have to send them on quickly or the whole system backs up, and it’s easy to make a mistake. But don’t worry too much—if you send a pneum to the wrong stack, they’ll just send it back here.”
The job was exhausting yet exhilarating, like a video game. I had a thousand rules to remember. Anything in a red pneum went to Stack 6, where the librarians had their offices. Blue pneums went straight to Dr. Rust. Pneums carrying call slips went to the appropriate stack. I had to memorize which stack held which collection. Tools were on Stack 5, household items on 9, fungibles on 8.
“What on earth is a fungible?” I asked Anjali.
“Something that needs a lot of replacing.”
“You mean things like lightbulbs and paper towels?”
“No,
Soon the patron brought them back. “Excuse me—you gave me the wrong boots.”
I checked the label, which was tied to the laces: I *GC 391.413 S94. “No,” I said. “The label matches the call number on your call slip.”
“Well, they must be mislabeled. They don’t work.”
“What do you mean they don’t work?” I said. “You mean they don’t fit?”
“They fit fine, they just don’t work. ”
“How can boots not work?”
He peered at me. “I think I’d better speak to a librarian. Could you get me your supervisor, please?”
“Okay.” I took the boots over to Anjali. “Where do they keep the phone around here?” I asked her. “I need Ms. Callender.”
“Ask Sarah to send her a pneum. Why, what’s up?”
“Some patron’s insisting these boots were mislabeled. It’s weird. He says they don’t work.”
“What? Show me.” Anjali sounded alarmed. I handed her the boots. “Oh, let’s not bother Ms. Callender about this,” she said hurriedly. “You can handle things without me for a few minutes, can’t you? I’ll be right back.” She went to the window and spoke to the patron, then hurried out.
I had a hard time keeping up with the arriving objects. One dumbwaiter would ping while I was taking something out of another, then the third would chime and open. Things kept piling up as I ran back and forth between the dumbwaiters and the desk. I wondered how Anjali had managed it all so gracefully.
A line formed at the window, and the patrons started murmuring, a soft but threatening noise. The little man with the beard frowned at me when I let one of the globes slip and hit the base against the desk. I was relieved when Anjali came back with a pair of boots in her hand.
“Good, you’re back—I was starting to panic. Are those the right boots?”
“Yes, they were misshelved.”
“So that’s a different pair?” They looked the same to me.
She nodded and beckoned to the boot patron, who took the new boots and sniffed at them.
After a muttered conversation with Anjali that I couldn’t hear over the conveyor belt, he left with the boots, apparently satisfied.
“Everything cool?” I asked Anjali.
“Yes, it’s fine now,” she said. “You don’t need to bother Ms. Callender about it. I straightened it out.”
“Okay,” I said.
When Ms. Callender came in with Marc, Anjali looked momentarily worried, but she relaxed when he smiled at her reassuringly.
Ms. Callender consulted her clipboard. “Marc, you’re on dumbwaiters. Sarah, man the window, okay, hon? And Anjali, would you mind showing Elizabeth how to handle the tubes? I’ll be on 6 if you run into any difficulties.”
Anjali pointed me to the stool where Sarah had been sitting. She pulled up another wheeled stool in front of the tangle of tubes, where the pneums were hammering down.
“We’re basically operating a switchboard,” she told me. “All the pneum stations all over the building have a tube that leads here to us. A few of them are connected directly to each other, but most of them aren’t, so if someone wants to send a pneum from Stack 4, say, to Stack 7, it has to go through us.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” I said.
“It is. We have to send them on quickly or the whole system backs up, and it’s easy to make a mistake. But don’t worry too much—if you send a pneum to the wrong stack, they’ll just send it back here.”
The job was exhausting yet exhilarating, like a video game. I had a thousand rules to remember. Anything in a red pneum went to Stack 6, where the librarians had their offices. Blue pneums went straight to Dr. Rust. Pneums carrying call slips went to the appropriate stack. I had to memorize which stack held which collection. Tools were on Stack 5, household items on 9, fungibles on 8.
“What on earth is a fungible?” I asked Anjali.
“Something that needs a lot of replacing.”
“You mean things like lightbulbs and paper towels?”
“No,
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