Janice knew that Sam liked magic. He had shared in circle that morning his desire to learn how to make a coin appear and disappear, and his dopey face grew all excited as he gesticulated and pantomimed a trick he had no idea how it worked. The other students watched, transfixed by the energy and enthusiasm–if he learned how to do it he’d have a day or two of popularity, Janice thought.
And Sam knew this, too. When he had begun the share, he simply wanted to know how the trick worked. Pulling an imaginary dime from his ear, he realized that all eyes where on him. Yanking a non-existent hanky from his hand, his peers, looking at his empty palm, had, for a moment, forgotten that there had never been a coin there.
They were his.
Only the trick would replicate this level of attention: No more falling off of chairs for a laugh.
So when Janice put another book into the Night Librarian tote bag she had a sense of the transgression she was making. It had been a momentary lapse of librarian code. Coming to the library from circle, she had browsed the sparce magic section–793.8–and had found one with that very trick in it. Placing it on the counter, Janice had gone about her other duties and collected a few books for the Night Librarian tote bag. With a small pile, she proceeded to place small notes on each so they would find their owners.
And then she slipped.
Taking the note for Isabelle, she slipped it into the book of magic. Isabelle had sat next to Sam–he was sure to see the book and go into one of his rages. For a moment, Janice chuckled and then the thought was gone. Isabelle had always been destined for the magic book, and Sam…