Books For Nine-year-olds の小説・ストーリー

The nine-year-old's memory and the fifteen-year-old's sight. Both versions of him. Both true.

“Quiet doesn’t mean unbothered. Just good at hiding it.” We fell into silence. The only sound was distant thunder rumbling above ground. I wondered how long we’d be down here. Minutes stretched. My mind wandered to how close he was. How alone we were. “Tell me something,” I said finally. “Why’d you become a librarian? You don’t seem like the type who likes being stuck behind a desk all day.” Mr. Kane exhaled softly. “Books don’t talk back. They don’t expect small talk. I like the order. And the stories. What about you? History major with a focus on obscure trade? That’s not common.”

"I don't know. I just thought I'd try a long book for a change." "Hey, I just remembered something," Caroline said. "This is funny. When I was in sixth grade, one time I read a really long book, the longest one in the class. Is this for one of Ms. Reeds' famous book reports? Mine was, too. What was it? That's right, The Yearling. It was a great book. A really great book. If you do another long book, read The Yearling." Caroline read The Yearling in sixth grade? Jane hadn't heard of the book until she was in high school.

Stopped. Walked in. A kid, maybe twenty, stood behind the counter, staring at his phone. "Do you have books for teenagers?" He looked up. "Like, Young Adult?" "I don't know. Sixteen-year-olds." "Yeah. YA section's in the back." I walked to the back. Found shelves labeled Young Adult Fiction. Pulled out a book at random. Read the back. Something about dragons. Shoved it back in. Pulled out another. Read the back.

Ora said, "He's not like that, Nina." "I know, I just—" I don't want him to help me anymore, I'd never learn how to do anything on my own. "Why don't we... Why don't we ask for something different? Perhaps?" Her friend raised an eyebrow, hands folded now. "Keep talking." Nine's lips quivered a bit as she spoke, shrugging a little. "I can— I can ask him if he could find someone to... Teach me how to read? And write? P- princesses should know how to do that, right? So it's— It's not a favour he's doing, it's for— for us both,"

He did not just understand them; he was really good with the words. Leon could not believe it. He felt a mix of surprise and a little bit of jealousy. Most three-year-olds were great if they could talk well and count to 3. Here was this kid, already reading English storybooks. It just was not fair how some kids were so smart.

Frank asked, glancing in his direction, and Ivaan turned to face him. “No,” He said and opened the book he was holding in his hand. “You’re reading ‘The Alchemist’? The reading level is grade seven, I think?” Frank said, and he hoped Ivaan would interact more with him. “It’s full of life lessons. Such books give me hope everything will turn out well in the end,” Ivaan said and Frank actually didn’t expect such an answer from a nine-year-old. “I am amazed. Now I know why your mom calls you a wonder boy!” He smiled, but it didn’t have any effect on Ivaan and now Frank was losing patience as they were close to his school.

Gerey turned his attention back to his bag instantly. With trembling hands, he zipped up his bag, exhaled and walked up to the Librarian who offered him a plastic blue tag that had the number ‘0169’ etched in black on it. “Uhm, do you know where I can find books on - fairy tales? For kids between the ages 7 to 12?” Gerey's eyeballs danced around for a yellow pair of eyes on a face with unusually large ears.

And even when they hadn’t… I no longer let them land. I had too much peace in me now. There wasn’t room for shame anymore. Back at the house, I carried the books Darren had ordered for the nursery upstairs and placed them on the newly assembled shelf. They were all hardcovers with soft pastel covers and gold-stamped lettering: Goodnight Moon, The Velveteen Rabbit, Where the Wild Things Are, Dream Big, Little One, I Am Enough. I traced the spine of each book with my fingertip, whispering the titles softly.