Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Barbara doesn’t like change. This is something she’s long accepted and has little intention of ever remedying. 

Change comes in the form of a new librarian. An experienced older woman. Someone with plenty of education. Someone who, in theory, should know what she’s doing. 

And maybe she does, Barbara laments, but that doesn’t mean she has to be happy with the practices and so-called improvements that come with Ms. Rosalyn Inez and her sizeable hats, kind eyes, and annoyingly earnest nature. 

The truth is, Ms. Inez makes Barbara feel inadequate. With all of her Google document forms, links that don’t open, and nonsensical schedules that leave disappointed kindergartners in their wake. 

At the end of the day, it’s the all-encompassing feeling of inadequacy that comes with being left behind in this new age of technology. No matter how much Jacob tries to help her learn the intricacies of wiki-whatever and their new online grading system that reads like hieroglyphics to her, she fears she will never be able to catch up. 

But Ms. Inez seems to have it all put together, all figured out. She runs the library with kindness first, keeping everything in line with organizational skills that rival Janine’s. And the children adore her, which is maybe what’s most infuriating of all. It would be easier if she had a companion in her feelings, but everyone seems drawn to the librarian in a way she can certainly understand–but resents nonetheless. 

Barbara tries her hardest not to like the woman. But their joint storytimes—a metaphorical olive branch that she thought might be a one-time offer—have become the highlights of her week. That high-pitched voice no longer gets on her nerves, and lately, the sight of her moving across the hall suddenly starts Barbara’s heart beating a bit faster. It’s not her fault that Ms. Inez somehow lights up every room she steps into, but it does make the silent grudge she’s carrying that much harder to uphold. 

“You okay Barb?” Melissa looks up from her phone long enough to notice that she’s been sitting completely still for most of the morning, her coffee gone cold ten minutes ago. “The gears in your head are turning so fast I can almost hear them, we gonna have a factory fire?” 

Barbara thanks the Lord that Melissa can’t hear what’s going through her head. 

“I’m alright, just tired.”

She knows Melissa doesn’t believe her. Ever since Barbara’s divorce finalized in the summer, her best friend has been chiding her for not sharing the full extent of her feelings. And maybe she hasn’t been a completely open book–but the last thing she ever wants to do is become a burden to those around her. Besides, it’s not as if it wasn’t her decision to go through with the matter. She’s happier now. She really is. 

She feels Melissa shift next to her, putting her phone down and moving the glasses to the bridge of her nose as if she’s going to start something–but she doesn’t have time to before the door to the teachers' lounge creaks open and draws their attention. 

Ms. Inez steps in, her hat visible before the rest of her. She can almost feel Melissa choke back another joke about the size of the thing, but as much as her best friend likes to joke, she pulls off the accessory well. Not that she would ever admit this to Mr. Johnson, who proclaims himself the greatest hat-wearer of the bunch following his incident with Gregory earlier last year.

The librarian looks… underwhelmed, to say the least. And how could she not, with a refrigerator missing a door handle, yellowing tiles on the ceiling and floor, and a coffee machine that whistles incessantly while brewing? 

To Barbara’s knowledge, it’s the first time Ms. Inez has ventured out into any shared spaces beside the library, and from the look on her face, it’s an experience she won’t soon forget.

“Rosalyn!” Janine is the first to speak up, tucked away in the corner in a heated conversation with Gregory. “I hope Abbott has been living up to your expectations so far, we are extremely happy to have you here.”

“Yeah, I sure hope this crumbling break room is everything you imagined,” Melissa replies in gest, ignoring when Barbara swiftly kicks her under the table. 

Ms. Inez, to her credit, doesn’t falter. “Abbott has been wonderful. Perhaps not what I imagined, but good people generally make up for the rest.” 

“Well, we have no shortage of good people here, so you’ve come to the right school,” Janine looks on at all of them fondly, and it warms Barbara’s heart in a way that only she can. 

Janine hasn’t been by to see her lately, their last conversation was one of great tension. She only hopes that Janine doesn’t stay upset with her for too long. 

The bell rings, signifying that they have five minutes to get to their classes before the day begins. Melissa and Jacob are quick to file out, chattering on about last night’s episode of Real Housewives, and Janine and Gregory are still engaging in whatever conversation they were pulled from before. 

And then there’s just Barbara. Barbara who has yet to take her eyes off Ms. Inez, with no other explanation for herself other than curiosity. The woman looks different here, in a new light. When she’s not standing behind that desk, in the faded corners of the library she’s been trying so hard to revitalize, she’s naturally striking. 

It’s been so long since they’ve had someone new, who wasn’t new to the career, new to being in a school setting. It’s refreshing and alluring and the way the librarian carries herself alone is enough to put her on Barbara’s radar… To keep tabs on her of course, to ensure that she doesn’t try to overstep, or change any other aspects of Abbott that don’t need further interference. 

As much as she loathes to admit it, Barbara wants to know more about her. What was the saying, keep your enemies closer? Perhaps they aren’t enemies, she reasons with herself, friendship from a distance certainly could be on the table. All she would have to do is make the first step, but somehow she feels herself planted in place. The first step is always the hardest. 

Simultaneously she is terrified of taking it a step too far, especially after the way they’ve ended things as of late. Cordial conversations after their story times, a palpable tension in the air. 

Besides, Barbara’s never been great at making friends (besides Melissa), especially with women her age. Of course, there were a few ladies at church, but none of them ever developed into meaningful connections. Nothing past being cordial on Sundays and the occasional bake sale fundraiser. 

Ms. Inez clears her throat, bringing her back to the present. “Don’t you have to get to your class, Mrs. Howard?” 

Realizing she’s been caught staring, Barbara does her best to laugh it off. “Yes, I suppose I do,” she shakes her head, “I’ve just been so lost in thought lately.” 

It’s not a complete lie. She’s been lost in many thoughts. About her divorce, her faith, her church, her kindergartners. And now about this new librarian who fascinates her to no end. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” the librarian smiles right back, “Corralling kindergartners doesn’t seem like an easy job, no matter how natural you make it look.”   

Barbara resents the heat that rises to her cheeks, “Oh please, too much flattery isn’t good for me this early in the morning.”

“Well then, remind me to try again this afternoon,” Ms. Inez tips her hat in Barbara’s direction as if to accentuate her point.

Barbara’s stomach flips in a way that isn’t wholly unpleasant, but she’s unable to think up a response adequate enough to hide her shock, so she watches the woman go. The nervous feeling that lingers even after Ms. Inez has turned the corner puzzles her. Is this what the kids meant by ‘butterflies’ in the stomach? She’s never fully understood that one. 

“Interesting,” Mr. Johnson speaks up and nearly causes her to trip over her own feet. The man has such skill with blending into the background, and if she wasn’t so startled now she would almost feel bad for him. 

“Honestly,” Barbara tries to control the narrative before he can. “I don’t know what to make of that woman, all of her new practices and requirements.” 

Mr. Johnson shakes his head, twirling the broom around in his hands as if to pretend he is minding his own business. “I’d say you start with an apology.” 

“An apology?”

“She came in here and did her job, and how did you repay her?” He practically scoffs, “by insulting her and trying to undermine her whole system.”

“We’ve been having shared story times,” Barbara says, feeling suddenly accused. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to sweep the events of last week under the rug," he chides her, "you know better than that.” 

Barbara does. She does know better than that.

“And while you’re at it, apologize to Janine too. It’s awful standing by, watching you two act all weird.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” That's one thing she really should do. It's about time that things go back to normal between the two of them. Her time with Janine is already so limited, she would hate to think the girl is upset with her any longer.

He waves a finger at her, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do better than that.” 

And it’s not a threat by any stretch of the imagination, but if there’s one thing Barbara has learned in all her years at Abbott, it’s that Mr. Johnson’s advice should never be ignored.

Unless the advice is conspiracy-based in which case one would be foolish to take the words to heart.

Picking battles wisely has always been a great skill of hers, anyway. But when she looks up to bid the man adieu, he is long gone.

Chapter Text

Monday morning brings about Barbara's first truly free period at Abbott in years. Sure, the children always go to gym, music, and art, but for most of her teaching career, she’s felt perpetually behind. Always lessons to plan, worksheets to grade, and fires to put out. But today there’s none of that. Her kindergartners are in gym class and for the next forty-five minutes she can sit in silence. 

After fifteen minutes she grows tired of nothingness. She’s so used to having something to occupy her time. Days like these she misses Janine, when in doubt she would always be waiting just around the corner with some bright idea, or huge problem. Either way, her absence is sorely missed, and she wishes she could tell her so. 

There must be something for her to do. 

Barbara takes a glance around the room. Desks organized. Chairs pushed in. Rug freshly vacuumed. Bathroom clean. Books in their proper place on the shelf.

The books. Barbara cringes when she realizes that her three allotted books are overdue. She knows it’s only a matter of hours before Ms. Inez realizes this and begins badgering her via technological communication or otherwise. She’s lucky the librarian doesn’t have her billing address.

A trip to the library couldn’t be too bad. There would likely be no line at the desk, she could slip in, return the books, and leave easily—using picking up her students as an excuse for a hasty exit.

Besides, the children finished their three books yesterday, already asking her for more. If things went well she could even pick out her next three, or check in on some of those she’s been waitlisted for.  

In the past, every time Barbara has stepped foot in the library, the place looked like an abandoned museum. Not one with a hauntingly historic energy, rather, a sad, dilapidated, feeling.

Barbara could count on one hand the number of times she’s seen students enjoying the space before Janine piloted this program. With no one to man the desk, no one to help the kids find books or check them out, there’s never been any reason for them to make the trip.

Usually, her own library trips would consist of her and Melissa, grabbing a large cart of books the students expressed interest in, and switching them out every other week.

But now? Stepping halfheartedly into the library—this time with the knowledge (and the shame) of knowing she shouldn’t be there, Barbara has to admit Rosalyn has breathed new life into the space. When she stops to really take in the details she hardly recognizes it as the library of old. She’s been so wrapped up in the past she’s hardly taken time to appreciate the here and now. 

Today the library is teeming with life. Students are scattered around, some sitting and reading with friends on the new couches, others eagerly scouring the meticulously organized shelves for titles that could be of interest. Over in the corner at the tables, there’s groups of them scribbling away—perhaps drawing or working on assignments.

A welcome change, Barbara decides, as much as she hates to admit when she’s wrong.

Her eyes drift over to the front desk where Ms. Inez is perched, talking to a group of second graders she recognizes as Janine’s. Glancing around the room she can’t spot Mx. Cassidy anywhere, but they must be around. 

“Aaliyah, this drawing is wonderful!” the librarian’s voice is as cheery as ever, holding up the image and inspecting it closely. “Would you like me to hang it with the rest?”

The girl nods, her smile is shy but present nonetheless.

Barbara’s eyes follow Ms. Inez across the room to a part of the library she has yet to pay any mind to. The back wall is covered in student artwork, more space dedicated to the whimsy of childhood creativity than she thought previously possible. 

When she returns from hanging the artwork, Ms. Inez continues to engage the group of students. Asking them about their favorite books and making suggestions to keep them interested.

Eventually, they disperse to begin their hunt—and a new group of second graders arrives, eager to speak with her. She takes her time checking them out, commenting on each selection. 

“Do you all have library cards yet?” The small smile teasing the corners of her lips indicates she knows the answer already. 

They look at each other, shaking their heads. 

Leah shrugs her shoulders, “We didn’t know Abbott had them.”

This seems to be just the answer she was hoping for, “We do now!” It seemingly brings her great joy to present the new cards to them, “Here, I’ll set all of you up with your very own.” 

Once the personalization is complete, she hands a card out to each of the girls, and Barbara manages to catch a glimpse at the minimalistic piece of plastic. She seems to recall after reading over Janine’s plans that library cards weren’t in the budget, so Ms. Inez must have manufactured them on her own dime. 

Looking around at all the newer resources—things she doesn’t remember spotting upon the grand opening—she must have spent a lot of her own dime in the space. 

“Now, you return the books when you’re done. And you can check out three more. Just don’t forget your library card.” 

“Can we take the books home with us?” Tanya cradles the tiny stack to her chest

“Of course!” Ms. Inez insists, “Just make sure you take good care of them.”

“We will,” Giselle says, her eyes lighting up. 

“We promise.” Leah reaffirms. 

“Of course you will, you seem like a trustworthy bunch.” she gives them each a sticker before sending them on their way, promising to return by next week for another batch of books. 

Barbara is impressed. Perhaps more than impressed. Her mind wanders back to that first day, to the librarian waxing poetic about this being her dream… she wonders how deep that dream really goes. 

“Are you here to return your books, Mrs. Howard?” Ms. Inez asks, finally laying eyes on her from the doorway. 

Barbara nods, trying to play off her interest, “I am, but I have to say, you’ve certainly given our modest little library a much needed upgrade—I’m impressed.” The compliment slips from her lips before she can help herself. 

“Hm,” she bites her lip, as if trying to hide a smile, “Like what you see?” 

“I certainly do,” Barbara swallows hard, setting her books down on the counter and trying not to look as flustered as she feels. “This place hasn’t seen this much of a crowd in nearly a decade. But that might be dating me a little.” 

“Hardly,” the librarian insists, looking up at her from under the brim of her hat, “You don’t look a day over thirty.” 

“And what did I say about flattery?” Barbara chides her gently, fighting against the lump forming in her throat. 

“I‘m not sure I recall,” Ms. Inez feigns ignorance, and Barbara feels her heart flutter a little. Embarrassing, really, how little it takes. 

“I do want to thank you for your kindness these last few weeks,” Barbara begins carefully, knowing that if she plays her cards right she can talk her way into relative peace. Maybe an extra book a week if she’s lucky. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ms. Inez flashes her a smile, one that isn’t hard to earn, but leaves her feeling accomplished nonetheless. “Encouraging the younger students to love reading is the best part of my job, and there’s no better way to do that than bringing in the teacher that they love.” 

Barbara feels her face flush, “I’m sure you’d be able to get the job done all on your own.”

“Please, I’ve never seen a group of students who love their teacher as much as your kindergartners do,” Ms. Inez says as she finishes checking the inside of the third book. “You carry quite the reputation, Mrs. Howard.” 

“Please, call me Barbara,” She insists gently. 

“Well then, you can call me Rosalyn,” She moves from around the desk, placing Barbara’s returned books on a cart with others to be re-shelved. 

This exchange of names seems to be the best indication that she‘s making progress. She almost doesn’t want to push her luck. 

“Well, Rosalyn, on the topic of my reputation, I feel as though I owe you an apology. ” 

Rosalyn raises a brow, “Go on,” even now her smile doesn’t fade. 

Barbara lets out a shaky breath, knowing what she has to do despite not wanting to. “The way I treated you during your first week here was unfair. I’ve been told in the past that I can be… resistant to change.”

“No, really?” Rosalyn laughs, leaning against the cart for support. 

“If you can believe it.” Barbara nods, the attempt at levity not throwing her. “But what you said, about not being afraid to admit when I need help. It’s stuck with me.”

The rest of her apology is stilted, she really hasn’t planned on getting this far and suddenly the words don’t come as easily as she would like them to. 

Rosalyn seems to notice this, she makes a small noise of affirmation and nods for her to continue. Understanding and empathetic, of course she would be, Barbara marvels.

“I’m sorry, for the way I conducted myself,” Barbara says finally, though it sounds cheap. “And I hope you can forgive me for my actions.” 

Rosalyn is still leaning against the cart, she hasn’t moved a muscle since the apology began and appears to be deep in thought. The silence lasts much longer than Barbara is comfortable with, and the librarian’s face is unreadable through it all.

“I think I might be able to,” she says finally, hands folded over the books.

Barbara isn’t sure if she should be merely surprised, or offended. Surely she could get a better reply than ‘might,’ after all it took to bare her soul to the woman?

“Might?”

“If you help me out around here, we might be able to call ourselves even.”

“You want me to, what, pick up library shifts?” Barbara asks incredulously. 

“If you have time to wander around snooping on library goers, you have time to help straighten shelves, hang up student drawings, sort through donation bins...” 

“I was not snooping!”

”Freely admiring, then?” 

Barbara nearly chokes at that. “Fine. Snooping.” 

Rosalyn smiles once more, “Perhaps if you spend more time here, you’ll have an even greater appreciation for the way things are done.” 

Barbara certainly can argue with that logic, this is the first free period she’s had in ages, most of her free time is spent entrenched in some other important duties around Abbott–how could she simply be expected to start doing little menial tasks around the library?

But then she takes another look at Rosalyn, a smirk set on her face as if anticipating the protests to come. And suddenly that takes all of the fight from her. She doesn’t want to strain things between them any further, and if all of this can be resolved permanently for the small cost of a few hours in the library, for… well, it couldn’t be more than a week or two, could it? Who would she be to back down? She’s practically been challenged. 

“My students have art class on Mondays and gym on Wednesdays, I can give you an hour of my time then.”

“And what about Fridays?” Rosalyn knows more than she’s been letting on. 

Barbara sighs, “Music, but I really do prefer to sit in on that one.”

“Alright,” she seems amenable to this agreement. “Mondays and Wednesdays.”

The librarian extends her hand, eyes never wavering from Barbara’s own. 

“In addition to your forgiveness, I’d like your help, in navigating all this,” Barbara gestures to the room around them, to the reference books and shelves, then down to the computer, “the google documents especially.”  

And for the first time that day, she sees Rosalyn genuinely falter. If only for a moment, anyway.

“You have a deal,” she reaches forward once more, waiting expectantly. 

Barbara takes her hand and shakes it, suddenly conscious of everything and everyone around her. They’ve hardly gained an audience, what with the seventh graders working on their research projects, but she still doesn’t like the idea of anyone finding out about this. She doesn’t play games, and this is beginning to feel an awful lot like one.

That’s when Barbara feels her phone buzz urgently in the holder across her chest. She reaches down to check it and realizes it’s her alarm, meaning her break period is over. 

“Time to go pick my students up from gym class,” she tucks her phone back into its carrying case, glad to have an actual excuse. 

“Swing by again sometime, hm?” Rosalyn proposes with a small laugh, settling back behind the desk. “Don’t be a stranger.” 

All about the jokes today, but Barbara doesn't find the predicament they’re in very funny at all. Annoyance. This is how she accounts for the heat creeping up the back of her neck, the pressure mounting in her chest. 

“Oh I’m sure I’ll find some reason.” 

Barbara heads for the gym after that, unable to suppress her nervous energy. She’s so distracted that she nearly runs straight into Melissa on the way, frazzled by their near-collision. 

“What’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Melissa carries a concerned look of her own, grabbing both her shoulders to steady her. 

“I’m perfectly fine, and yourself?” Barbara tries to ignore the concern entirely, focused on the task at hand. 

Melissa looks between her, and the direction she’s come from. There’s a question on the tip of her tongue, and judging by the look on her face Barbara can tell she’s fighting the urge to ask it.

“Nah, I’m all good,” Melissa shrugs, grabbing the glasses from the top of her head and tucking them into the front of her shirt. “Just headed to the library, you?” 

“To the gym, to pick up my students, I’m running late.”

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Melissa starts to walk away, doing one last double take, “You sure you’re good?”

“Splendid,” Barbara reassures her, but the way they part leaves her feeling slightly uneasy. 

Whatever question Melissa wanted to ask her, she’s sure she wouldn’t have the answer.