Chapter Text
Berdly browses the library archives during his volunteer hours, not for the purpose of peeping at his classmates’ book history (which is exactly what he’s doing), but for scavenging. He is gathering information about his surroundings so he can look for patterns, in classic bird fashion.
The front desk is where Berdly makes his territory. It’s a small island separated from the rest of the library’s simple interior: two rows of shelves fill the back half of the building, leading into the children’s room, which is full of beanbags. Upstairs is the adult's section of the library, which not even Berdly is allowed to enter, unless he is re-shelving.
His first day at the library was a busy one. People often underestimate how much work goes into keeping a library in working order. It’s been an entire day, not including training, and he still hasn't gotten a good grip on which tasks should precede others in order to get everything done in a timely fashion. Now, hours after closing, the library has cleared out. Berdly is alone and he finally has time to explore the building. The prospects of getting to discover what’s up in the adult's section of the library excites him; the promise of forbidden knowledge is too alluring to go unaddressed. Yet… there’s a strange, profound feeling that one gets when they are in an empty room by themselves.
Have you ever stayed too long at the school after everyone has left? A solemn chill fills the air when it happens. Ennui, as Berdly would call it since he’s got the vocabulary to show for it. He’d read it in a book somewhere.
Berdly begins making his way to the backroom – the Children’s Room. Something about it is incredibly nostalgic, to the point of disorienting him if he dwells on it for too long. Though it's not one of the 'forbidden' rooms, Berdly very much treats it like one after the events of today. As a child, he used to sit there with his friends but now, they've got the reading station up front next to the help desk, where Berdly spends most of his waking hours. Streamers hang limp from the doorframe leading into the Children's Room. He honestly isn’t sure why it bothers him so much that the others were here today for Jockington’s birthday. Jockington was not a particularly interesting person, nor was Berdly even excited at the idea of spending the entire rest of the day after school hanging out with him and that party of goons.
He also isn’t sure what mythical design draws him to that particular room tonight, either. As far as his memory tells him, he’s never been much of a cake person, nor would that change merely because there is one final slice waiting for him in that room. He doesn't go in because put bluntly, this was a birthday party, and he wasn’t invited. In more ways than one, the Children’s Room, much like the Adult's Room immediately upstairs, feels off-limits for Berdly whose spirit sits at the help desk, idle and overseeing them both.
He is the library’s birdwatcher, not the bird; he comes to see everyone else, not the other way around.
The last of the partygoers have left, not too long ago.
“I’ll clean up the mess” Berdly remembers saying.
“Thanks.”
With that lukewarm farewell, the librarian was the final one to leave. The sweet smell of pastries fills the air with something, like ennui. His struggle to find the right word for it is only exacerbated by the fact that even though Berdly's seen the word ennui used in sentences, he's never actually searched up what it means.
“Berdly?”
His feathers whip backwards.
“Oh, Noelle!” He exclaims. “Need me to walk you home? I know the area quite well. You see, I’ve been studying the typography of the library and surrounding lands all day!" He drags out the word typography to flaunt the latest member of his extensive vocabulary. I’m sure you would’ve loved it but alas, poor Jockington needs his comfort group every now and then to reassure himself that he is still socially relevant in this ever-changing, geopolitical – “
“Erm, Berdly. Isn't 'typography' for um, words and stuff?”
“Ahh... well in that case, I said topography, obviously.”
“Oh course, right...”
“Noelle... tsk - do you really think I could make such a classic blunder like that? Colour me offended! I'm not as dimwitted as that! Regardless... if I recall correctly...” Berdly says as he begins to circle around Noelle, like a little primary-coloured vulture. “It was one of last year’s words in the ‘bee.”
His feathers shake a little near the end for audible emphasis, like soft-padded tambourines. It is exceeding childish but simultaneously, it is such a Berdly thing to do. His hands wave with a flair that only cheap decorations at the hardware store can match. Noelle feels a laugh rise up in her throat, seeing Berdly puffs his feathers out like some kind of peacock from the back. His tiny frame only dramatizes the movements further.
Her smile has finally extended all the way across her face. “I remember that!" She beams. Last year's spelling bee was quite fun, even if Noelle had come second. "You… you really are getting good at those.”
And she means it, she really does. However, ever since that first spelling bee, he’s been preparing for them religiously to the point where it’s become part of his brand, and nothing else. Albeit reluctantly, Noelle has been letting Berdly win ever since that first competition, out of fear for the crowd watching below, but since then, he has genuinely become a spelling fanatic, much to Noelle's astonishment. Spelling Bees were exclusively Berdly moments now, with everyone debating whether this would finally be the year that "blue kid" would break his streak, even though it never happens. Noelle has been on that stage several times - for plays, for Spelling Bees, for small cross country award ceremonies - but she could never get behind how Berdly could stand so tall in front of an audience so large.
If you saw Berdly, you wouldn't expect such a small person to have such a large personality. The blue feathers of his wings are soft like a child’s eyelashes, warm as fleece, and young as morning. He’s no falcon, no eagle, nor vulture – Noelle knows. But sometimes, by the way he talks, you would be made to believe that he has the talons of a predator, and wings like iron blades. His snivelly tone and his crude remarks cake his feathers like mud, hardening them into sharp but fragile flakes.
“And you’ll never believe it but guess what, Noelle?”
“I’m listening – “
“I finally unlocked access... get this... to ALL the books now. Come see!”
Berdly zooms back around Noelle and spreads a wing across her shoulder, lightly brushing her towards the second-floor staircase, away from the children’s room. His small stature combined with the aerodynamics of his body are jarring for people at first, when they realize just how quickly Berdly can maneuver around, fast as lightning. After years of being subject to Berdly's bird-antics, Noelle’s instincts have been sharpened into a match worthy of the bird. She steps out of the way long before Berdly lands the first tap of her shoulder.
"I have to go..."
“Shh, no one will see us, it’s literally empty now,” Berdly beckons. “And – “
“Berdly, no. I promised my parents I would be back as soon as it starts to get dark.”
He stops. His head turns to face the window and realizes with a sinking feeling that she is right. It only takes a few seconds for him to internalize the fact that school finished nearly six hours ago, and he’d been volunteering here for – no, he’d been watching here, from his little island desk for nearly six hours as well.
“I… I am just here to tell you that, well… since you tried to join us a few times...”
“Tsk, I was not.”
“Berdly… you could have joined us if you wanted. I mean, Jockington didn’t – erm, that’s besides the point! You were here already so I’m sure – “
“Save your breath, Noelle. I am on the job. I don’t have time for little silly festivities. Besides, consider it this way: my birthday present has already been delivered!”
“Oh, you ordered him something?”
“Oh, quite the contrary! My gift for him is that I will simply elect NOT to fine him for eating in the library and being so loud today, among other transgressions. Oh, I’m sure you know, right Noelle? You were a third party to it all.”
“Erm – “
“But we’re cool, Noelle! You're my second-in-command, my doe-eyed pal of sorts. You have my friend discount! No need to say thanks! We can just have fun while I’m here, it's no fuss for me, it really isn't! Don't you want to see the catalogues upstairs? I – "
“I’m sorry, we were getting kind of loud.”
“Hmpf. Alright then, apology accepted. But like I was saying -"
“We were only loud because the librarian herself said that we could stay."
“…”
“…”
“Ahh… yeah, she did, didn’t she...”
“Berdly… I really have to go. I just uh – wanted to let you know that there’s one last slice of cake for you, to take home or something.”
“Right.”
Berdly thinks about the situation critically. The thought of eating someone's pity cake disgusts him, especially a cake tailored to the unsophisticated tastes of that party. However, the issue with Noelle being the one to offer it to him is that clearly, smart kids were invited to the party too. It’s not a dumb jock hanging out with a bunch of similarly simple-minded goons. Berdly’s seen the borrowing histories of everyone at the party today and a lot of them read the same types of books as Berdly likes, so it’s clearly not a matter of clashing preferences.
Jockington invited everyone in the class to his birthday. If Berdly hadn’t been working here today he wouldn’t have…
No, Jockington knew I'd be here. I'm always here, and thus he invited me by proxy. But it’s also my first day... he couldn't have anticipated that. And yet...
“I’m leaving.” Noelle says, interrupting Berdly’s train of thought. “See you tomorrow, Berdly.” Noelle’s hair rustles a bit as she leaves the library, the warm scent of cinnamon and other notes of her shampoo fills the air trailing in her wake.
“Hey, Noelle! How about tomorrow then? We can go study on the second floor now, after hours! I’ve got the key!”
She sighs. “Berdly, don't you think the adult books will be too difficult to read?”
“Haha, not for you, my dear Noelle! And I’ll even help you read it.”
She snorts. Berdly’s reading voice is amusing – that part she is willing to acknowledge. She remembers the way he used to read, before the librarian got fed up one day and told him to use his indoor voice or he'd be banned from the building altogether. Each time, he would start the session, prefacing with all the author’s notes and a short spiel about how little the editors contribute to the interpretation of the work in some cases, making it disingenuous to include their introduction as part of the novel’s opening statements. She’d listen and look at the pictures of the authors, some women, some men, but always much older.
Berdly would write his own little fictions sometimes and submit them to the town's newspaper under a different pseudonym each time. It’s a secret he's only told Noelle, who reads them privately every now and then, and is left wondering why Berdly never wants to attach his name to the silly stories he makes, given how much he likes to boast. In all honesty, Noelle doesn’t find Berdly all that irritating. A bit of time with Berdly says volumes about what he actually likes, by virtue of all the things he thinks deserve to be hidden. Noelle studies and Berdly reads by her side every day, where he keeps the seat perpetually dust-free by his tail feathers. And the next day, Berdly is back, his books saving Noelle’s place beside him. It was a nice surprise to see him making home at the help desk all of a sudden. The library is essentially his second home, as far as Noelle knows.
“Berdly… you’re always trying to race ahead.” She thinks about the aging men and women on the back of the books that Berdly loves to read, and the spark in his eyes when he picks up a new work by a recognizable name. “Why not enjoy the first floor for just a while longer? We all turn eighteen next year, so why the rush?”
What Berdly doesn’t say, often winds up saying more about him than what he does speak about. She knows that despite Berdly’s apparent hatred for author and editor introductions at the beginning of novels, he makes sure to read them every time – it’s why he has so much to say about them in the first place.
“The children’s room, it’s just… so stupid.” Berdly says crossly. “It’s where Jockington goes to fetch his little comic books. Don’t you just find it so silly how people are trying to popularize them as legitimate forms of literature? I just can’t – “
But Noelle leaves almost as abruptly as she came, giving him no time to finally show Noelle the forbidden section of the library. However, Berdly knows that a piece of cake is waiting for him back in the children’s room, which Berdly has been eyeing like prey for the past six hours.
It’s in the backroom… if only he has the willpower to go get it.
The night is aging. Berdly hasn’t moved from the front of the backroom door.
The streamers are still stuck to the walls, evident by the paper floating down the door frame.
Berdly contemplates the decision for a moment, and ultimately heads in, with the events from his day still fresh in his mind.
The first thing Berdly does on the “job” is fill out some return forms on some books.
Alphys has recently taken out a human book named Nightwood, recently – a lesbian fiction. Berdly isn’t sure if this really says anything about her, but the rest of her log does suggest an obsession with humans. Thus, with this crucial piece of information, Berdly knows to make his next school project one that is about humans. Using cheats is part of the strategy – that’s Berdly’s philosophy. He’ll make sure to drop a subtle hint to Noelle the next time they meet. She looks out for him, so he’ll look out for her too.
He deals with a ‘customer’ in the meantime.
“Kris… HmmmMM, can you explain this entry for me?” Berdly mocks.
He leans over the library help desk with the straightening of his collar. This outfit was chosen specifically for the occasion: a nice barf-green sweater vest to match the weird carpet floors. His white shirt symbolizes the pages of a book, and the rest of his outfit just consists of whatever he was wearing yesterday since it’s not like anybody can see the bottom half of his body while he’s at the help desk. It’s as close to a uniform as he can get. Berdly puffs out his chest, so that his paper nametag taped in scotch is visible for all to see.
Kris waits with a stoic expression on their face.
“Well, have you ever heard of a book called How toooooo…” Berdly trails off, waiting for an answer. He swirls his feathertips with his hand, which is generating just enough wind to catch the end of Kris' front bangs, poking into their eye. Kris stands firmly at the front of the desk, staring Berdly down as he sits in an office chair so ancient, it's permanently stuck to its lowest elevation setting.
“– Train your Dragon?”
Berdly snickers. “Perhaps ~ DRAW ~ Dragons is the correct terminology here!” His exaggerated emphasis on his words draws out with a nasally tune.
He really is one of those kinds of kids, Kris thinks. God, what a piece of work.
“I’m sure you know what I’m talking about right?”
“Where is the party?”
The blunt delivery of the question honestly catches Berdly by surprise. Were they really planning a surprise party for Berdly’s first day at the library? His eyes lower down to Kris’s hands where a wrapped box is clutched.
“I’m just here to drop it off,” Kris says coolly. “Mom’s orders. And then I’m out of here.”
“Well…” Berdly says slyly. “No need to be shy, you can just drop it here.”
“And you’ll hand it to Jockington?”
Berdly’s heart misses a beat. He thinks about his next words carefully.
“It’s for – erm, what occasion exactly?”
Berdly walks over to the birthday cake.
He knocks over every beanbag in his way, “smashing every vase in the area for Easter eggs”, as he would describe it. The rest of his feelings however, are distinctly indescribable. This is what the class had been doing that day. No wonder they were so excited to come to the library. Berdly thought he’d surprise everyone with his new job.
It’s a volunteer position, Berdly reminds himself. You don’t get paid.
Well, the red bird who metaphorically sits on his shoulder would say. It’s more than what Jockington’s got going for him.
The diametrically un-opposed bird who sits on Berdly’s other shoulder pitches in: what’s so good about him anyway?
* That’s right. Inside all of us are two birds. One is judgmental and extremely pretentious. The other is judgmental and extremely pretentious. You are judgmental and extremely pretentious.
* The cake is in lousy condition. Maybe it’s got a nice personality or something.
The frosting has bits of batter on it from all the times people have attempted to cut around it, and its toppled over on its side from the lack of a decent infrastructure. It’s Berdly’s piece – that’s what it is. It’s even a little blue, which Berdly hopes is an indication that it’s a blue raspberry flavoured forest cake, and not something else. The sour taste hits him.
God, I hate cheesecake.
He really didn’t miss out on much. Berdly feels the tightening of his stomach, as consequence for a dinner not eaten. He grabs another bite, hungrily, letting the frosting stick to his feathers as he scoops the sweet treat into his beak. It's a little treat for a hard day’s work. He almost regrets going over around five o’clock, to tell them to quiet down – telling them harshly that this was a library. He actually regrets the second and third and fourth time he goes over there to stick post-it-note reminders of all the broken library rules, with complementary forms for the incurring fines. He has no idea why the thought of a birthday party happening right in front of him for almost six hours makes him this frustrated. Yet, it does.
Berdly is by himself in a library, and he is allowed to be honest – nobody is watching.
His beak crunches down on something plastic. Pulling it out, he sees that it’s one of those little toy capsules. With slight difficulty – of course, Berdly is quite dextrous for a bird, so he doesn’t struggle as much as the word difficulty would imply – he cracks it open. A little paper strip is rolled up inside. With sticky, frosted fingers, Berdly opens it and unfurrows the yellow tissue paper until he’s got a paper crown in his hand – it’s one of those cakes with a prize inside one of the slices. How lucky is he!
There’s a familiar cheer. The crowds, they are calling to him.
He’s won the Spelling Bee.
Berdly goes over to the window at the front of the library, leaving the mess behind for later. In the reflection of the mirror, he puts the crown on his head as observes the bird that stares him back from the clouded surface. The cheap paper shines with a soft golden glow, like some kind of counterfeit halo on top of his head.
You’re the smart kid, not the party kid. But, Noelle is smart too, and she was there… How else would you have known about the birthday? There’s no denying that you weren’t invited.
In a way, Berdly does spend six hours at the library for Jockington’s seventeenth birthday. He spends the rest of the evening cleaning and in doing so, his first ever day at the library becomes an overnight shift. There’s also no denying that as much as this library position is Berdly’s contribution to the community, it serves as his ticket in.
“Yes, Mrs. Paddy, I’ll be in tomorrow as well.”
“Great, and I just need your name.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Well kid, I can’t possibly remember everything.”
Berdly licks the icing sugar off his feathertips in silence.
The revelation chills him.