The Library Stairs, Chapter Four

Before Joe's eyes, vibrant primaries were supplanting the monochrome which was no longer content to stay within its picture-frame. Nor did it remain motionless, even as embellishments of tangerine and neon pink and the lush green of one scaly skin blossomed lavishly amid the riotous palette. Instead of a flight of stairs was now an open-air stage with several tiers, about which the various band-members were stationed in all their outlandish seeming. Three backing-vocalists from outer space struck up the refrain, and so jaunty and catchy was it that you expected the red and blue planets behind to start bopping along as they span.

Boom-boom, sha-la, sha-la, sha;

Boom-boom-boom, sha-la, sha-la, sha…

Joe didn’t know which of the seven figures was the Headmistress in her younger days, but he ruled out the robot drummer, and the gigantic alien beetle who was laying down the bass.

Then, as of the very first line, he knew it wasn’t the lead singer either.

I’m…just a little girl…

There were glittering constellations in her hair, and she was not of this Earth. To Joe however her beauty was as nothing before her voice.

So in love with you…

Crushroom had left him only questions, but the answer to every one was there.

That every time

That you say

That you love me too…

It wasn’t even the lyrics. Although, as it happened, a little girl who’d been in love with Joe did come into it.

Don’t know what to do

I just sparkle and shine;

And the saucy vocalists echoed knowingly:

(Just sparkle and shine!)

Joe’s head was spinning like the worlds which dotted that galactic backdrop. Sparkle and shine was right. He knew someone who’d done so since the moment he saw her. On that day she had indeed still been a little girl, and so too in the recent dream which now rushed back upon him for the second time these last twenty-four hours. That purest and finest of bright yellow light was her constant.

It had remained, while gradually she grew.

Then, one late afternoon when the sun was going down, she’d been all grown.

With me…walking hand in hand…

In this wonderland…

And that singer's voice had been part of it. Don’t try to tell Joe it was just a similar cadence.

And your hand is in mine;

Just don’t know

How to let my love show…

Joe could relate. These feelings were euphoric, breathtaking, revelatory. Yet they might also have been better recalled on his own, rather than in front of quite so many girls.

I just sorta glow

Just sparkle and shine;

(Just sparkle and shine!)

Speaking of girls, though. And Joe was back again. He could see a pair of grubby cheerleader sneakers tucked underneath the bed.

Find her. She was the key.

To everything.

You said when you see the stars in my eyes,

All you can do is stare;

You wanna know where I got the stars in my eyes?

You oughtta know, ’cause you put them there!

The six pupils in their silver and navy were dancing. It could not be called excessive or raunchy, but it was done with giggles and grins of fond familiarity. Joe saw already that this Headmistress of theirs was no fool. The photo was a way of not merely inscribing the distance between her generation and that of the girls, but also of reminding them what they all shared. Ultimately, it served to bring their school community closer.

So I’m…gonna sparkle and shine…

Just as long as you’re mine…

’Til the end of time…

So which one was she? Somehow Joe didn’t feel the brassy and fun extraterrestrial trio, with their flippy ponytails and shimmery hips, boasted among their number a potential Headmistress.

Gonna sparkle and shine;

(Gonna sparkle and shine!)

These proceeded to bring the song home with a bouncy reprise of their ongoing rhythm, supplemented by the beetle bassist who warbled with them in a high sweet register. The multi-planed platform and its occupants were becoming a photograph again, and jangling pop receding unto the customary calm of a well-behaved school. Joe’s attention however was drawn to the last by the band’s seventh member, a tiny and slight twilight-hued female hiding behind her mane of dusky hair, who throughout the performance had held stock-still but for the expert fingers which plucked and strummed her lyre.

Joe was just about willing to wager he was looking at the great lady.

If only because she was so hard to see.

END OF CHAPTER FOUR