"Shouldn't You Be in School?" (All the Wrong Questions, #3)

by Lemony Snicket

Spending time in his library was like seeing a rare and strange beast that I might not ever see again, and sure enough, in a few short days this library, the only one in Stain’d-by-the-Sea, would be gone forever.

I’d heard every word the woman had said, but I didn’t mistake it for something that made sense.

In our line of work we’ve learned to trust, honor, and flatter librarians.

“Two birds with one stone,” Ellington repeated, over the tinkly music. “My father always hated that expression. He said nobody should be throwing any stones at any birds.”

Everyone tells you it’s all right to cry, but not enough people say it’s all right if you don’t want people to know.

You cannot wait for an untroubled world to have an untroubled moment. The terrible phone call, the rainstorm, the sinister knock on the door—they will all come. Soon enough arrive the treacherous villain and the unfair trial and the smoke and the flames of the suspicious fires to burn everything away. In the meantime, it is best to grab what wonderful moments you find lying around.

It’s very simple, I thought. But the trouble is, it’s not easy.

It’s like the difference between what happens in a book and what happens in the world. The world is swirling with so many mysteries and secrets that nobody will ever track down all of them. But with a book you can stay up very late, reading and rereading until all the secrets are clear to you. The questions of the world are hidden forever, but the answers in a book are hiding in plain sight.

My life felt heavy that night, with each year of my life like a weighty crate, so I had almost thirteen crates to carry around inside me, with each crate full of notebooks and each notebook full of secrets. It is hard to lug such a heavy load around with me and to keep everyone from seeing it. But some secrets are so strange and so dangerous that showing them to people makes the strangeness and the danger pour into their lives like dark, dark ink.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said, a phrase which here means “No.”

Porcini mushrooms are rich and smooth and whispered to my body that maybe things weren’t so bad. The ice was lumpy against my side and said that maybe things were bad but they would get better.

Josephine caught my eye and gave me a signal we’d used for years to indicate that one of us had to leave. The signal was mouthing the words “I have to leave” and pointing to the door.