I started feeling a bit more comfortable but it was still uncomfortably warm. If Farah came in I didn’t want to be sweating. I took the bottom of my T-shirt in my fingers and gave it a waft to get some air to my armpits. Such a relief. I kept my earbuds in so hopefully nobody would come and speak to me.

I scanned the shelves nearest to me. K to O. A sign above said “Fiction”. I craned my neck. Was that it? Fiction, Non-Fiction and Children’s? No crime section, no biographies and, most importantly, no romance? I could have asked the librarian, only I couldn’t. Not without going all radish-like and triggering Olympic-level sweating. I guessed the romance novels were mixed in. That changed my cleverly thought through plan a bit. Although looking around the library, the distinct lack of anybody else my age was also an issue.

It was weird being back here. Apart from the overenthusiastic heater there was something nice about it. I know nice is a rubbish word – my English teacher tells me that all the time. But that’s how it felt. Nice. It was familiar even though I’d not been inside for years. The smell of books lingered in the air. I’d forgotten that. As a kid I used to breathe it in. The library had been somewhere really special and I guess it still was – it was me who’d changed.

I got that prickly feeling that someone was watching me. I instinctively turned my head and one of the ladies at the table was scrutinising me. She had wild grey hair and a colourful swirly top. We eyeballed each other and the introvert trapped inside me screamed. I looked away. My neck started to feel warm again and I gave my T-shirt another waft. I guess I looked a bit suspicious. I’m more conscious than most that people get twitchy around teenage boys. They think we’re all either on drugs or about to nick stuff. I glanced behind me. There was a book with a pink swirly spine. That was probably romance. I pulled it out and had a look. I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella. Yep, that looked like the sort of thing my mum would have read. I read the blurb on the back cover.

I glanced up. The woman at the table was still staring at me but now looked intrigued. That wasn’t good. I looked down at the book. Studying a romance book made me look suspicious. I swallowed hard, twisted around and returned the book carefully to the shelf. When I turned back someone was leaning over me.

‘Can I help you?’ asked the librarian. Crap!

I was no longer invisible and I didn’t like it. ‘Err, err. Umm.’ Usually I could form words. The woman was waiting, her eyebrows slowly rising in question. Pull yourself together, Tom.