Sometimes you get an idea...

... and you just have to write it and see where it takes you.  Personally I don't know where this idea is going to take me.  I'm kind of curious to know what you think, though.  What does this story opening say to you? (and the boy's name is Norman, just fyi.)

~~~

Libby saw the boy through a little gap in the bookshelves and something about his face snatched at her interest right from the start.  It wasn’t his neat brimmed cap pulled low --not too low-- over his eyes, nor was it his straw-like hair that stuck out in rather unruly bits around his eyes and forehead.  No, it was definitely his face, and though there was nothing particularly striking about this face-- it was not handsome, nor ugly, nor sporting any kind of fascinating wart-- it was a nice sort of face.  An open, honest, curious face, and it was the face that made Libby do something very brave.

She came out from behind the stacks, rounded the corner of the bookshelf and sat herself down at the boy’s table, across from him.

“Hello,” she said.

The boy did not seem in the least surprised that a skinny tall girl with bitten-off dark hair should so unceremoniously plunk herself down in front of him and say hello.  In fact, he said hello back.  And smiled, to boot.

“Who are you?” asked Libby, without further preliminaries.

“I’m a writer,” said the boy, and as he said it Libby saw that the book he held was not a storybook at all, but a notebook, and inside it (from what she could see) were a great many scribbled words.

“Well, I’m a reader,” said Libby, and folded her hands on the tabletop.

The boy smiled again.  “Then,” he said, “we ought to get on very nicely.”