He was back on the library floor. The lights were humming steadily. The Handbook lay open in his lap, perfectly still. He looked at the page he had been reading.
Leo looked at the chaos. He thought about the hours he'd spent reading about "The Interconnectivity of Genre." He realized the dragon wasn't attacking; it was searching. The knights weren't fighting; they were scared. Both groups were just looking for a way home. Handbook of Research on Children's and Young Ad...
He looked down. The text on the page was moving. The academic jargon about "narrative agency" and "semiotic structures" was rearranging itself into a swirling whirlpool. With a sudden, violent tug, the book acted like a vacuum. Leo didn't even have time to yell before he was stretched thin as a bookmark and pulled into the white abyss of the page. He was back on the library floor
Leo looked at the crossroads. In the distance, he could see a dragon made of binary code breathing fire onto a group of knights who were trying to fight back with laser pistols. He looked at the page he had been reading
Leo spun around. Sitting on a giant, oversized alphabet block was a girl no older than twelve, wearing a heavy crown of mismatched keys and a tattered denim jacket. She was holding a clipboard. "I'm... I'm looking for a citation?" Leo stammered.
Leo closed the book gently. He didn't need the citation anymore. He had the story. Should Leo from the book world?
As he spoke the words, the ground beneath him vibrated. The golden glow returned, blindingly bright. The binary dragon and the chrome city began to dissolve into elegant, printed sentences. Leo felt that familiar, sickening tug. Thump.
