The Reader

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By Angie Bromeland

Mason quietly walked down the hallway. It was an understandable and appropriate thing to do, given that Mason’s literacy tutor lived two doors down. He hadn’t exactly been enjoying their studies lately. But sure enough, Miss Violet’s door opened just as Mason got to it. She just happened to be leaving for her meeting with the apartment association. What luck.
“Why, Mason! How nice to see you,” she said with a smile.
Mason smiled back nervously. “Hi Miss Violet, ma’am,” he said. He really hope he wouldn’t be snagged into an extra lesson.
“You can walk with me to my meeting,” Miss Violet said. “Tell me. How many pages have you read this week?”
Mason sighed. “I’m not exactly sure, ma’am,” he said. It wasn’t inaccurate. He hadn’t been recording the number of pages he’d read. But he also knew there weren’t many pages to record.
“Well I certainly hope the number of pages you’ve read is greater than the number of minutes you’ve wasted on media,” she nagged.
Mason hated that—calling video games and messaging apps and music and YouTube shows “media.”
“Of course not, ma’am,” he said obstinately.  
Miss Violet stopped before the elevator and sighed. She looked right at Mason. He had nowhere to hide. Suddenly, Miss Violet smiled. “Mason—I think I have just the thing to make you love reading.” She shuffled through her large tote bag and came up with a book titled, The Hobbit. “You just need to get lost in a story.”
That’s when the elevator doors opened and Miss Violet stepped in. Mason opened the book to the first page and began to read as he walked to his apartment. He didn’t put it down for a week. That was the day Mason became a real reader.

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