I used to go to the library regularly in fourth and fifth grade, mostly to browse the science fiction section. The library was a tiny, one-room building crammed with books. The head librarian, the only person there most of the time, was a very old, wrinkled, hunched-over lady who moved and spoke slowly.
One day, while I was perusing the scifi shelf, a girl who was roughly my age came in with her mom. Clearly unfamiliar with both card catalogs and the "alphabetical by author" system of shelving fiction, she immediately went to the librarian and asked if the library had a copy of Forever.
"Well, I know we have Blubber," she said, shuffling over to the young adult section, "but I don't know if we have Flubber."
"Forever," the girl said, following the librarian.
"Yes, yes, I know we have Blubber, but I don't know about Flubber," she replied, leaning close to the shelf and eyeballing books.
"Forever," the girl said again, "not Flubber."
"I don't know if we have that. I know we definitely have Blubber, though. Do you know who it's by?"
"Forever," she said again, clearly frustrated by this point, "by Judy Blume."
"Ah, yes," the librarian said, pulling down a copy of Blubber, also by Judy Blume, off of the shelf for the girl. "We have this one, Blubber, I don't see Flubber here, though."
"I'm not looking for Blubber or Flubber," the girl told the librarian. "I'm looking for Forever."
The librarian finally understood what she was saying. "Oh," she said, suddenly much less enthusiastic. "We got rid of that because it had some overnight stuff," she said in what sounded like a disgusted tone as she shelved the book. The girl stormed out without saying another word, and her mom thanked the librarian for her help before following.
I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find out that the book is still unavailable in that backwards little town.