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Since I missed school and I’ve got a test coming up in environmental science, I really need to find a quiet place to study. Lake and Brogan have been arguing all evening over Lake borrowing her sweater and spilling juice on it. I’m staying out of it because it’s not my business and I have more important things to worry about. Such as this test.
After calling a place in the neighboring city to come get it, my car is currently at the body shop. I told my mom I had to have the seat replaced because it got caught on my backpack and I ripped it. Fortunately she didn’t press on the subject. It’s going to be at least two days before I can get the new seat put in, so instead of asking one of my delightful siblings if I can borrow their car, I’ve decided to walk to the public library. There’s still daylight for another hour or so and I can just call my mom for a ride when I’m done.
I know it’s probably not smart, considering someone is out to get me, but I’m not going to let this asshole scare me off. And I’m certainly not going to achieve less than one hundred percent on my test next week.
After I went up to my room earlier, Rome went back to school. At least, I’m pretty sure that's where he went. He literally pierced my heart and left. Just like he did the night he took my virginity. Just like he always does.
It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s time to move on from that chapter because I can’t keep reaching for something that isn’t there. I’ll go crazy.
Walking down our quarter-mile-long driveway with my messenger bag flung over my shoulders, I look up at the sky. Dark clouds loom, blocking any hint of sunlight. The weather has been strange today with bouts of rainstorms that come as fast as they go. Hopefully it’s over for a while and I don’t get stuck walking in a downpour.
Although, that sort of sounds nice. I love the rain and storms and rainbows after the rain. It’s proof that nature knows exactly what it’s doing.
I wish I knew what I was doing. Lately it feels like I’m running on a hamster wheel, moving but not getting anywhere.
One good thing, I’m not fearful of Rome sharing that video anymore. He makes a lot of threats, but his follow-through is lacking. I wish I felt the same about whoever left that note on my car today, along with the bloody pipe in my seat.
After Rome went back to school, I pulled out the note I found in my locker my first day at Willow Creek High and I compared the writing to see if it was the same, but the one on my car was in block letters, while the other was more of a quick scribble. There were no similarities, but I’m not ruling out that they’re the same person.
At this point, it could be anyone. Rome, Gage, Abby, Winton, or even Brady and Julia. I’ve gotten to know them well, but how well can you really know someone after a couple weeks?
Walking down the street at a leisurely pace, I look at each house, admiring their manicured lawns, expensive cars, security cameras, and gated entrances.
I wonder what their lives are like behind those walls. Do they have secrets? Are they keeping secrets? What are their jobs? What do they do for fun?
When I was little, I used to love watching people—walk, drive, run. I’d create scenarios in my head of what their lives were like and where they were going.
I wonder what the nine-year-old version of myself would guess if she saw me walking down the road right now. She’d probably think she’s got it all. A nice home, a loving family, a bright future. And maybe it’s true, but what I wouldn’t see are the endless thoughts swirling in my brain, and the trauma that put them there. We only see what people show us, after all.
Turning down the street that leads to town, I approach a row of small businesses—a cafe, an insurance company, the post office, and a bookstore.
Willow Creek really is beautiful. A picturesque town that isn’t too small, but also not too big. It’s a great place to grow up, and someday raise a family. I only hope one day I connect to this place and I’m able to call it home. Right now, it just doesn’t seem possible.
I reach the end of the street where the public library is. It’s a towering Victorian building—ornate and very old. If the walls inside that library could talk, I bet they’d have so many stories to tell.
I walk up the cement stairs to the large double doors, my fingers wrapping around the wrought iron U-shaped handle. I pull hard, the door much heavier than I imagined.
The minute I step inside, I take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of old books and paper. If I could pocket a scent forever, it would be the smell of this library.
After roaming through the maze of shelves, trailing my fingers down the spines of books, I find a quiet corner tucked behind a row of non-fiction novels. There’s a small table with two empty chairs, and I settle in, silence my phone, and begin studying.
This is the thing I am good at. Tuning out the world and putting my nose in a book. There is comfort in knowledge. Science doesn’t lie, history doesn’t change, and math shows you a million ways to get the same result.
Studying is how I breathe. Some people think it’s odd that I read over the summer. They might think it’s just to get ahead, to be a goody two-shoes or whatever, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I read and study even when I’m outside of the classroom and normal schoolwork because it keeps me grounded.
Somehow, time escapes me, and the next thing I know, I’m being interrupted by a tall lady with curly brown hair and a name tag pinned to her ivory blouse. “Excuse me, dear. The library is closing in five minutes.”
I gasp, eyes shooting out one of the windows in the distance. “I’m so sorry,” I spit out, slamming my laptop closed and stuffing it in my bag. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”
She chuckles. “It happens to the best of us.”
Once she disappears down one of the aisles, I gather up all my things and stand before pushing my chair in.
A sudden movement in the aisle beside me catches my eye. I whirl around to see where it went, my gaze landing on a faint shadow darting behind one of the shelves. My heart races as I step around the shelf, trying to catch a glimpse of who it might be, but no one is there.
I shake my head as I take a deep breath. It has to be my imagination. It’s been a long day with the note and missing school. Now being in this library that’s probably hundreds of years old and casting shadows all around with the odd lighting. My thoughts are getting the best of me.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I head down the row toward the exit. Just as I round the corner, I see the shadowy figure again. Only, it’s more than a shadow. It’s someone wearing a black hoodie that’s flipped up, and a pair of black denim jeans. They move quickly, as if they’re playing a game of hide-and-seek.
