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Slipping off my remaining shoe, I happily start skipping across the floor to head down into the basement to pack my bags, but then I come to a dead stop in the doorway.

Oh, shit. I’m finally free and getting out of my father’s house.

Where in the hell am I going to live?!

Chapter 2: YOLO

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I pause from opening up the box of books that were delivered to the library, a wash of embarrassment rushing through me, wondering if Mrs. Potter is talking about me. When I see her staring down at the small box of five measly books with a sad look on her face, I realize she’s not referring to the dark circles under my eyes or my wrinkled clothes.

I ran out of the only home I’ve ever known last night with one small duffle bag packed with as many things as I could quickly grab, which wasn’t much. Hence the wrinkled clothes. Since it was the middle of the night when I left, I didn’t want to make Ariel come back and get me when she was probably still a little annoyed about the black eye and broken nail. I knew Cindy was busy with PJ and didn’t want to interrupt. I don’t have a car, so I went to the only place I could think of that was within walking distance—my library. My home away from home, which has now become my actual home. I’ve been too chicken and embarrassed about what happened with my dad to call either of my friends today and ask if I can stay with them for the time being. I hate imposing on them, but that’s what friends are for, right? They’re supposed to be there for you in your time of need. I just need to gather up the courage to ask them and stop being so worried about putting them out.

“I remember the days when we needed ten people to open up the book deliveries, catalogue them in the system, and put them on the shelves,” Mrs. Potter muses as she rests her elbows on the counter of the reference desk.

I try to share her smile as she reminisces about happier times here at the library, but it’s impossible. The first Saturday of every month used to be my favorite day here. The day when all of the books we’d spent hours and hours researching and ordering over the last month showed up. The day when it was all hands on deck and employees knew not to even ask for the evening off because after closing time, we’d have hundreds of new books to go through and put on the shelves. And no one even cared about working on a Saturday night once a month because we always made it fun. Everyone would bring in food to share, and everyone would be giddy with excitement and the smell of new books. Even before I was put in charge here, it was always my favorite day to work.

There’s no giddiness today as I pull out the five new books I was just barely able to afford. There’s just a deep sadness that has taken over my heart because I couldn’t even order more than one copy of each of those books, and my throat grows tight with the need to cry when I think about the hundreds of other books I wanted so badly to order, but couldn’t. There’s not a group of employees standing around, oohing and aahing with each box I open. There’s just me and Mrs. Potter, and one lonely box of five books.

Reaching into the box, I pull out the new true-crime thriller that took me three weeks of saving every penny Cindy gave me to buy. I bring it up to my nose, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. When the smell does nothing to brighten my mood, I quickly set it down on the counter next to the others and give Mrs. Potter a big smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes and feels completely fake.

“Things around here are going to get better very soon, I promise,” I say. “I have a plan; it’s just taking a little bit longer than I expected. But don’t worry, Mrs. Potter. In no time at all, things will be like they used to be.” I reach across the counter to rest my hand on top of hers and give it a squeeze.

“Unless you plan on doing a little prostitution on the side, I think it’s time we both realize this library might be a lost cause, sweetheart.”

Mrs. Potter laughs at her own joke while my eyes widen in shock, her words reminding me of the things my dad said to me last night. Her laughter comes to an abrupt end when she sees the look on my face.

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