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Especially after the text I just got.
My phone chimed with a message from Zac just as I was walking out of sixth period.
Zac: Page 31.
At first, I was confused.
Then I remembered the conversation we had on Saturday. He’s telling me where to find his first confession.
That has to be it.
“You should’ve seen the bums in here earlier. Bunch of troublemakers.” Lucille tsks under her breath. “They shouldn’t even be allowed in the library, if you ask me. It’s not like any of them has ever voluntarily read a book in their life. They should just stick to that stupid game of theirs.”
I nod along to her story, grabbing a random book from the return pile to check our alphabetical system and put it back where it belongs.
Aisle six, the screen reads.
Got to love the coincidence.
This is perfect. I’ll just put this novel back and sneak a peek at the poetry book when she’s not looking. Confident with my plan, I make my way to aisle six and squeeze the book on the right shelf while Lucille continues her yapping.
“But that’s not even the half of it.” Lucille laughs bitterly, her pinched eyebrows adding wrinkles to her crowded forehead. “That Emery kid keeps coming for Emily Dickinson’s poetry book at lunch. A poetry book! Can you believe this? Bet he thinks he’s hilarious. A disgrace, these kids, I tell you.”
Every hair on my body stands on end.
I replay Lucille’s words in my head, the realization of what she just said sinking into me like a thirty-thousand-pound anchor.
Did she just…
No.
I was right?
Think about it, Vee. Zac texted me how much he hated Theo’s party, while Xavier was hiding in his truck, also hating the party. Holy shit, he was also in detention for two weeks, which would explain how he answered me.
Then there’s his middle name. And all the things he said about his best friend fucking his ex… Just when Dia found out about Finn cheating. Wait, Finn fucked Brie? No, it wasn’t Brie. Dia said it was some random girl. Back to the point, Vee.
“R-Really?” I can’t seem to conceal the tremor in my voice.
“Positive. I should go through the book just in case he stashed some drugs in it or whatever it is punks like him do.” Lucille rounds the counter, her intentions as clear as they are terrifying. She thinks he used the book for some sort of drug deal.
She can’t open that book.
“I got it.” I hold my hand up like it’s a stop sign.
“Are you sure?” She slows down.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m already here, I’ll do it.”
“All right, then.” Lucille nods, unsuspecting, but doesn’t retreat to the front desk. I tread down the aisle, pull the poetry book from the lower shelf, and skip straight to page thirty-one.
The confession is exactly where he said it would be.
Written on a sticky-note.
I secretly think my ex-girlfriend has the conversational skills of wallpa
per.
