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Or gross.
He was a fighter.
Here to remind us that it’s okay to struggle and fall.
Because if you didn’t… then how would you ever fly?
“So, tell me, Love,” Dad asked as I stared at my new friend with beady eyes. “What kind of person do you want to be in life? A butterfly?” He paused. “Or a caterpillar?”
N O W
Three things I’ve learned in my two years of employment at Easton High: One: if you’re a librarian, people will automatically assume you’re a book nerd. There’s nothing you can do about it. In their eyes, you breathe, live, and eat books.
Two:the job doesn’t require nearly as much “shushing” as society thinks it does. And three: when your grumpy sixty-year-old coworker looks like someone took a dump in her coffee, you’re in for a long night.
I knew Lucille was in a bad mood from the moment I stepped foot inside the library twenty minutes ago. She has those crazy eyes. The one she makes when someone pissed her off.
My money is on the jocks.
Nothing gets good old Luce riled up like the “punks” of Easton. I’m not sure what they did to deserve such wrath, but I do know every time she encounters one of them, I turn into her emotionalpunching bag for the rest of the week.
Usually, I can take it, but I’m not in the mood to listen to her “kids these days” monologue right now.
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.
