By Your Side(3)

“No.”

I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his shoulder. “Please. Her parents will be there, and I’ve done it before.”

“The whole weekend seems a bit long for you.”

I gave him a smile while putting on my best pleading face. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I won’t go out at all next weekend. I’ll stay in and help around the house.”

I could tell he was softening, but I hadn’t quite got him. “And I’ll hang out with Owen next time he’s in town.”

“You like to hang out with your brother, Autumn.”

I laughed. “Or do I?”

“Your mom’s firm has a work dinner in a couple of weeks. If you can handle a weekend at a cabin, you should be able to handle that.”

Nothing could have sounded worse to me. But that’s what compromise was—giving up something for another thing you wanted more. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I can go?”

“I’ll have to double-check with your mom, but I’m sure it will be fine. Be safe. Take your phone. Your rules for the weekend: no drinking, no drugs, and call us every night.”

I kissed his cheek. “Those first two might be hard, but I can definitely handle the third.”

“Funny,” he said.

Call them every night. I hadn’t called them tonight. I wouldn’t call them tonight. That would put him in full dad mode. He’d call my friends. If they hadn’t understood why I wasn’t there before, they’d understand that somewhere along the way I’d gotten left behind. Someone would put two and two together. Sure, my parents would never let me leave the house after this again, but at least someone would find me.

My head ached, so I found my way to the drinking fountain outside the restroom. At least I had water. And nothing else. Nothing else. I shook my head. Those were the wrong thoughts. Someone was going to find me soon. If not tonight, then in the morning, when the library opened. I couldn’t remember what time the library opened on Saturday mornings. Ten? Eight more hours. Easy.

It was getting colder in the building. I found a thermostat box on the wall, but it was locked. This place sure seemed overzealous about their security.

In the distance I could barely make out a steady beat. There was music coming from somewhere. I ran to the front door and saw a group of people walking by on the sidewalk, laughing. They held a phone or iPod or something that was glowing in the darkness and playing music loud enough for me to hear. I banged on the glass and yelled. Not one of them turned or paused. Not one of them looked around like they even heard the hint of a noise. I banged again and yelled louder. Nothing.

“Listening to music too loud damages your hearing,” I said, resting my forehead against the glass. That’s when I saw a white paper below me, taped to the window. I peeled it off and read the front. The library will be closed starting Saturday, January 14, through Monday, January 16, in observance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

Closed for the entire weekend? All three days? I’d be stuck here for three more days? No. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be in a huge building alone for three days. This was my worst nightmare.

My heart was beating so fast now it felt like my chest was being squeezed. My lungs weren’t expanding like they should. I yanked on the chains wrapped around the handles of the front door. Pulled them with all my might. “Let me out.”

A voice in the back of my head told me to calm down before I made this worse. Everything was fine. So I was stuck alone in a library, but I was safe. I could read and jog the stairs and stay busy. There were plenty of distractions here.

In my new quiet state, I heard something behind me. Footsteps on wood.

I whirled around, pressing my back to the door. That’s when I saw a shadowy figure on the stairs, a metal object glinting in his right hand. A knife. I wasn’t alone after all. And I definitely wasn’t safe.





CHAPTER 3


I stayed as flat against the wall as possible. Maybe the person wouldn’t see me. No, that was unlikely, considering that seconds before I had been banging on the wall and pulling the chains on the door. I might as well have been screaming, I’m trapped in a library all alone and am desperate to get out!

What was my plan now? I could run somewhere. Lock myself in a room. Though as far as I knew all the rooms that had locks were already locking me out. Just when I was about to run somewhere, anywhere, to find a weapon or somewhere to hide, he spoke.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” He held up his hands and then, as if just now realizing he held a knife in one, he bent down and tucked it into his boot.

That didn’t make me feel much better. “What are you doing here?”

“Just needed a place to stay.”

Great. I was trapped in the library with a homeless guy? A homeless guy with a knife. My heart was in my throat.

I could tell he was trying to talk in a calm voice, but it came out scratchy. “Let’s sit somewhere and talk. I’m going to get my bag. I left it at the top of the stairs. And then I’m going to come down. Okay?” His hands were still raised in front of him, like that action should make me feel perfectly at ease. “Don’t call anyone until we talk.”

He thought I was going to call someone? If I had access to a phone, I wouldn’t be here. If I had access to any communication device—a bullhorn, a Morse code machine—do those machines have names?—I wouldn’t be here. But I wasn’t going to give away my hand. “Okay,” I said.