Burn Before Reading(62)

****

When people are sad, they deal with it in a lot of different ways. For Fitz, it was drugs. For Dad, it was closing the doors on the world. For Mom, it was staying out more.

For me it was, and always would be, hiding in the library.

The smell of books was the smell of my childhood, of old imaginary friends and new, hidden between the pages. Libraries meant quiet - gentle and soothing quiet - like the quiet of a low tide. Everything was orderly, too – the Dewey decimally sorted books, the A to Z labelling, the fiction and nonfiction and vampire romance sections. Everything had its place. When life got too confusing, I came to the library, because nothing about the library was confusing. The librarians would help you, no matter what you were looking for, they always had at least one answer, or a semblance of an answer. And sometimes, that was a lot more than the world outside could give me.

Unfortunately, Fitz knew about this. He knew my hideout was the library. Doubly unfortunately, he’d told Burn.

“Bee,” Burn’s low voice made me put my book down, and once again I was struck by just how damn big Burn was. He was tall enough to reach the topmost shelf, easily.

“Oh, uh, hey,” I closed my textbook. “What’s up? Are you alright –” I stopped myself. He hated that phrase. “I mean, uh, how’d you find me? Wait, let me guess – Fitz.”

“Fitz,” Burn agreed with a nod. “Come with me.”

“If you want me to run my ass off again after this morning, in which you worked me like a racing horse, I’m gonna have to decline.”

“It’s a surprise,” Is all he said. His face was placid, calm as always. His eyes were sleepy, giving nothing away about what he was feeling or thinking.

“Is it a good surprise?” I asked.

“I think you’ll like it.”

“Simple and mysterious at the same time,” I sighed and stood up, packing my books in my bag. “I don’t know how you do it, Burn.”

“Talent.” He answered. I followed him out of the library, admiring his height. He was like a giant striding among walls of books. Even the librarian gaped a little, then waved nervously goodbye to me.

Burn led me across campus, over the short grasses and around the statues of important old dead guys, until we reached the parking lot. He opened the door of his convertible, and I hesitated.

“Wait. The surprise is off-campus?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to sell me on the black market for my liver?” I asked as I settled in the passenger seat.

“No.”

“Fair enough.” I clipped my seatbelt on as he got in. “Take me away. Just. Not very fast, please. But also make it quick – I should probably get home in an hour or so.”

“Demanding,” He sighed. I smiled.

“They don’t call me ‘Annoying Annie’ in this school for nothing.”

He drove past the fancy sign that read LAKECREST PREPARATORY HIGH SCHOOL. I flipped it off.

“They don’t call you that.” He said.

“Well, they should. I’d prefer a mean nickname to all the weird looks and half-baked rumors.”

“You’re lucky.”

I’d spent enough time around him at this point to translate the Burnese; I was lucky that’s all it was. And he was right. It could be a lot worse. But that didn’t mean I had to be grateful for it.

“Just because it isn’t super bad doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” I said sagely. Burn grunted and took a left turn onto the highway, and I forgot how to breathe. Or, more accurately, the wind stole the breath from my lungs in that way that happens when you’re in a fast-moving thing and your windpipe is left open to invaders. I figured out how to breathe again, and let the wind whip my hair around. I watched the world flash by in autumn colors, the trees giving one last dying gasp of saffron yellow and burnt orange sugar.

We entered a richy-rich suburb; you could tell from the way all the houses had roman columns on their porch and random, sleekly modern glass walls. Only rich people had glass for walls.

Burn pulled over, and told me to wait. I did, twiddling my thumbs, only to groan when I saw who he was bringing back with him in the side mirror; Fitz, and Wolf. Together. One at a time they weren’t so bad, but together? Fitz thought I liked Wolf. I’d told Wolf we were squarely enemies. How the ever-loving hell was I going to pull this acting stint off?

“If it isn’t our lovely mascot,” Fitz jumped into the convertible without opening the door.

“Hi,” I managed. I didn’t look at Wolf, and he didn’t look at me either, though out of the corner of my eye I did see him hesitate with his fingers on the door handle.

“Why is she here?” He growled at Burn. Burn doubled around and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Because. She’s my friend.”

There was a silence. Friend? Yeah, I could say Burn and I were definitely friends. He was easy to get along with, and helped me feel better about stuff. I think that qualified us as friends.

Or, it didn’t. It couldn’t. A friendship wasn’t based on one person trying to get information out of the other. I’d started talking to Burn because of the agreement with Mr. Blackthorn. None of what we shared was built on a neutral standpoint. It was all me, trying to get what I wanted, through him. I knitted my hands around each other in my lap.