“I was planning to stay somewhere else.”
I waited for him to clarify, but that was the extent of his answer. “You’re not a big talker.”
“I talk when I have things to say.”
“Was that supposed to be insightful?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be anything but an answer.”
This was going to be a long weekend.
He closed the book and placed it on the table next to him, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Why are you here?”
I wanted to give him a snarky answer to compete with his responses. Something like, I wanted to eat stolen apples and read books all weekend. But I held my tongue. Maybe if he learned more about me, he’d realize I just wanted to leave. I wasn’t here to ruin whatever plan he’d had when coming here. “I had to pee.”
He leaned back and picked up his book, as though I really had given him my fake answer.
“We were here, working on that history project Mr. Garcia assigned. Did you do that yet?”
He must’ve realized I was actually answering his question, because instead of opening his book he placed it in his lap and shook his head no.
“Anyway, we were here, a bunch of us, and we stayed past closing to finish our papers. Everyone was leaving, getting in cars, and then I had to pee.”
“Your friends left you?” Now his expression changed. He was surprised.
“There were four cars. Lisa thought I was going with Jeff.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend . . . yet. But anyway, Jeff’s car was full so he must’ve thought I went with Lisa or Dallin or someone. But I was with nobody . . . obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No. I’m confused.”
“About which part?” I set my now-empty mug on the table next to me.
“About the part where they didn’t come back.”
“Well, that’s the part I’m confused about too.” Sort of.
“Some sort of hazing?”
“You think my friends were hazing me?”
He shrugged. “So it was an accident? They all accidentally forgot about you?”
“They wouldn’t do that. They must’ve thought I went home or maybe they didn’t realize this is the place they lost track of me and are looking for me somewhere else right now.” I’d already gone over a million theories about why they hadn’t come back for me, each one worse than the last. I’d had to stop before I drove myself crazy with worry.
He uncrossed his ankles and sat forward again. “Lost track of you?”
“I don’t know where they are. I don’t know why they didn’t come back. There’s a reason, and it’s a good one, and we’ll all laugh about it when I get out of here. We’ll laugh, and it will all make sense, and it will be a story I’ll tell forever. The time I got stuck in the library with the—”
I stopped abruptly. My cheeks went hot and I looked down at my shoes. I wasn’t sure how I was going to finish that sentence but no option had been a good one. The criminal? The druggie? The druggie’s son? I’d heard it all.
He raised his eyebrows. “Finish. You were doing so good.”
“Sorry.”
“Why?”
“Never mind. That’s my story. What’s yours?”
“Mine?”
“Why are you here?”
He held up his book. “I wanted to read.”
“And eat stolen apples?”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just, I told you why I was here, and that’s what I get in return?”
“There aren’t any books in my house. Well, unless you count the Good Book. But that’s mainly used to condemn me.” He ran a hand through his hair and didn’t continue. Like he had said too much.
But he hadn’t said anything. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me. When we get out of here we’ll go our separate ways.”
He sighed. “Speaking of. I’m not sure how you’re going to spin this when we eventually get discovered, but can we just tell our own stories? You go with the pee one, and I’ll let myself out when the doors are opened and go my own way.”
“I can’t tell people you were here?”
“You can do whatever you want. Tell your friends you were stuck here with the . . . whatever . . . but the librarians, the cops . . .”
“What about the cops?” I asked, wrapping the sleeping bag tighter around my shoulders. “Why are they going to be involved?”
“If someone reported you missing, they will be involved.”
“What if someone reported you missing?”
“They didn’t.”
“Why not? Don’t you think your parents are worried about you?”
“No.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No. I’m not. But I don’t want trouble.”
“You won’t get it from me.” At least that’s what I was saying now while I was trying to earn his trust. And his phone.
Hopefully his phone would be easier to get than his trust. Because I could tell his trust wasn’t something he regularly granted.
CHAPTER 6