“How old is your brother?” he asked.
“He’s a sophomore in college. Nineteen. That makes me the youngest, with all those fun character traits.”
“What traits are those?”
“Agreeable, motivated, perceptive.”
“You let traits define you?”
“No. There are a lot of characteristics of youngest children that I don’t relate to at all. What about you? Do you have any siblings?” Too late I realized that might’ve been a sore subject for him. He was in foster care. I wasn’t sure how that worked if there was more than one child.
“No. Guess that gives me all the only-child traits.”
“What traits are those?”
“Selfish, private, apathetic.” He had a small smile on his face so I knew he was at least a little bit kidding.
“I think you mean confident, independent, highly motivated.”
“You read a lot of psychology books?”
With my condition, I had, actually. “Yes, and my friend Lisa is an only child.” She liked to brag about how it gave her the advantage in almost every aspect in life. Except humility, I always pointed out. “Do you know Lisa?”
“Is she Indian?”
“No, that’s Avi. Lisa is short, has brown hair.”
He shrugged. “Maybe if I saw her.”
He didn’t know Lisa, but he knew me? I always thought more people knew Lisa.
My eyes shifted from watching the unmoving sticky hands to the scene outside. The snow was higher than I’d seen it in a while. “Do you think that maybe cell phone reception is being affected by the weather?”
“Over a little snow? I doubt it. Why?”
“It’s just, I understand why maybe my friends figured I went home and aren’t worried. But I haven’t called my parents in thirty-six hours now. I’m surprised they haven’t been scouring the city for me. They would’ve called Lisa up at the cabin by now. That’s where they thought I was. Lisa would’ve told them I wasn’t there and someone would figure out I was here. I don’t get it.”
“Up at the cabin? Like in the mountains?”
“Yes.”
“There’s probably more snow up there.”
“So maybe reception is worse up there?”
“It’s possible. If a tower went down or something.”
“If they haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone, they’d just assume we were all snowed in, right? It’s actually happened before—the getting snowed in part.”
“There you go. Mystery solved.”
“Yeah . . . I guess.”
“Do you have another theory?”
“No.” He was right. They were snowed in. My parents assumed I was too. Jeff hadn’t opened his trunk all weekend to see my bag. It was the only thing that made sense. Lisa was probably sitting up at the cabin with Avi and Morgan, angry that I had bailed on them. We’d all laugh about this when they found out the truth. That I had spent the weekend in a big creepy library. It really was a new adventure for me.
“Where else have you spent the night?” I asked.
Dax was quiet, and I suddenly realized how that sounded without the benefit of my thought process. “I mean, when you don’t stay at home and it’s snowing out,” I corrected.
“This isn’t a weekly event or anything.”
“I know, but I can tell it’s not an uncommon occurrence either.”
When his silence stretched on I said, “You’re right, you better not tell me or I might show up at your next stop.”
That comment won me a small smile.
“There’s some churches that are left unlocked sometimes. And I’ve stayed at the school before.”
“Our school? Really?”
Dax shifted next to me, and his shoulder brushed against mine and then stayed there. I didn’t move away.
“Yes,” he said.
“Don’t you ever get scared?”
“No.”
“Are you scared of anything? What’s the first thought that comes to your mind when I say worst fear?”
He seemed to think about it.
“I said first thought. No thinking, just spit it out.”
“Commitment.”
“Like to a girl?”
“To whatever. A girl, a cat, a class. What about you?” he asked before I could make him explain more.
“Having no control.”
“Over what?”
“Boys, cats, classes.”
He smiled.
“I don’t know, anything, I guess. Whether a teacher calls on me in class or not. Whether my mom can keep her job. It’s irrational, because I have no control over it. But that’s the point, I guess. I wish I did.”
My butt was numb from the cold, but I sat still, staring at the sticky hands on the glass, willing his to stay for just a few more minutes so this game would last longer. What was wrong with me? Thirty-six hours and suddenly I was craving human contact from anyone, apparently. I leaned on my right hand, breaking our connection. I could see my own breath, white puffs of air, in front of me.
Another section of Dax’s sticky hand detached itself from the glass.
“Looks like mine is about to fall,” he said, standing up.
“I want to win fair and square.”
He backed up. “You will.”
“Where are you going?” I asked as he walked away.
“Let me know who wins. I’m cold.”
“You can’t just leave. What if mine falls?”
“You seem like the type who would let me know that.”
“I could lie.”
He gave a small laugh as he continued to walk away. “No, actually, you can’t.”
“Just because you’re freakishly good at reading facial expressions doesn’t mean I can’t lie,” I mumbled, but he was already gone and I wasn’t sure if he heard me. I wasn’t sure why I was trying to claim I was an expert liar or why he made me think that should be one of my goals. It wasn’t.
CHAPTER 14
It had taken at least another hour for his sticky hand to fall, followed by mine a couple of minutes later. By that time my hands were numb and my lungs were ice. My chin vibrated my teeth together. I grabbed both sticky hands where they had fallen down to the floor below and went back to the main library. It didn’t feel much warmer.
“I w-won,” I stuttered out to his reading form, then dropped into the nearest chair, plopping both the toy hands on the table. “In your face.”
He smiled. “You’re getting better at smack talk.” He had the sleeping bag around him. He took it off and held it out for me. When I didn’t move, he got up and walked it over.
“Was it worth it?” he asked, dropping it in my lap.
“Depends on your truth.”
“Oh, right, what’s your question?” He went back to his chair.
What was my question? Wasn’t this why I’d waited so long in that icy hall? I’d really wanted another truth out of him. There were so many questions I could ask—how was I supposed to narrow it down to one?
“I’m not all that interesting,” he said when I was quiet for too long.
“Just a mystery,” I responded, causing him to laugh. I really did like his laugh.
“How so?”
“You’re always alone, you disappear during lunch, you never talk, not even in class, and you don’t seem to care what anyone thinks of you.”
“And here I thought you hadn’t been paying attention.”
“You’re hard to ignore.” When I realized how that sounded, I added, “Everyone is always talking about you.” My statement went from bad to worse. I stopped while I was ahead.
“Right. So was there a question in there somewhere?”
“Where are your parents?”
When he flinched a little, I knew I was the most insensitive person ever. What made me think I had earned that information, even if we were on the same team now? “You don’t have to tell me. I can think of another question.”
“My dad
is physically absent and my mom is mentally absent.”
I must’ve looked confused because he clarified. “My dad left when I was little. My mom is a drug addict.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Like I told you before, I am perfectly fine. I am in a really good situation. And next year, I’ll be officially free of the entire system.”
He had nobody. Nobody he could count on when he was in trouble, nobody to help him if he made the wrong step or lost his way. He was all alone. My eyes burned with tears that I held back.
He sighed. “Don’t assign me emotions. Don’t pretend to know what I’m thinking based on your experiences.”
I tried to control my expression even more. I needed to take him at his word. He said he was fine. He was probably fine. I was giving him emotions based on my universe, not his. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He picked up his book again and read.
It had been hours. I was wrapped up in the sleeping bag and my teeth still hadn’t stopped chattering. I wondered if it was the lack of food. Did the body need food to warm itself? What had I been thinking staying in that cold hallway for so long? Dax didn’t seem cold at all, sitting there in his chair reading away.
“D-Dax.” My throat hurt.
“Yeah?”
“What are the symptoms of hypothermia? Because I can no longer feel my fingers.”
He glanced up at me, then back down. “Go run the stairs or something.”
“Run the stairs . . .” He was right. I just needed to get my blood pumping. I stood and walked toward the stairs. Stars appeared in my vision for a moment, my head light. But I maintained my balance and made it to the stairs. The hallway was dark, the sun setting. I had been in the library for another full day. Just one more full day to go. Plus two nights . . . Why did that sound like an eternity?
I started the steps slow, just walking up each one. As the feeling returned to my extremities, I picked up my pace. My mind began to wander. I missed my friends. Especially Jeff. He made me laugh. Just the week before he’d come into the yearbook room, where I was arranging the Clubs page on the computer. He’d sat down, took one look at the page I’d spent the last thirty minutes on, and said, “Looks perfect, now let’s go.”
“Does it really? I’m not sure if this one is very good.”
He had barely given it a glance. “All your pictures are awesome. Now come with me.” He pulled me up by the arm and led me away.
“I need to save my work.”
“Someone will save it for you. You need to take me to the teachers’ lounge and buy me a soda.”
“We’re not allowed in the teachers’ lounge.”
He stopped in front of the door leading there. “I’m not allowed in the teachers’ lounge. But you can go anywhere you want, it seems. Teachers like you. With you by my side, I could do anything.”
“I’m not going into the teachers’ lounge.”
He laughed and then knocked. I gasped, my heart racing.
The vice principal opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“Autumn wants a soda,” he said.
“No, I . . .” I started through my tight throat.
“Hold on a second.” She shut the door and I shot Jeff a look.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“Don’t worry. No trouble here.”
He had been right. She came back a minute later holding a Coke. When she shut the door again I laughed.
“See, teachers love you.”
“Oh please. You wrote the book on how to charm teachers. Obviously.”
He smiled.
My socked foot slipped on a stair, jolting me out of my memory and nearly sending me falling. I caught hold of the rail, preventing that fate. My stomach let out a large growl and I wondered if physical activity was going to make me warmer but hungrier. I headed to the kitchen and decided the mystery dish needed to be warmed up and attempted. The only thing I’d had that day was half of a protein bar, and that was hours ago.
The microwave took me a while to decipher. I overcooked it a bit, hoping that would kill any bacteria that might’ve been living in the old food. I tried not to think about that as I forked a small bite into my mouth. It tasted like pasta with marinara sauce and it was very good. I wasn’t sure if that was because I hadn’t eaten anything real in a while or if it actually was good, but I took a few more bites anyway.
I ate exactly half and took the rest down to Dax.
“You braved the unknown?” he asked, accepting the dish and looking in the bowl like he wasn’t sure he was willing to do the same. He sniffed at it.
“Yes. It’s good. Eat it.”
The food and the exercise had done the trick for me, and my chin had finally stopped shivering. Dax put his book to the side and took a small bite.
“What do you think it is?” I asked.
“Pasta? Very overdone pasta.”
“It tasted good to me. Probably because I’m hungry.”
He took another bite, then held out the bowl. “You can have the rest. I don’t like it.”
“Really? You’re a food critic now?”
“Yes. And that’s disgusting.”
I grabbed the pasta and it wasn’t until I ate two big bites that it occurred to me what he’d just done. Did he just pretend not to like it so I could eat it? Because this wasn’t gross at all. I wasn’t sure one way or the other. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, but then again, he was different than I’d originally thought.
“Have you ever been to that Italian place on Center Street? Gloria’s or something?” I asked.
“No.”
“Because you don’t like Italian food?”
“It’s not my favorite.”
Huh. Maybe he really didn’t like it. I finished off the rest and put the empty dish down. “You should work on your history project while you’re here. We finished ours on Friday.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” I could tell that was the last thing he was going to do. I wondered how his grades in school were. He missed so much I couldn’t imagine him doing very well.
“I can help you if you want.”
“Sure. You get started. I’ll join you in a couple hours.”
I kicked his foot with a smile. “Funny.”
I walked over to the pile of books I had thrown the first night. Some were open facedown, their pages bent. I picked them up one by one, smoothing out the pages and stacking them neatly. Then I walked them over to a cart at the end of an aisle. There were several books already on the cart, waiting to be put away. Books with titles like: Ten Steps to Rehabilitation, Habits of an Addict, Brain Chemistry and Addiction. They weren’t necessarily Dax’s books—they could’ve been anyone’s, but Dax had been here Friday too, obviously, waiting for the library to close. Was this the research he was doing instead of Mr. Garcia’s project?
He doesn’t want your pity, I reminded myself.
“I’m getting ready for bed,” I told him, then turned around and headed for the bathroom, where he’d started leaving all the toiletries he’d brought. I took my time getting ready and then tucked myself into his sleeping bag.
CHAPTER 15
I awoke to a sound I couldn’t quite place at first. A clicking of sorts. It took me several disorienting minutes to realize it was Dax, twenty feet away from me, shivering in his sleep. Had he been holding back his shivering when he was awake for my sake? I tried to ignore it, knowing he wouldn’t want me to do anything, but I felt guilty. I had the very thing he had brought to keep himself warm. I climbed out of the sleeping bag, unzipped it and crawled over to him, dragging it behind me.
When I reached his side, I draped half of it over him and kept the other half. He immediately woke up . . . or maybe he hadn’t been fully asleep to begin with.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“That seems to be your mantra. Just take half.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Shut up and take it.”<
br />
He didn’t argue and finally stopped fighting it. He was cold. We weren’t even touching but the temperature under the bag noticeably dropped with his icy presence.
He chuckled a little.
“What?”
“Have you ever told anyone to shut up?”
“Nope. It’s like you pull it out of me.”
“How did it feel?” he asked.
“Good, actually.”
He laughed again and I inched a little closer, knowing my body heat would warm him up even faster.
We were quiet for several breaths. Breaths that I could see like a mist above us as we both lay on our backs. We had been in the library for two full days and even though I felt like we had some sort of pact, I wondered if he would acknowledge me outside this situation. “Are we friends yet?”
“I don’t have friends.”
I nodded even though I was pretty sure he couldn’t see me.
“But . . . you’re less annoying than I imagined you’d be.”
“Thanks.” That was probably the closest he would ever come to giving a compliment, but I was still offended. I didn’t want him to know that so I added, “You imagined me often?”
It had been a joke, but the way he went still beside me made me think that maybe there was some truth to it.
“Yes, all the time.”
“I thought so,” I said, pretending I didn’t know he was being sarcastic.
“Is it hard for you to think someone might not like you?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Why do you care what people think so much?”
I thought about that question. Why did I care? Because I liked it when people were happy. Because I didn’t like to think that someone might not like me? “I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to sleep now that your teeth aren’t chattering anymore.”
“My teeth weren’t chattering.”
“They totally were. Apparently you do have some feelings as much as you try to deny them.”
He didn’t say anything back, so I said, “Good night.”
“Night.”
I inched even closer, because his body still felt cold, and tried to sleep. My mind wouldn’t shut off. Five minutes passed, then ten. The second hand on the wall clock sounded like a drum beat.