Zelda
“Are you all right, Ms. Montgomery?”
I blink up at Mrs. Sanders, who is peering down at me. From this angle, she looks ten feet tall. I give her a smile that can’t possibly be convincing. “Of course, Mrs. Sanders. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She purses her lips. “If you’re not feeling well, you should probably go home.”
I straighten my back. “I’m feeling fine.”
This is as big of a lie as any I’ve ever told. Today has been a terrible day already, and it’s not even 10 a.m.
It started earlier this morning. I woke up at seven, unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, and forced myself into a pair of running shoes and one of my workout outfits.
At first it felt good to run, but with every block I got father away from home, my paranoia grew.
What if Sawyer’s boss—former boss, I tried to remind myself unsuccessfully—showed up at my house again while I was gone?
What if he went to the main floor instead?
I ended up sprinting two and a half miles home, only to find everything as untouched as when I left it.
Except the door.
After I showered, I went upstairs to where my parents were having breakfast and told them what had happened. In vague terms.
My father was furious. His jaw got tighter and tighter as I told the story. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but deadly. “This had to do with Sawyer?”
There was no way of getting around that. “Yes. But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything—” I’d shaken my head. “Anything he’s done, it wasn’t cause for that.”
“I’d hope not.” He got up from the breakfast table and put his plate in the sink with a loud clunk, the most violent he’ll ever allow himself to get. “I’ll call someone about the door today. We should probably have the locks changed on the main house, too.”
I’d looked at him in disbelief. “Why? They didn’t take my purse, or my keys.”
My dad gave me a look then, and it hit me like a cannonball in the chest. Sawyer had access to my purse, and my dad couldn’t trust it.
I swallowed the urge to defend him. Sawyer is the reason I was in that situation in the first place.
But swallowing didn’t clear away the lump in my throat, didn’t wipe away the concerned look from my mom’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m—” Tears threatened to spill out of the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t ever think—”
“It’s all right, honey.” My mom had come around the table and wrapped me in her arms. “Are you going to be okay?”
I’d stood there, trembling, trying to keep a new wave of sobs from flowing.
It hurts like hell to do the right thing.
I thought about calling in to the library, but what was I going to do at home? Sit and sulk? Cry on my parents’ couch while the repairman came and went? In the end, I drove to work, parked in my usual spot, and took my place behind the circulation desk.
All morning, I’ve been checking out books, smiling at patrons, making small talk—all the usual things. And all morning, I’ve been caving in on myself, my gut churning, my chest tight, throat aching. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was sick. But I’m not sick. I’m heartbroken.
But I’m not going to get into that with Mrs. Sanders. “Really.” I try my best to make my smile more genuine.
“All right.” She doesn’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth, and I wouldn’t either.
When her footsteps disappear up the steps to the second floor, I stand up from the chair and stretch my arms. A drink. I need a drink. Something alcoholic is what I really want—a fifth of whiskey, maybe—but that’s not an option, so I’ll settle for coffee.
I’ve put the sign on the desk and turned away when a voice bombards me from behind.
“Well, excuse me.”
Gritting my teeth, I turn back with a grimace plastered on my face. I hope it comes off as a smile.
“Oh, my God,” Carly says, her eyes going wide. “What happened to you?”
How did I not recognize her voice? I let out a choking laugh. “What are you doing here?”
“Stopping by the public library to check out some books.” She sashays over to the desk and leans her elbows on it. “And check up on my best friend. How have you been?”
I give her a look, crossing back to the desk. “We’ve been…texting.”
“Yeah. We’re always texting. Except the last couple of weeks. You’ve been mighty cagey, Zee.”
I roll my eyes, a lump coming to my throat. It’s true. “I was seeing somebody.”
“That guy from the club?”
“How did you know?”
She rolls her eyes. “If it was anybody else, you would have told me.”
“Well.” I raise my hand to my eyes and wipe away a tear that’s trying its best to escape. “It didn’t work out.”
Carly frowns. “It didn’t?”
“Don’t look so surprised. You saw him that night. You talked to him. Did you really think he was long-term material?” My voice is far more bitter than I planned, but I can’t help it.
“Not for me.”
“Oh, nice.”
“I saw the way you were looking at him.”
I take a deep breath, trying to get myself back under control. “Things were good for a minute there, and then they…went south.”
“I know they were good.”
“How could you know that? I didn’t—” Heat rises to my cheeks. I’ve really been holding back on Carly lately. I’ve been in over my head with Sawyer, with school—with everything but my best friend.
One side of her mouth turns up. “You’ve been downright chipper, Zee. And we haven’t been out since that night. Something had to be going on.” Her smile gets bigger. “Was I right?” But the smile disappears almost immediately. “Even if I was right, it must have been a rough landing.”
“It was.” My lower lip is starting to tremble. If we keep this up, I’m going to be a blubbering mess. I steel myself. “It’s for the best.”
Carly narrows her eyes.
“It was for the best,” I say again, putting all the conviction I can behind it.
“You don’t look like it,” she says softly.
“Yes, I do. I look great.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“We need to go to lunch.”