library | jmb

21

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? Joey didn't seem cold at all, sitting there in his chair reading away.

"J-Joey." 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 Jacob. 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?""Addison wants a soda," he said.

"No, I . . ." I started through my tight throat.

"Hold on a second." She shut the door and I shot Jacob 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 Joey.

"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. Joey 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.