Everything Fragile✔

Chapter Seven - There Are No Monsters Under The Bed

   Kingston's public library is a home away from home. Or maybe my home was never a home. At least not after mom died. It became a suffocating place filled with too many memories and emotions to decipher. Here I can run away from all of that.

   There's Fredrick who's a total weirdo. He sits by the window, picking his nose and rubbing it underneath the desk. No one ever sits in that seat besides him. Allison Freeman made that mistake in tenth grade and when I was friends with Willow and Jennifer, we made fun of her for a whole month before letting it drop. When Allisom got her braces removed, the senior's in the football team started taking an interest in her and Willow was hellbent on impressing Carter even though he was my boyfriend.

   What a shallow thing I was.

   Speaking of Allison, she's here too, but with the Model UN fanatics. She had no interest in joining cheer despite how much Willow begged. I suppose Allison has always been someone who did what she wanted without fear of societal repercussions. Something I wish I could've done when I was younger; something I wish I could do now, but like many others, I'm scared. Scared of being the odd man out even though I already am, though not as bad as Fredrick the weirdo and I suppose that's a blessing.

   I look down at the paper resting on the desk before me and realize that I've got nothing done. I've been here for almost an hour and haven't even picked up my freaking pen yet. I'm too busy lost in thought which is crazy because being here is supposed to distract me from the outside world when in reality it just reminds me so much of it. The way the gamers at the public computers laugh together reminds me that I've never felt more alone. Or how the librarian, Miss Winchester, restock shelves reminds me of being at work with my back pressed up against a bullet infested wall as a maniac stared straight into my eyes, feeding off of my fear.

   The chair across from me pulls out from the desk. The legs scraping the floor makes a toe curling noise that has me wincing until it stops. A stranger sits down. Chestnut hair, a slim round face, oval eyes, and thick rimmed glasses seated on top of a long pointed nose.

   I raise a brow. "Can I help you?"

   He smiles, tapping his fingers against his legs. "I think the correct question to ask, Ms. Delco, is whether I can help you."

   It's very rare that I meet someone in this town whose name I don't know. Or who knows me and I have no clue who they are. It's a small town after all. Everyone knows everyone here. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

   "I'm sorry. I have horrible manners. I'm Ethan Lexington. I'm a writer at Creakster Daily."

   His name sounds oddly familiar. It takes me some time to remember where I heard it from. Then, it clicks. Last week, Michael showed me an article about the night of the shooting at Marina's. This dude wrote that. It's not hard for me to piece together why he's here now. Though, I am curious how he found me.

   "You want to know how I took down the shooter?"

   He shrugs. "Who doesn't? You're an overnight sensation. A superhero. What's your secret?"

   My secret? Self preservation. I'm afraid to die. Who isn't? Still, I'm sure that's not the answer Mr. Writer dude wants from me. He's looking for something more and I'm not sure I can provide it for him. "I don't have a secret. I did what I needed to do to survive."

   "That's fair." He pauses, taking the time to look me over. "What's your kryptonite?"

   I sigh. "I'm sorry, I don't have time for these dumb questions."

   He points to the empty paper in front of me. "You've been sitting here daydreaming for the past hour, but you have no time to answer questions?"

   "You've been watching me?"

   "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable." I don't say anything and he doesn't wait for me to. "I had to make sure you were alone."

   I feel like I'm going to be sick.  "Excuse me?"

   "You associate yourself with his nephew."

   "Who?"

   He rolls his eyes like he has the audacity to be annoyed. "Mateo. I have pictures of him visiting you in the hospital."

   It's now that I realize that this man has a briefcase in his hand. He unzips it and pulls out a folder, sliding it across the table to me.

   "Go on. Open it." When I don't make a move to see what lies inside, he does the honor for me. He shows me these images with timestamps at the bottom of each photo. Mateo entering my room and then him leaving twenty minutes later. My throat is dry and I feel like I'm suffocating now.

   I'd like to think that you're smart enough to never mention this conversation to anyone. That's what Mateo said before he left my room that day. We've been caught, but not really because this Ethan dude knows nothing of what we talked about in that room. I'm not at his mercy, he's at mine.

   "He gave me a necklace." There. A lie that can't be falsified. Not after Caleb took it upon himself to instruct Mateo to actually get me one despite my dismay. I suppose it all worked out in the end.

   Ethan snorts, tapping his fingers against his leg again. "I'm trying to help you Quince. Lying to me won't make this any easier, you know? So, what did he offer you? Money? Status?"

   "He lost someone that night. He gave me the necklace in gratitude. I didn't take anything from him."

   I watch Ethan carefully now. How the smile that once lines his mouth is long gone, replaced by a deep scowl. Maybe he thought that it would be easy to drain me of whatever information that lied within, but surprise, surprise! Getting a million dollars is like getting a muzzle that takes away your freedom of speech.

   "Let's try something else. You know Ugine Solvang? The man who tried to kill you? He was murdered last night by this man." He pulls out another image. "You know him?"

   If I were anyone else, I would've gasped. I should've, but I don't. I just remain very still as I gaze into the eyes of a man I saw with Mr. Gonzales at the gym when Mateo and I decided to skip the rest of school a few days ago. I suppose some part of me isn't surprised. Deep inside I knew something was off. I knew I was getting myself into something I wasn't prepared for. It's too late to go back now. That money is in my bank account and betraying a rich person is something I'd rather not do. Especially not to someone like Caleb Gonzalez.

   "I have no idea who that is."

   Ethan smiles. He shuts the folder and stuffs it back into his briefcase. "Seems like I came too late. Too bad. You seem like a really nice girl."

   I gulp. "Are you threatening me?"

   "No, Ms. Delco. I'm warning you." He stands now, eyes twinkling beneath the hanging lamp above us. "I hope you have no dirty secrets beneath your belt, Quince, because when I take down Mr. Gonzales, you and everyone else that associates themselves with him are going down too."