Turning Pages

Chapter Three

THREE 

The rest of the week dragged by. Knowing that Rob would be home in just over two weeks made each second tick by like an hour. I kept myself busy in class by taking good notes and reading a lot. I focused on work by organizing books, making up a new Story Time schedule, and ignoring Blake as much as I could, even when he was impossible to ignore. And Gina's little plan had totally backfired, just like I thought it would-even her red sweater didn't do the trick. I didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or to give Blake a mental high-five for resisting a very tempting temptation. 

On Sunday, Mom still wasn't ready to face church, so we all stayed home. We knew Dad wouldn't want us to hide away from the world, but it was still too new, too fresh, and sympathy hurt more than helped. We wouldn't stay gone forever-when the time was right, we'd be on the front row again. 

Benji had spent most of the weekend outside with his basketball, working through his feelings the only way he knew how. I kept an eye on him, but figured it wasn't quite time for me to corner him for a heart-to-heart. He'd come to me when he was ready. 

Monday came around again and it was time to change the Staff Picks display. I took A Girl of the Limberlost from the stacks and placed it next to Hillary's choice of Eat, Pray, Love and Melanie's The Maze Runner. Then I grabbed a cloth and began to dust, wondering where we should put the library Christmas tree. Sure, it wasn't quite Thanksgiving yet, but it was never too early to plan. 

"So, where's your dad?" 

I pressed my lips together. "Beg your pardon?" 

Blake leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed over his chest. "Your book choice. A Girl of the Limberlost. Raised by a bitter mother with issues, father killed in a drowning accident, girl turns to nature for solace. You picked it-you must identify with it in some way." 

I tossed the cloth onto a shelf and folded my arms, mimicking his stance. "My father died three months ago. He and my mom were in an accident when a deer ran in front of their car and they went over a guardrail. My mother is struggling with grief and depression and has a broken arm, so, yeah, you might say she's having some issues. And I seek solace in a library. That is, until someone came along and decided to make this a very uncomfortable place for me to be." 

Blake opened and closed his mouth but didn't reply, and I didn't give him the opportunity. I turned and walked toward the bathroom, more hurt and angry than I'd been . . . since the last time I'd talked to him. Wasn't there some kind of law to keep employees from butting into each other's personal lives? That's all he wanted to do-interrogate me, belittle me, find whatever button he could push to totally set me off. I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and moistened it, blotting the hot tears from my cheeks. With a grimace at myself in the mirror, I turned to leave the bathroom, only to run into Hillary. 

"Hey," she said, apparently not noticing that I'd turned into Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer. "Mr. Carlsen wants us for staff meeting right now."  

I glanced at my watch. It was fifteen minutes before our usual meeting time-why was he rushing us? I hastened my steps and heard Blake's dress shoes echo on the floor behind me. Who wore dress shoes to work in a library? Pompous people, that's who. 

Melanie was already in the office, as was Terry. Hillary entered last and leaned against the doorframe. She had a claustrophobia thing about rooms filled with people. 

Mr. Carlsen sat at his desk, hunched over and looking even older than usual. He cleared his throat, always a sure sign he was about to impart some bad news. 

"Staff," he said, not meeting anyone's eyes, "Friday night, I had a talk with the city council. They are going to bring a motion to the next public meeting to tear our building down and build a new library on this spot of land."