Chapter 10| Dakota Anderson [REWRITTEN]

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"we've been sneaking around, but we do it lightly, no more middle school tongues, if you show up unarmed, be still our beating hearts"

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"we've been sneaking around, but we do it lightly, no more middle school tongues, if you show up unarmed, be still our beating hearts"

latchkey kids • silversun pickups

Growing up an only child certainly had its perks; I didn't have to fight over the bathroom with anyone, no one ate my food out of the fridge, and I was free to do as I please without any annoying little siblings selling me out. But it also meant that I grew used to being alone from an early age.

At school I had friends in class and every day on the field for practice. We sat together at lunch and usually ended up at someone's house on the weekends. There was company when I needed it, but it didn't change the fact that most days I came home to an empty house.

Dad's office was in the city. He was gone early in the mornings and home late every night. Mum kept shorter hours but between my soccer practice and her work functions, we only saw fleeting glances of one another during the week.

On the rare occasion I wasn't home alone, it was Mum kissing my cheek on her way out the door, telling me there were leftovers in the fridge, or Dad's voice radiating authority over a conference call with some company like Decker Petroleum behind the great oak door of his office.

Some afternoons I wandered through the house like a ghost, moving through each room that was so pristine it was hard to believe anyone actually lived here. The silence could get so overwhelming at times, so I found an alternative: the public library.

Technically, the library was an addition of the university's facilities a few towns over but it was open to the public. It had been built in the 1800s and remodelled in 2012, though the brick and stone architecture remained antiquated. 

No one knew how much I adored the place. There was the ambience of old-world charm, complete with long mahogany tables and overcrowded bookshelves that resembled something out of a Charles Dickens novel. The overhead lanterns now housed modern lightbulbs instead of candles but the appeal was never lost.

The library's distance from town was fortunate for me as it meant I was less likely to run into anyone I knew there. There was no excuse I could provide if someone from school found me nestled amongst books and dust instead of stirring up a storm on the soccer pitch.

The following Sunday morning, I parked my car and retrieved my book bag from the passenger seat, climbing out and slinging it over one shoulder. The air was cooler today, an overcast sky blocking out the last rays of summer sunshine. Autumn was setting in fast this year, leaves scattered along the sidewalk in tones of orange and gold. 

Climbing the concrete steps, I entered the building and made my way through the large room towards the back. A series of bookshelves formed a barrier between the tables and the windows, making it easier to conceal myself from the random passer-by.

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