When I got to the library section, Dax’s bag wasn’t where I’d seen it last. Had he hidden it? But then I realized he’d just tucked it under the chair. I rushed forward, knowing I didn’t have a lot of time, and squatted down. The black handle stuck out so I gave it a tug. It was wedged a little and it took me a couple of good yanks to free. I listened carefully to make sure I didn’t hear him coming.
Undoing that zipper was the loudest five seconds of my life. It seemed to echo through the whole room as I held my breath. Once it was open I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I was still in the clear. I was. The bag contained everything an overnight bag might: toiletries (I was going to kill him for not telling me he had toothpaste), extra clothes, socks, a couple of protein bars (was he planning to share those?), and finally, finally, at the bottom of the bag I found what I was looking for. A phone. It was an old flip one and when I opened it the screen was dark.
I wasn’t sure how to turn it on. I held down the side button for a few seconds. Nothing happened. So I tried the button with a picture of a green phone on it. Still nothing.
“Really?” Dax said from behind me.
I twirled toward him, still in my squatting position, and immediately lost my balance and fell on my butt. His phone was now held out in front of me in plain sight.
“You have a phone,” I said. “I’m stuck here and you have a phone.”
“You went through my things?” It was a question but the anger in his voice made it more of an accusation.
“I had to, because you told me you didn’t have a phone, but you really do. I just want to call my family. I’m sure they’re worried about me.”
“Go ahead.” He pointed to the phone.
Was this some sort of a trick? I looked at the black screen again. “I can’t turn it on.”
“Exactly.” He plucked it from my hand, shoved it back into his bag, and zipped it up.
“What do you mean exactly? Can you turn it on for me?”
“No, I can’t. It has no minutes and no charge.”
“Oh.” I still sat on the floor and was too deflated to get up. “Well, that’s not very helpful.”
“You know, before coming here, I forgot to think about you and your needs.”
“Why would you pack a dead phone? Is the charger in there?”
“You tell me.”
“Why did you follow me down here, anyway?”
“Because you left the room looking guilty, like you were about to commit a crime.”
“You know that look well?”
“Stay out of my things.” He said it low and barely audible.
“I’m sorry for going through your stupid bag. I just want to get out of here. My family is probably worried sick about me. Isn’t your family worried about you?”
“No.”
“I’m sure they are. Did you run away?”
“No.”
“Then what? You just left? They’re okay with you just leaving for the weekend? Spending the night in empty libraries?”
“They let me come and go as I please, and I don’t turn them in for the weed they grow in the basement. It works out well.”
I was stunned silent for a moment. I had heard his mom was a druggie, but it was hard to know what was rumor and what was fact. “Your parents grow weed in the basement?”
“My foster parents. Just forget I said that.”
For some reason I was more surprised that it was his foster parents than I would’ve been if it were his real parents.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s perfect. Best situation I’ve had yet.”
Best situation he’d had yet? “I’m so sorry.”
“Why? I have freedom. I’m sorry for you and your pathetically predictable life.”
“Maybe I’m sorry because it’s turned you into a total jerk.”
“Better than a na?ve, spoiled priss.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. There was that word again. Why did I even try? I was not one of those girls who needed to fix broken boys. I stood up and started to walk away, but before I got too far, I marched back to his bag, opened it up, and said, “I’m borrowing your toothpaste.”
His face was one part shock and one part anger when I left again, toothpaste in hand.
When I got to the bathroom I leaned my back up against the cold tile wall and covered my face with my hand. He didn’t have a phone, the only thing that had given me any hope. I really was officially stuck here.
As my breath hitched I reminded myself to focus on the good things. I had toothpaste. And a TV. I could work with that.
CHAPTER 8
As the movie credits rolled up the small screen in the break room, a memory worked its way into my mind. A couple of weeks ago a group of us had gone to the movies. Jeff, the first of our guy friends to arrive, had stepped over and around a whole row of people to sit next to me. “Is this seat saved for Lisa?” he’d asked.
It was. “No,” I said, just as Lisa came in the door and saw her seat taken. I looked at her over his shoulder and she just smiled. I owed her one.
“So it was saved for me, then?”
“We’ll go with that,” I said, stealing a handful of his popcorn.
“First one’s free,” he said.
“Oh, really. And how much for another handful?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you find out?”
I hadn’t followed through but changed the subject. “Where is Dallin and everyone?”