Or maybe nobody would notice. I’d tugged it ten times, then had gone downstairs to the main doors to wait for someone to arrive. But an hour later the outside of the library wasn’t swarming with super-observant concerned citizens or hyperaware firefighters. No, the front path only held perfectly undisturbed snow.
I’d ring it twenty times. Or nonstop. Someone would hear it then. I backed up slowly from the front door, about to head up the stairs again, when a thought hit me. Firefighter. I was an idiot. This was a public library. There was a way better alarm in this place. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
A small red lever on a wall should’ve been easier to find. Especially since it was supposed to be findable in case of an emergency. It didn’t help that it was getting dark. I had found the glass case with the fire extinguisher behind it. The one that said In case of fire, break glass. I assumed an alarm would sound if I broke the glass, but I felt bad doing that when there really wasn’t a fire. There had to be a basic lever somewhere. Something of the non-glass-breaking variety. Maybe it was in the main room.
Dax was back in his usual spot, book in hand, when I walked in, like he’d never left. After one lap of the library, he asked, “What are you doing?”
“I have a plan.” One he would probably hate, because it involved bringing the authorities right to our doorstep, but he hadn’t told me why that was such a big deal anyway, so I didn’t care. I went to the checkout desk and searched the underside for a panic button. Did all buildings have those or just banks?
“Are you going to share?”
“Oh, now you want a commentary?”
He didn’t respond, and I was done playing his surly game. The one where he put in minimal effort and expected maximum results. I didn’t have to talk either.
Kitchen! There would be a fire alarm in the kitchen for sure. That was where a fire was most likely to start in a place like this. I headed there. I heard Dax’s footsteps on the stairs behind me. That was fine with me. He could see my plan in real time.
I was right. Directly outside the kitchen on the wall was my red beacon of hope. I let out a cry of relief. But as I reached for it, I was abruptly pulled back by my hips.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I turned to face him. “Saving us. The fire department will come and realize someone is in here and save us.”
He moved between me and the fire alarm. “After breaking down the door with axes. Not to mention the alarm is probably attached to sprinklers. Is your family going to pay for the damage?”
I looked up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there were sprinklers.
“Can you really not last two more days in here? Is it that bad?”
I thought about the episode I’d just had where it felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. I didn’t want to live through another one of those. “Yes. It is. I want to go home. I doubt the alarm will set off the sprinklers. Usually there has to be smoke for that. There’s a window by the front door. I’ll stand there and let the firefighters know there is no fire, just trapped people. They won’t break anything. They’ll go get a key or something.” I wasn’t sure if that was true. Maybe someone would try to come in from the back or a window. But I really needed this. “Move.”
“I need to be able to leave undetected. Don’t do this. For me.”
“We play one card game together and you think we’re friends?”
He gave a breathy laugh. “I’m a jerk. We both know that, but you’re not. Don’t bring the fire department here.”
“Why? What’s the big deal? What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t need to be on their radar.”
“Why would this put you on their radar?”
“A teen accidentally locked in a library with his overnight bag?”
“You can say you were going to a friend’s after you studied. I would’ve had my overnight bag here too if I hadn’t put it in my friend’s car.”
“I have one more chance, okay?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to end up in a group home. If I get one more strike, that’s where I’m headed. I wouldn’t last a day in there. They have curfews and rules. I need my freedom.”
I folded my arms across my chest and let out a puff of air. “So why are you here? Really?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Does it matter?”
“Yes. It could be the difference between me pulling that alarm when you’re asleep or not.”
“You’re blackmailing me for information?”
“Let’s call it sharing between friends.”
He shook his head and a smile stole across his face. There was something very satisfying about a smile that had to be earned. It was gone as fast as it had appeared. “My stuff was on the porch. I was heading toward the canyon when it started to snow. That’s it. Will you leave the alarm alone now?”
“Wait . . . what? Your foster parents put your sleeping bag and duffel on the porch?” Was that why he really didn’t have a charger for his phone? Because he hadn’t packed his own bag? “Why did they do that?”