Chapter 34

I turned on a news radio station as soon as I woke up on Wednesday morning. I listened for stories about the library while I scrolled through my phone reading the local news. Oh. Stories. So many stories. Yes. Stories that carried photos of my signs. Stories that pointed to my signs as the reason the news was good, the reason the bond passed. Franklin was getting a new library. A big, expensive, modern, book-filled library.

We won.

I tweeted “Way to go, Franklin voters! Thanks for the new library. #SaveFranklinLibrary #Saved”

We won.

So why did I want to throw up?

Will knocked on the door with a take-out hot chocolate and a chocolate cake donut in his hand. He congratulated me on the bond passing, and then sat at the kitchen table with me, speed-talking about absolutely nothing while I pinched up tiny bites of the donut. I kept nodding. He kept talking. He never mentioned Mac. I never spoke at all.

After about fifteen minutes, he put his hand on my hand. I looked at his face. He wrapped his fingers around mine and squeezed. “Want me to stay? I can get a sub.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.”

“Which part?”

I breathed in and out a few times. “Every part. I’m going to tell her.”

He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I’m proud of you. You can handle today.”

I nodded. He was right. I could.

Entering the library, I looked for the marks on the lot from the burning barrel. It had only been two and a half days, but there was no remaining sign of the “protest.”

It was still a few minutes before ten. Julie hadn’t unlocked the front door yet. Inside, I stood on the patrons’ side of the circulation desk. I hadn’t stood there to ask a question in years. The whole desk arrangement looked small and shabby from this side.

“I need to talk to you.” There was no way Julie could have heard me. No sound even came out. But I did make the shapes of the words. “Julie?” I tried again. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Greta. What do you need?” She almost raised her head from the computer monitor in front of her.

“In your office, please?” I didn’t wait for her to say yes. Trudging behind the tables, I walked into her office and held the door open for her.

She didn’t say anything. She came in and sat on her desk, facing the chair I should have sat in. I stood, back against the closed door.

“I know what happened. I mean, everyone knows what happened, but I know how it happened. I know why. And it’s my fault.” Breathe, I reminded myself.

Still she didn’t speak. So I kept going. “The signs were my idea. I had them made. I put them up around town. I thought it would be . . .” Helpful? Funny? Effective? Useful? There was no good way to finish that sentence. I shifted my legs, which were tingling. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, the barrel thing, the burning thing? That was me, too. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. Well, I think maybe I did mean it, but I didn’t recognize how scary it would be. Maybe I could have stopped it, but I didn’t. It was legal, though. I got a permit to protest, just in case. And they weren’t really books.”

Her posture looked like she had turned to stone. I saw no emotion in her face at all.

“And I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

She looked at her fingers for a long time. Then she said, “I need you to go home now.”

“What?” I felt like all the air had been shoved out of me.

She looked at me again. “Thank you for telling me. You need to go now.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No.” Her voice was professional and emotionless. “No. Don’t come back until we contact you.”