In addition to my heart beating fast, my lungs felt very swampy.

I bent over and put my hands on my knees and breathed deep. I looked around the office. It was filled with books. They were piled up on the desk and on the floor. The walls were lined with shelves and the shelves were jammed tight with books.

My goodness, it was a lot of books.

Whoever Reverend Frank Obertask was, he certainly believed in the power of the written word. And that was fine by me, because I believe in the power of the written word, too. For instance, I believe in these words I am writing, because they are the truth of what happened to me.

I considered the power of the written word while I breathed deep and got my lungs calmed down, and then I stood up straight and stepped over to the desk and picked up the phone, and there was a dial tone.

Everything was going exactly right.

But there was one small obstacle.

The one small obstacle was that I did not know Raymie’s phone number.

Or Beverly’s.

I did not know their numbers because I had never called them.

Granny did not believe in having a phone in the house.

She said it was just one more way for the authorities to keep tabs on us. “What do we need a phone for, my darling? The general populace does not need to know our whereabouts, and those who love us can always find us.”

That is what Granny said.

But it’s not true, is it?

Those who love us can’t always find us, can they? Or else I would not be writing these words.

There are always and forever obstacles placed in our path.

But I had a plan to overcome at least one obstacle! I was going to request operator assistance.

I picked up the phone and dialed, and a woman came on the line immediately and said, “Directory assistance. What city, please?”

“Lister, Florida!” I shouted the words. I felt like I was on an important game show and that I had to answer very quickly and exactly right.

“Name?”

“Raymie Clarke, and there is an e on the end of Clarke!”

There was a long moment of silence.

“There are five listings for Clarke. None of them is Raymie. Would you like to try another name?”

“Yes!” I shouted.

“What other name, please?”

“Beverly Tapinski!”

“Please spell the last name,” said the operator.

I spelled it, and then there was a long, sad silence.

The operator cleared her throat. She said, “I am sorry, dear, but there are no Tapinskis in Lister, Florida.”

“Yes, there are,” I said.

“Well, perhaps there are,” said the operator. “But there are no listings for Tapinskis.”

“But they exist. Beverly Tapinski and Raymie Clarke both exist. What do I do now?”

“Regarding what?” said the operator.

“Regarding me not knowing who to call,” I said.

“This is directory assistance,” said the operator.

“I know that,” I said. I stamped my foot. “But I don’t know what to do. You should assist me and tell me what to do.”

“Honey,” said the operator, “it will all be fine.”

And then there was a click and she was gone.

I hung up the phone. I bent over and put my hands on my knees and worked to get air into my lungs.

I thought, It will not all be fine.

I thought, I am alone in the world, and I will have to find some way to rescue myself.