The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (2 page)

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

A classic loved the world over.

Her mother's copy.

Only it wasn't her mother's copy. Not anymore. It wasn't a classic either. She and Wesley had made sure of that. If the Wicked Witch standing triumphantly on the book's faded cover wasn't evidence enough, the altered story within the book's pages would do. Together, Taylor and Wes had gone on the greatest field trip of all time, and in the process, managed to turn a world of magic and hope into a nightmare.

Taylor leapt from her bed, grabbing the book and tossing it across the room with a quiet scream. She was back in bed just as quickly, pulling the sheet over her head and closing her eyes.

An hour later, when she finally had the courage to look once more, she saw the book had landed with its cover facing the bed. If she couldn't bring herself to walk across the room and move it again, the Wicked Witch would be there all night, waiting, watching her sleep, watching her every move.

PART ONE

AFTER SEARCHING MOST of the house, Rhonda Bates found her son in the last place she expected. "What are you doing in here?" she huffed. "You're supposed to be getting ready for school."

Wesley was on his knees in the hall closet, both feet tucked beneath his backside as he dug through a plastic storage bin, old CDs and DVDs scattered in tall piles all around him.

"I
am
ready," he said matter-of-factly.

"Have you eaten?"

He didn't respond.

"Let's go. I'll pour you a bowl before I leave."

Wesley followed his mom down the stairs and into the kitchen where Wesley's little brother was sitting in a highchair near the table in the kitchen's breakfast nook. He was holding a blue bowl in one hand, a plastic spoon in the other. Tiny O's of cereal were floating in a pool of milk he'd dumped onto the tray in front of him.

"Danny!" Rhonda cried. "I don't have time for this!" She shot a look over her shoulder at Wes. "I hope you know you're cleaning that up."

"What?" Wesley whined. "He's your baby!"

She rolled her eyes. "Not that. Upstairs." She pulled some paper towels from the roll hanging over the kitchen sink then balled them up in her hand. "What were you doing up there anyway?"

"Oh," Wesley began. "That... I just... I need a movie for school." It wasn't the biggest lie in the world. He
did
plan on shoving the DVD into his backpack once he found it. He
did
plan on taking it to school.

"What movie?"

"The Wizard of Oz," Wesley said tentatively. It sounded like he wasn't quite sure.

His mom began wiping Danny's spilled cereal back into its bowl. "Do we have that?"

"You got me the box set for Christmas. Remember?"

"Wes, you've got so many movies, sometimes it's a little hard to keep track."

Wesley furrowed his brow.

It's The Wizard of Oz
, he thought.
Who forgets that?

"So are you still upset about last night?"

Wesley wasn't ready for the conversation to shift but wasn't about to push his luck. It had been a tricky twenty-four hours. It's not every day your parents get a call from the police because their son's gone missing.

"Not really. You?"

Rhonda shook her head. "You wouldn't believe the things that were running through my head. I was sure you were trapped in some crazy pervert's basement. Next time this happens—"

"It won't," Wesley insisted.

"Good." His mother took a moment to think about the words to come. "Now," she began, "about that other thing." Rhonda made sure she had Wesley's full attention before she continued. "I know she's your friend, but I think it's time you start building some friendships with other kids."

"Wait," Wesley said. "You were serious about that?"

On their way home from the library, Rhonda had told Wesley he wasn't to hang out with Taylor Williams anymore. He'd been certain it was nothing more than a scared parent blowing off steam. Now, though...

"It was great having Taylor next door when we moved in, but it's been nine months. It's time to move on."

"Why?"

Rhonda blew out a frustrated sigh. "You know why."

But he didn't. His mother had never uttered a cross word about Tay. Not once. Now she was forbidding him to spend time with the girl because they'd gotten into trouble one time. It didn't make any sense.

"I know it doesn't seem fair," she explained. "I get it. But it's not like you'll never see her again. You'll still see her on the bus and in school. You just need to branch out and find some kids who are... more like you."

What the heck does
that
mean?
he thought.

Rhonda kissed him gently on the forehead and started out of the room. "Will you keep an eye on Danny until your dad gets out of his shower?"

"Sure. But mom?"

"Yeah?"

"You've
seen
Wizard of Oz, right?"

She stopped just shy of the doorway and shook her head. "Wes? I don't know. I—"

"It's for school." It was definitely a lie, but it was a lie that had grown in importance since he'd first told it. Wes had a wild theory about his trip into Oz with Tay – that maybe their actions in Oz had had consequences that stretched beyond the printed page. Last night, it had been a thought so crazy he couldn't even share it with Taylor. But, this morning, the evidence was starting to pile up.

"Maybe," she finally answered. "What's it about?"

"You know? Dorothy? Toto? Follow the yellow brick road?"

"Doesn't ring a bell." She turned to go. "Maybe we can watch it tonight. Unless Ms. Easton calls again. That happens and you better just disappear for good." She laughed as she left. "Love you, sweetheart. Have a good day." Somehow, Wesley already knew that wasn't going to happen.

Wes looked over at his brother. "Dan the Man, I think this may be even worse than I thought."

TAYLOR STOOD ATOP the staircase and sniffed the air. The smell of something sweet and smoky was wafting through the house.

Pancakes
, she thought quietly to herself.
Maybe he's not as mad as I thought.

The dream was still weighing on her. She hadn't slept well. She was tired, and her mood was dark. But maybe her dad could do something about that. He hadn't said a word since picking her up from the library, but at least he wasn't going to send her to school without breakfast. That was a good sign. Plus, her dad had a way of saying things that made her laugh when she needed it most. If anyone could help her forget everything that had happened since her trip into Oz with Wesley, it was him.

She put on a happy face and hurried down the steps, hopping off the third and skipping the last two. From there it was down the hall, around the corner and into the kitchen where she found her father stacking dishes in the sink.

Tay did her best to treat it like any ordinary day.
 
"Morning," she said, faking a yawn and stretching like she'd just crawled out of bed.

"Food's getting cold. Why don't you grab a plate?"

"I can't," Taylor answered. "I already brushed. See?" She bared her teeth in a cartoonish grin. She was hoping the goofy smile might get a rise out of her dad and left it hanging in the air like the toothy grin on Wonderland's Cheshire Cat. Unfortunately, when he finally turned to greet her, he barely acknowledged the smile at all.
 

"I guess you'll have to brush them again," he said coldly. "Sit down."

Taylor trudged across the kitchen, took a plate from the cabinet and slumped down in a chair at the table. She'd been right. There were pancakes waiting. Butter, syrup and a small bowl of berries, too. It was the usual spread alongside a gallon of milk and a bottle of juice. It was only after she began to dig in that she noticed a few things were just a little... off.

Her dad bought stick butter. Swore by the stuff. Karen had turned him onto it shortly after they met, and now he refused to buy anything else. But this morning's butter came in a red-and-white tub with the grocery store's logo emblazoned across its side. It was no big deal. For Taylor, butter was butter. She never understood why her dad insisted on the expensive stuff. The store brand was just as good. It was just... different.

But then, there was the syrup.

Taylor was used to pouring the sugary-sweet nectar from a glass pitcher her father had warmed in the microwave. It was a quick ritual that was usually enough to get their day off right. But this morning there was no glass pitcher, and the syrup was just as different as the butter. This new stuff came in a plastic jug and tasted bitter on her lips. Even worse, it left a gritty film on her teeth that she couldn't clean off no matter how many times she swiped them with her tongue. Not that Taylor was going to complain. Not today, at least. Tay was beginning to suspect she was still in trouble. She wasn't going to risk digging the hole even deeper. She'd eat just about anything her dad put in front of her. She shoveled a big bite of dry pancake into her mouth and chased it with a piece of bacon before finally deciding to test the waters and see just how much trouble she was in.

"Oh," Taylor began, "I'm probably gonna stop by Wesley's after school. Is that okay?" Her father stopped washing to listen. His shoulder slumped into a frown. "I know it usually wouldn't be a very big deal, but after last night—"

"After last night the Bates don't want you to spend any more time with their son."

Taylor's jaw went slack. "
What?
"

Her father turned to face Taylor, balling up his soiled dishtowel and tossing it onto the counter. "They called late last night. After you'd gone to bed. Rhonda asked that I make sure you don't spend nearly as much time with Wes as you have been."

"What did you say?"
Her tone demanded an answer. She wasn't worried about the hole she was digging anymore.

"What did you
want
me to say, Taylor?" He leaned back against the counter. Taylor saw he was wearing the blue overalls he'd worn to the library. Normally clean and perfectly pressed, today they were wrinkled like they'd spent the night on the floor next to his bed. She moved her gaze to meet his once more. His face was long and unshaven, his eyes tired.

Again, things were...

Off.

"I'm sure this will blow over," her father continued. "You'll just have to give it some time. For now, just give Wes a little space."

"But that's crazy! Mrs. Bates loves—"

"Your teacher called the police!" She winced at the tone of his voice. It was eerily similar to the timbre her mother's voice had taken in her dream. "Is it really that hard to believe there might be repercussions this time?"

"What do you mean
this time
? Did Wesley say something to her? Why's she assume this was
my
fault?"

 
He looked at her sideways. Taylor suddenly understood Wesley's mom wasn't the only one who blamed her for what happened.

"Wesley's a good kid," he explained. "He's never in trouble. He's on the honor roll. He's—"

"I'm on the..." Her words trailed off. She was poised to point out all the "A" papers hanging on their refrigerator door as proof that she and Wesley were one and the same. But when she looked at the fridge all she found were a few letter-shaped magnets there to hold her dad's notes and bills in place. Her school papers – papers that had been there yesterday, papers that had always been there – were gone.

Off.

Only
off
was no longer the word.

Something was
wrong
.

"What?" her father asked. "The honor roll?" he scoffed. "I don't think we get to call you an honor student just because you made straight A's in the first grade. That ship may have sailed, baby girl." He saw her eyes were swimming in tears and let out a quiet sigh.

Thank god
, she thought. The worst was over. He would sit down beside her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder and—

He turned to finish the dishes.

Taylor couldn't believe it. She was beginning to wonder if she was actually awake or if this was all part of some nightmare that was never going to end.

"Dad?" She wiped away her tears before they fell.

"Yeah?"

"Can we get the stick butter next time?"

He exhaled a quiet groan. "I guess, Taylor."

"I know it's expensive, but it reminds me of mom."

"Me too."

"Do you miss her?"

"Of course," he said. "Especially now. She was always better at this stuff than me. Truth is, girl, I just don't know what to do with you anymore."

That was finally too much. Taylor pushed away from the table. Her chair fell, and she stumbled over it as she ran out of the kitchen, a quiet sob building within her as she went.

Her dad didn't follow.

WESLEY WAS ALREADY waiting on the corner when Taylor came out of her house and onto the porch. It was an unexpected yet welcomed surprise. Typically, Wes waited to see the bus turn the corner into their neighborhood before leaving his house. It was one of those little tricks he'd learned since his move to Astoria. The less time he spent alone on the corner, the less likely he was to have an ugly run-in with a bully like Randy Stanford.

"Wow!" It was all he could think to say once she was done telling him about her rocky morning. "I knew my mom was mad, but—"

"You knew? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think she was serious! She was upset. Parents say crazy stuff all the time, right?"

"You have no idea."

Wesley shifted the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder. "How weird was he acting? Scale of one to ten."

"A million?" she sighed. "It wasn't just him. It was everything. His clothes, his face... breakfast. He's so mad at me he took my papers off the fridge.
Who does that?
"

Wesley stepped toward her, close enough that Taylor could bury her face in the nook of his shoulder if she wanted to. She was surprised by just how much she did.