The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (5 page)

"Mr. Marsh?"

Taylor turned to find Wesley standing in the doorway, blocking the teacher's path. She watched him hand the man a pink piece of paper cut into a small rectangle: an office pass.

"What's this?" Mr. Marsh grumbled.

"I'm supposed to bring her upstairs."

"She just got here. What's going on?"

"They don't tell me that," Wesley explained. He turned to look Taylor in the eye. "I think
her mom
is here."

With that Taylor understood no one had sent Wesley.

He was there on his own.

Mr. Marsh flapped a hand in her direction before heading out the door. "Looks like they want you back upstairs."

Taylor quickly collected her things before taking the long way around, navigating through the desks so that she wouldn't have to walk past Russ and his friend with their dueling cans of spit.

"What's going on?" she asked nervously.

Wesley didn't answer.

They cleared the doorway, and he led her down the hall where they started up the stairs together. He was wearing his backpack. Taylor thought it seemed to bulge more than usual, and there was something orange poking through the opened zipper.

"You're not an office aide," Taylor whispered.

"No kidding."

"And my mom is..." She couldn't say the word. "Why aren't you in math? Where'd you get that pass?"

"Stole it from the computer lab."

"
What?
"

Wesley fired her a cold look to let her know that her protest had been too loud.

"This isn't something you can fix, Wes." They were atop the staircase now, Wesley peeking around the corner. "It's like the whole world's gone crazy."

"You believe me now?" He flashed a crooked smile so Taylor knew she didn't have to answer.

"That's what I'm saying," Taylor said. "You can't just take me back to class."

"We're not going back to class." Wesley reached over his shoulder, grabbed the orange handles and slid Old Man Riley's bolt-cutters from his backpack. He started into the hallway. "We're bustin outta here."

"What are you gonna do with those?!"

"Randy rides his bike to school, right?"

Taylor grinned mischievously, finally catching on.

"Hey!" someone yelled. "You there!"

Both kids whipped around.

Old man Riley was barreling down the hallway toward them, a fist pumping in the air. "Stop! Bring those back, I said!"

"Oh, crap!" the kids yelled in perfect harmony.

Taylor and Wes bolted down the hall.

Ms. Easton came out of her classroom just ahead of them. "What's going on out here?"

"Stop them!"

Taylor slowed her pace when the teacher moved into their path, but Wesley put a hand on her back to keep Tay moving. They went rushing right by Ms. Easton before she had a chance to react.
 

Wesley laughed as they slid around the corner. "And you thought she was a bad influence on
me
!"

THE KIDS LED Riley on a zigzag course through the building before disappearing through a pair of double doors that spilled out onto the playground behind the school.

"Slow down!" Taylor gestured toward the bolt cutters. "You aren't even supposed to run with scissors!"

 
They marched toward a collection of bike racks near the playground and adjacent to the school's parking lot. There were three teachers standing in a circle just outside the playground's border, no doubt there to supervise the small army of elementary students playing nearby.

"Don't look at them," Wesley explained.

"I'm not."

"But don't act like you're
afraid
to look at them."

"Okay."

"Just... walk casual."

"Wes?"

"Yeah."

"Shut up."

They stopped just short of the small area where kids were allowed to park their bikes after riding them to school. There were six metal racks grouped together, each sitting parallel to its neighbor, about a dozen bikes parked between the bars on each.

"You know which one is his?"

"Of course," Wes answered dryly. "You know how many times he's tried to run me over with this thing?" His eyes moved to a black mountain bike with silver accents and thick tires on the last rack. "Idiot calls it the Black Mamba. What a joke."

Wesley let his backpack drop to the ground then stepped toward the bike with the bolt cutters raised. Taylor stole a glance toward the playground. The teachers were still talking amongst themselves. They hadn't noticed Taylor and Wes, and the younger kids were too busy to care.

Taylor spotted a small group of kids playing tug-o-war over a large sandbox. Boys against girls. The battle didn't last long. After a brief struggle, the girls yanked hard enough to pull all three boys face first into the sand. The boys staggered to their feet, laughing as they coaxed the girls into a race for the swings. Taylor smiled wistfully. She missed recess. Life was a lot simpler when she brought a lunchbox to school.

It took most of his strength – along with a helpful grunt – but the chain holding Randy's bike eventually broke with a loud snap. Wesley pulled the chain free with a flourish.

"So begins my life of crime!"

"Who
are
you?" Taylor giggled. But her nervous laughter quickly disappeared when something occurred to her. Like so much around her, Wesley had changed, too.

Two weeks ago Wesley had eaten lunch from a tray on his lap in a locked bathroom stall because Randy had tried making him eat pudding off the cafeteria floor. She didn't see that happening now. Wes seemed ready to take on the world.

And that's what scared her.

She and Wes were heading back to the library hoping they could make everything go back to normal. She wanted her syrup warmed. She wanted her papers back on the fridge. She wanted teachers to leave her in charge when they left the room like they normally did. Most of all, she wanted her dad back. Her
real
dad. She'd already lost one parent, now it seemed she'd lost another – only this time it was her fault.

But if she got those things, would Wesley go back to the way
he
had been before? Would he find himself back in that bathroom stall? She didn't think so, but she couldn't be sure.

Her thoughts drifted to the game of tug-o-war, only this time it wasn't boys against girls, it was right vs. wrong. She didn't know if leaving school with Wes was right or wrong, but she had a sneaky suspicion the choices would only get harder once they left.

Wesley had Randy's bike free of the rack. He threw one leg over the seat and readied the pedals for take off.

"Ready? Let's go."

She climbed onto the bike's pegs, two metal posts, one on either side of the rear tire, there to allow for an added passenger, even if it was standing room only.

Wesley labored to steady the bike and get it going before straightening the handlebars when momentum finally took over. He pedaled down the walk and over the curb.

"Hold on!"

Taylor tightened her grip on his skinny shoulders as they banked around the corner and into the parking lot. Wesley was the only part of her life that still felt right. He was the rock she could hold onto, but as they sped out of the parking lot and into the street, Taylor was beginning to wonder if eventually she would have to let this new Wesley Bates go.

AN HOUR LATER, Wesley was pounding on the library's wooden doors before yanking on their brass handles in frustration. The door barely gave an inch and rattled in its frame, clearly locked from the other side. He kicked the door angrily as Taylor walked through the grass to peer through one of the building's windows.

"Well?" Wesley asked.

"I can't see a thing."

"Great! Who's closed at eleven o'clock in the morning?"

"Maybe they've closed for good."

Taylor pointed into the parking lot where several workmen in orange vests were milling about alongside construction equipment and several large dumpsters. Wesley's eyes moved straight for the tall crane with a wrecking ball hooked to its chain.

"Why are they here? That's still a couple months away."

Wesley started around the corner, careful as he stepped through a flowerbed that bordered the building.

"Let's try around back."

Taylor was reluctant but followed all the same. This was starting to feel a lot like trespassing to her. When she found Wesley crouched near a bush trying to pry open a skinny basement window, it felt like something even worse: breaking-and-entering.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" Wesley answered. "We can't let one locked door stop us. Besides," he came to his feet when the window wouldn't budge, "getting in will probably be the easy part."

Taylor watched Wesley size things up, his eyes gleaming when they landed on one of the large stones at the base of a tree just a few feet away.

"Wes? No."

"Pretty soon this place won't even be here." He knelt beneath the tree, rocked the heavy stone onto its side then struggled to lift it. "Think of this as... early demolition."

"Swiping Randy's bike was one thing," Taylor reasoned. "Actually, that was kinda fun. But this? They've already called the police on us once this week."

"What else we gonna do?"

Taylor let her gaze fall, the corner of her lip curling into a small frown. "It's just not right."

"Sometimes we have to do things that aren't right, Tay." His tone was soft yet somehow stern, the manner parents often taken when trying to make a point with their children. "How many times have we been told to keep our hands to ourselves? A million? Didn't stop you from doing a little dance when I belted Randy, did it?"

"That was different."

"So is this."

Taylor looked away.

Those kids were playing tug-o-war again.

"Fine," she said. "Just not one of the stained glass windows. They look expensive and old and... too pretty to break."

Wesley'd been fighting the rock with both hands, a struggle that left the front of his shirt covered in mud. He lifted the stone, his tiny wrist wavering beneath its weight, then sent it crashing through the glass and into the dark room on the other side. A crooked grin cropped up on his face as he moved to inspect his work, eyes fixed on the jagged glass that remained in the window's frame.

"Careful," Taylor reminded.

Wesley hurried to a nearby tree, broke off a low hanging branch and used the heavy stick to break the remaining glass from the frame. "There," he said. "Happy?"

"What if someone heard?"

"Then they should have answered the door."

"Okay," Taylor smirked. "Here, I'll lower you down."

A tinge of worry showed on Wesley's face. "But I thought—"

"I'm still stronger than you, kid. You couldn't hold me if you tried."

Taylor saw hurt in Wesley's eyes and worried she may have gone too far. But Wesley's dismay quickly gave way to an infectious snort. A moment later, they were laughing together.

"Maybe if you laid off the donuts," Wesley joked.

Taylor feigned shock and playfully smacked him across the arm with the back of her hand. "Whatever! Jerk!"

Wesley went down on all-fours then sent his legs through the window, a move that left the entire lower half of his body dangling above the basement floor.

"Can you touch?"

"Not yet," Wesley said. "Give me your hands."

Taylor sat down in front of him and braced her feet against the building's stone exterior before extending both hands for Wesley to take. He took her left first, using his right hand to keep balance so he wouldn't fall. Once he had a firm grip, he lunged forward and grabbed the other hand.

"Dang," she whined. "
I
should lay off the donuts?"

"Shut up and lower me down."

Taylor's face was already turning red as she toiled to hold Wesley in place. She shifted her feet on the wall and straightened her knees, hoping better footing would be enough to ease her efforts. Once anchored, she slowly bent forward at the waist, lowering Wesley through the window toward the—

His body lurched away from her, and Taylor nearly tumbled through the window after him.

"What the heck, Wesley?!"

Wesley's eyes went wide as he struggled to look back into the darkness. "Something—"

His body jerked down on her again. This time Taylor's knees buckled, and Wesley slid farther into the darkness below. His breathing quickened, tiny gasps coming in short bursts one right after another.

"Pull me up!"

"I got you! Just—"

"SOMETHING'S DOWN THERE! PULL ME UP!"

Taylor tightened her grip, pushing out against the building with her legs, straining as she used every ounce of her strength to pull Wesley up again.

But she lost ground.

Too much of his weight was beneath the window.

She couldn't lift him.

Something below pulled on Wesley again.

"Don't let go!" Taylor yelled. "Don't—"

His grip slipped so that they were no longer holding onto one another's wrists. Instead, they were palm-to-palm, fingers slipping the more they squeezed.

"Hold on, Wes! Just—"

There was one final jerk, and Wesley's hands slipped from hers. He disappeared in a flash.

"Wesley!"

She jumped to her feet, looking for help. A rock. A limb. A shovel leaning against the building. Anything that might serve as a weapon against whatever was waiting for them in the library's basement.

But there was nothing.

She stepped away from the window and drew a deep breath.

"Dang it! Dang it! Dang it!"

Taylor sprang forward, fell to the ground and slid through the grass like a ballplayer sliding into home. She closed her eyes as her feet went through the window, unsure what was waiting in the darkness below, scared to death as she left the outside world and began to fall.

RANDY STUMBLED OVER a jagged stone jutting out of the rocky cliff that he and his father were walking along.