“Yeah.”
It took another half hour to get Naomi to tell me what happened: She’d taken the bus back from school and was doing her homework when a woman had knocked on the door. Aunt Ella was still at work and had told the kids not to answer if she wasn’t home. But the woman knocked harder and wouldn’t go away. When Naomi answered, the woman said she was a neighbor, wanted to check in to make sure an adult was in the house. When she found out it was just Naomi and the older boys, they had gotten upset with her. Naomi was shaken by it. She didn’t understand what she’d done wrong, and the woman had scared her.
“But it’s okay now,” Naomi said.
“Why didn’t you tell Aunt Ella?”
“Bryan said not to.” Bryan was the older of Ella’s boys.
I took a deep breath. It was impossible to get through to her over the phone. It would be better if we were together; I could hold her hand, look her in the eye, tell her it’s okay. But really, I didn’t know if it was okay—if the neighbor called CPS, Naomi could end up in the system, and there was no telling what would happen to her then. I could hear her muffled crying, and it was like a knife through my chest.
With new determination, I returned to my reading. Twelve thousand dollars wasn’t enough for an apartment, food, and healthcare. I needed to find a way to make more.
Several hours later, I put my head down on my arms and drifted off.
—
I woke witha start to a rattling sound. the window next to me was open, shutters banging in the wind. Lifting my head from my arms, I slowly blinked awake.Where am I?Mahogany shelves filled with books, a cavernous space. The library. Sterling Club’s library. I pulled my jacket over my shoulders.It’s freezing in here.That’s when I noticed I wasn’t alone.
I jolted upright. A dark figure was standing in the doorway.
“You fell asleep.” I recognized Marta’s voice. She stood illuminated in the doorway, next to a bucket and mop.
“Yeah, s-sorry,” I stuttered. “I don’t know what happened.”
I scrambled to pick up my books and shoved them one by one into my book bag. Marta didn’t move from where she was standing, watching me.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, swallowing the knot in my throat. I remembered how Cecily had snapped at her when we were getting ready for Winter Formal. Since then, I’d noticed other members either ignoring her or being rude, acting like she was their mother, there to pick up after them. I didn’t like it, so I’d gone out of my way to be kind to her.
She blinked once and took a step forward into the library. The look on her face was usually cold and unemotional, but today therewas something different about it. “Mr. DuPont is away for business…I was cleaning his office and found this.” She held up a tiny gold earring. I was pretty sure it was Lila’s.
“I think I know whose that is—I can give it back to her.” I stood slowly and walked over to her to take the earring. I glanced at the clock.Two-fifteena.m.? Oh god.“I should get going. It’s late—”
“Wait.” Marta looked panicked. “You’re friends with this girl, yes? The girl with the red hair?”
I nodded slowly, wondering what Marta knew.
She stepped closer, lowered her voice. “I’ve worked here many years, many many years…and I know what goes on with him.” Her eyes narrowed. “But this is the worst I’ve seen.”
Lila must have been in some sort of trouble with Professor DuPont…“You may want to warn her to stay away,” she continued. “If it’s not already too late.”
Her words sent a shiver through me. I remembered the bruise on Lila’s temple the night I ran into her outside the library. How I’d caught them together in his office and suspected Professor DuPont and Lila were having an affair. I’d thought they were sleeping together; I didn’t think he washurtingher. But then again, how well did I really know this man?
And that was what Marta was implying, wasn’t it? If things weren’t going well between them, what was I supposed to do? Was it my place to bring it up?
It was the first time I realized that Professor DuPont might have been abusive. Violent. And yet, everything in me wanted to dismiss what Marta had told me as hearsay. It didn’t mesh with the image I had of Professor DuPont. She must’ve been mistaken. “I’ll talk to her,” I said.
Marta turned to leave, but when she reached the door she looked back. “In all my years working here, I have never forgotten to lock a door to an office…I would be fired if I did.” The way she said this and the way she was looking at me were weighted with meaning.
—
The door toProfessor DuPont’s office was unlocked, as Marta had implied.
As I carefully approached his desk, my heart was beating so hard, it could have broken my chest.Did he have cameras in here?I didn’t see any, but it always felt like he was watching.
Careful not to disturb his neat stacks of papers, I opened the top drawer and pulled out a notepad where he had scribbled a list of items:
- Dry cleaning
