Read Online The Lake and the Library by S. M. Beiko - Free Book Online

the pictures safely in my bag, I turned to see that Li had adopted his never-ending stare tactic again, blinking and expectant, eyes boring deep into me like twin mining drills. I pushed a stray bit of hair behind my ear, trying to ignore how my face was getting hot, and looked down.
    â€œLook, I . . . I’m really grateful for yesterday, you know. You were gone before I could
really
thank you, so I’m glad you’re here again and that I could say thank you properly . . . even though you’re sort of a scary kleptomaniac, but I don’t mind, really, there are weirder things to be . . . but yeah, I just wanted to say thanks, and I’m also glad you’re here, because there are a few things that have been bugging me about this place, about yesterday, the whole thing with my hand . . . and how you got in here, too—”
    When I looked back up he was closer than before, still staring, and I reflexively nudged him on the shoulder to get the message across; if he moved any closer I’d be impaled on his angled nose.
    â€œYou’ve gotta stop that,” I said, standing my ground. “You don’t have to keep staring. If there’s something you wanna say, just say it.”
    Parting his hair from his eyes, Li looked away, ashamed, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. I waited for him to say something, anything, and just as I was about to lay into him for ignoring me, for playing this terrible game with me that wasn’t funny anymore, I saw what little colour he had was draining from his cheeks. He put a slender-fingered hand around his neck, looked me straight in the eye, and shook his head. A breath hissed and caught in my throat as it thickened.
    â€œOh,” I said, sounding just as dumb as I felt. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I just thought you . . . I don’t know
what
I thought, I guess.”
Mute-button eternal. Maybe
you
should practice that every once in a while, Ash . . .
    Li waved his hands, trying to make it seem like it really wasn’t that big a deal. He patted me on the shoulder, reached over, and picked up half of my pile so he could have a good look, too. We sat in the musty quiet, all the hundreds of questions I had suddenly seeming pretty mediocre and small. I felt like I had no right to talk, worried and embarrassed that it would make Li feel bad. He nudged me in the ribs, probably sensing this, trying to get me to lighten up. I scooped up a Polaroid.
    â€œThis one’s my favourite so far,” I said, handing over a close-up of the deer clock. “I wish you hadn’t wasted all that film. I don’t have a proper one of you, but hundreds of me.”
    He made a noise like
tsk,
rolling his eyes. The pictures were my proof. Maybe I needed proof that he was real, too. At least today he looked more apt to play, happier, lit up from the inside, even. My mind kept flashing between the relaxed smile of now to the drawn and worried grimace of then. Was he here hiding from something? Or someone . . .
    Tabitha
. I fumbled through my bag for my cell, checking the time. Two missed alerts.
Damn, I was supposed to be over there half an hour ago
.
    â€œOh, God, sorry. I have to go.” I scrambled to my feet. The library was meant to be my apology card, and all the proof of it, too. It had been my bright idea to document everything I could, then flash it at her as a means of bandaging over our sour parting yesterday. But as soon as I had slipped in here, my intentions fell away behind me.
    Li got up just as fast, and as I was shouldering my bag and making my way to go, he was in my path. “I really have to go,” I tried, ducking around him. I couldn’t play with him forever, even though, I thought suddenly, I’d like to.
    He grabbed me by the bag but I yanked free, serving him a triumphant raspberry as I bounded off.
    â€œYou’re holding me up, crazy boy,” I shouted, words ricocheting here and there off shelves