11. Hannah

ELEVEN

HANNAH

Note to self: don't listen to any more of Mom's ghost stories.

It's not that the library is scary. It's just that, well, it's a little scary.

With the high rows of shelves… the limited sightlines… the quiet… it feels like another realm sometimes.

I look over my shoulder.

The feeling of being watched crawls over my skin as my heart skips a beat, but it's just nerves after seeing him here.

Slowing, I peek at the books on the cart to verify the number on the spines.

The carts are stacked to match the floors. The books for the top floor on the top rack of the cart, and so on and so forth.

I change my grip on the cart and pull it to a stop at the third row from the end, then grab the two books that need to get put away here.

In the silence, I try to listen for any signs of someone approaching, but there's nothing.

Quit being a baby.

Putting all thoughts of ghosts and football players out of my mind, I focus on the shelves and slide the first book into its spot. When I reach up to put the second book away, my pocket crinkles, and I remember the granola bar.

I quickly shove the book into place, then pull the package out of my pants pocket.

"Well, crap." Through the wrapper, I can tell the crunchy bars inside have broken in half.

These really are the worst of all the granola bars. I don't know why I even got it.

Then my stomach grumbles.

Right. I got it because I missed lunch.

I eye the cart at the end of the aisle, then the granola bar.

My shift has barely started, but no one will know if I take a little break to eat. And maybe, as a side effect, the lingering adrenaline I've had since smashing my face against Mad Dog will finally go away.

Leaving the cart where it is, I exit out the other side of the aisle, turn toward the back corner with the chairs, and nearly have a heart attack.