The Secret Songs of D.C. Silverenn

| 8

Ten minutes later, Emi and I hop out of the car in the library's parking lot. Emi's sedan is one of three cars waiting outside.

"Not much activity for a Sunday afternoon," Emi comments.

"Who would go to the library on a Sunday?" I say, incredulous. I must've sounded stronger than I intended because Emi recoils, shrugging.

"I mean, I did when I was in school."

"Oh."

Emi hurries inside while I trail after her, slightly bewildered. I shake off the interaction once inside, focusing instead on the rows upon rows of bookshelves. A librarian sits at the front desk, and tables and chairs are set up among the bookshelves. A mother reads to her daughter quietly at one while her son races between shelves. Emi sits at one of the tables, and I sit across from her.

"So... what's the plan?" Emi sighs.

I peer down at my phone, which has a picture of the clue sheet. I figured walking into a library with a giant folio of scores might seem a little strange.

"The next part of the clue says that we need to walk 'the coda left' into some room."

"How does one walk a coda?" Emi shakes her head. Her mouth stretches in a yawn.

I think for a moment. "Remember when we were in school, and our music theory professor had that exam where we had to walk one rhythm while clapping another one?"

"Oh gosh. Don't remind me."

"Maybe we're supposed to do that." I swipe to the next image on my phone, which displays the coda. "But in the end, I don't see how waiting a certain amount of time between each step will change the room we end up in."

"The number of notes in the coda could be the number of steps to the room. But where do we start?"

I peer around, taking in the room. There's more open space by the entrance and the librarian's desk before the bookshelves crowd the area in the middle and on the sides. Two aisles lead to hallways on the left and right. I crane my neck to see a few doors lining the sides of both halls.

"I think starting from the front entrance and walking to the left is a logical first step." My lips upturn at my bad joke. Emi just rolls her eyes.

"Okay."

Quickly, I count the notes in the coda. "There's forty-two steps."

Emi pushes herself up to standing. "Let's just get this over with."

We walk back to the library's doors. As we pass, the librarian glances up from her book, eyebrows raised. I try to ignore her, like what we're about to do is totally normal.

"How large should our steps be?" Emi whispers.

I shrug. "I don't know, normal?"

Emi rolls her eyes. Together, we start forward, and our steps somehow lock into each other's. I count in my head: one, two, three, four...

Both the woman reading to the children and the librarian look up, curiosity written on their faces. In my peripheral, I notice that a blush tints Emi's cheeks. I focus on the steps opposed to the embarrassment threatening to close in. If I were better dressed, not in a t-shirt and jeans, I might be able to pretend I'm a supermodel walking down a runway. Or maybe not. Similar to my clothes, I'm not high-fashion industry material.

At twenty-three steps, we made it to the hallway. Several doors pass on either side, some conference rooms, others containing more bookshelves.

Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Thirty-five...