When Trouble Meets Trouble

[ P r o l o g u e ]

Prologue (Savannah's Point Of View.)

“I’m heading off to the library,” I called out to my mother. She looked shocked that I even knew what a library was. Gee, thanks mom.

“You’re going to the library? You mean the place with books?” she questioned, her eyebrows rising slightly. I let out a chuckle before nodding.

“Yes, Mom. That’s the one; I need a book for a report. If I don’t get it, I’m definitely failing,” I replied.

“Okay, well, have fun," my mother snorted. The amusement was clear on her face. Her dark brown hair, something I inherited, was tied back into a messy bun and she had on a large t-shirt and sweatpants.

I waved at her before getting into my car, a black Jeep Grand Cherokee that I worked so hard for. My parents had chipped in for it, too but I managed to get my half of it. It was way better than sharing a car with my older brother Jeremiah.

Speaking of the idiot, we had gotten into a fight this morning. I scowled at the memory before pulling into the parking lot of the library. It was empty aside from a few cars. Whistling and twirling my keys around my index finger, I walked over to the entrance, opening the door and allowing the warm air to fan over me as I walked to the counter.

“I’m Beverly, how may I help you?” a blonde girl squealed. I smiled at her, automatically sensing that she was one of those girls that is too nice for her own good. Not because she's blonde, but because she seems like she cares about other people's opinions more than she does about her own I bet more people walk all over her than they do to the library’s welcome mat. That's sad, really.

“I’m just looking for a book on Adolf Hitler," I casually spoke, leaning on the counter. She clacked away on the keyboard, scanning the computer screen.

I adjusted my glasses on my nose. Don’t let my appearance fool you; I am no nerd, if that’s what you’re assuming. Unfortunately, in 8th grade, I spent so much time playing video games that my vision went to crap and I was prescribed glasses. There is no way I’m sticking a contact on my finger and stabbing myself in the eye with it. Besides, I have really sensitive eyes and they water a lot. My finger won't even reach my eye and I'm blinking and my eye is creating it's own Niagra Falls.

“It’s in the fourth row, on the second shelf," she smiled cheerfully as she pointed in the direction of the shelf. I nodded, muttering a ‘thank you’ as I shuffled across the tiled floor.

The library was nice and I don’t know why I don’t spend more time here. Ha, who am I kidding? Sure, the library’s nice, but I’m not one to spend my time with my face buried in a book. I’d rather be at home, playing video games or sitting on my bed with my laptop placed on my lap. Or at the mall, watching hot guys shop and laugh with their friends. Or even out somewhere, maybe with my family, or my friend Meredith.

I looked up and noticed that the ceiling was high and that the library had a second floor, or at least a wraparound balcony with glass windows and couches for you to read on, I’m guessing. I noticed a sign for Free Wi-Fi and I raised an eyebrow with a slow nod. Maybe I could spend my time here.

When I reached the fourth row, I heard the door opening. Or at least I think it was the door, this was my first or second time being in the library for my whole 16, soon to be 17, years of being alive. 

“I’m Beverly, how may I help you?” the lady at the front desk's voice echoed throughout the lonely library. Yeah, I was right. That was the door. Someone else was here. It was probably an old lady coming to return a book that she’d checked out in 1975. Instead of an old, fragile voice responding, it was a guy’s. He didn’t sound too old; it didn’t have that wise ring to it.