Chapter 2: Lending Library

I crumple up the suicide note. Whether fake or serious, I need to find out who 'J. D' is. This person, whoever they are, is a mystery. The note feels warm as if it were just placed within the Lending Library.

It must be my mind playing tricks on me. It couldn't have just been placed within the library. And why are all the books missing today? I can usually count on two books being on the shelf.

I place The History of Pirates novel on the shelf of the library and shut the doors. The crumpled-up note finds its way into my pool bag.

"Lily, you came back early. And you're soaking wet. We need to get you a bathing suit. Want to get one later this weekend."

Mother, sweet Mother, how I wish you knew I had no friends and that I'm a freak. But you don't. There's no point in mentioning the KAT trio and their bullying. If I can't handle them this year, how the hell will I handle being on my own when college rolls around the corner next fall?

"Actually, mom. I fell in. I'm a klutz. You know what? I'm going to change into my sweats. I ruined my copy of The Kissing Booth. Can I have yours?"

Mom comes over and begins her school nurse check on me. My mother used to work at a daycare, and it shows. It's in her DNA to check for bruises and to write 'ouch reports.'

"Mom...I'm fine. Can I have your copy of The Kissing Booth or not?"

"Oh, sure, honey. I'm not too fond of that book anyway. You can have mine. Are you sure you don't want a bathing suit?" Mom asks, double-checking.

"The pool closes in two weeks. I'm good. We can go next spring together, okay?"

Mom nods her head and pours herself a large glass of lemonade.

"Want any? I just made it before you got in."

"Sure, thanks, mom. I was wondering if we have any books lying around the house."

I head into the family room and start checking our vast collection of literature. I scan the books up and down. The books aren't alphabetized. There is no method to the madness. The books are scattered sideways, forward, backward, and upside down. I've tried convincing my dad to go digital and get eBooks. But he won't. He's proud of his library. And I can't blame him.

"What do you need books for?" Mom asks, trying to help me.

"The Lending Library has nothing on its shelves. So, I thought we could help. Can I take these Narnia books? Do we really need three sets?"

"No, of course, we don't. Feel free to take any double copies you find. Just make sure nothing is signed by the author. Your dad would have a heart attack."

Nothing like good old dad worrying about his precious book collection. My parents have eighteen bookshelves, overflowing from top to bottom with unread books. Books donated to them or purchased at yard sales, and some books bought from local bookstores. Books are like rabbits in this house. They multiply by the thousands.

My life has always been about novels and stories. I grew up admiring women wearing glasses. They looked put together and brilliant. So, I decided to become one. I am a nerd through and through. My all-time favorite Disney princess is Belle. Like me, she also reads books and loves libraries. If she were honest, we'd be friends. But alas, she isn't, and I don't...have friends. Sometimes I wish I did, but I know they would hold me back with sleepovers and parties. I'm much too clever a girl for all of that.

"Of course, mom. No signed books. Noted."

I blow the dust off several bookshelves. The dust burns my eyes and makes me cough. Why do we have so many novels? I find my parent's old love letters gross. I see a book on psychology and look through all the pages.

The human brain is a complex maze that requires studying and discipline to unlock its depths. And that's when I see it, 'Chapter 17: The Psychology of Suicide.'

The note in my pool bag haunts me—the ghost letters 'J. D' make me gasp for air. Is it a cry for help, and if so, am I too late? If J.D is dead, is it my fault for not hunting everywhere for him or her?

Suicide: the act of causing injury or harm to oneself with the intent to die.

I read the definition over and over. The only person I have ever known to die was my grandma. She was eighty-two and had a heart attack. Suicide is complex for me to understand. I'm scared of heights and getting in car accidents because I am very much aware that I am alive and breathing. So why would someone want to end it all?

Are you still here, J.D? If you aren't, could I find your name in an obituary?

I head to the kitchen and check the newspaper. There are no names that match the initials 'J.D.' Maybe the KAT trio made the note up to make me look like a fool.

I collect more books in a reusable grocery bag. The bag is packed and heavy enough for me. I walk outside toward the Lending Library, and I see the KAT trio walking by when I do.

"Train Tracks back for more? You're such a loser. And look, she has a bag full of books for me to rip this time," Kelly laughs.

"Touch my books, and I'll rip your hair out," I warn.

"Are you threatening me, Cage Face? Why are you so weird? You're such a little creep."

Kelly grabs my bag of donated novels and starts to rip it from my shoulder. The reusable bag's seams begin to tear. Instead of fighting her, I let go of the entire bag and watch Kelly fall on her ass to the ground.

I start laughing at Kelly. Tia and Alexa just stand there. They never do anything unless ordered by their beloved Queen B.

"Karma's a bitch isn't she, Kelly. It serves you right. See you in class. And thanks for my novels back."

I grab the bag of novels. Kelly's still recovering from the fall. She's too startled to snap back. So, I used her confusion to make my quick getaway.

I get to the Lending Library and place all my dad's old novels inside. I see another crumpled-up piece of paper. Is it another note?

Dear Lily,

Thanks for receiving my note. Can you help me?

-J. D

My heart pounds. How does this person know my name? And how do they know I am one of the few people to use the Lending Library? Am I being followed? Unlikely, if I were, why would they leave me a note with their handwriting on it?

I take the second note and look around to see if there are any stalkers nearby. Instead, I see a squirrel and three sparrows. Nothing to worry about, I guess. The Lending Library is full, which means my mission is complete. My neighborhood can rest easy, knowing there's new literature to educate them.

I secretly know I'm the only person who cares about the library being full. But it's nice to feel like I'm a part of something. So, for now, I'll focus on reading, starting my senior year, and finding out who 'J. D' is.