Evil Librarian by Michelle Knudsen

Author:Michelle Knudsen [Knudsen, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-7636-7087-0
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2014-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Well, not quite alone.

There is a muffled groan from across the room, and suddenly we both remember Aaron.

“Huh,” Ryan says. “I thought he was dead.”

“He’s going to wish he was dead,” I say. Then I say: “Ow.” Because everything hurts.

“Can you sit up?”

“I think so.”

Everything still hurts, but sitting doesn’t seem to make it any worse. Ryan shifts over to sit beside me.

Aaron groans again. We look over at his crumpled form.

“What do you think we should do about him?” Ryan asks.

“Kill him?” I say hopefully. Okay, I am kidding. Or at least half kidding.

“He did seriously screw things up,” Ryan agrees. “But . . .”

I sigh. “I know. We’re not going to kill him. I might hurt him a little, though.”

“I won’t stop you.”

More groans. Aaron’s body shifts scratchily against the floor.

“I guess we should get that knife,” I say. I can see it. It’s lying on the floor a few feet from where Aaron is groaning and shifting.

“I’ve got the steak knife, too,” Ryan reminds me.

“Good. Then we can each have one.” I know I should get up, but it’s so nice to just sit here. Sit here and not move and feel Ryan’s comforting presence directly beside me, even if he didn’t actually want to kiss me before he died.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“I am thinking that our good friend Aaron owes us a little something. And I can’t think of anyone more likely to have some suggestions for what the hell we are supposed to do now.”

“We can’t trust him,” Ryan says.

“I know. That’s why the knives.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He sighs. “No.”

“And no giving up, right? Still?”

The slightest pause, and then: “Right.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and then start the slow process of getting painfully to my feet. Ryan hovers nearby, apparently ready to catch me if I can’t handle the whole standing thing. I think I’m okay, though. A little dazed, but all my parts seem to be working.

I step carefully forward and then pick up Aaron’s knife from the floor. I think it’s a hunting knife. It’s huge, with a long, polished hilt. Ryan finds his backpack and digs through it until he finds the steak knife, which we’d wrapped in a towel. He takes it out and looks at it, then looks at Aaron’s knife.

“Trade?” he asks hopefully.

“Ha. No way.”

He nods and steps around to the other side of Aaron. We stand there looking down at him for a moment.

Then I kick him in the ribs.

He groans louder, but still seems mostly unconscious. I pull my foot back to kick him again, but Ryan puts out a hand to stop me. “Cyn. We don’t want to have to take him to the hospital or something.” He crouches down beside Aaron, who is facedown, and ungently rolls him over.

Aaron groans again and moves one arm to shield his eyes.

“Hey,” I say. “Hey, asshole. Wake up.”

His groans are becoming more word-like, but I’m still not hearing actual words. I am also not feeling an abundance of patience.

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