Long Lost by Jacqueline West

Author:Jacqueline West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greenwillow Books
Published: 2021-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Fiona was grounded for the entire week.

On Monday morning, her parents headed off to work, leaving Arden and Fiona in the house together. Arden stayed so icily silent, Fiona might as well have been there alone. Fiona knew there was no point asking Arden what she’d done with The Lost One. Her sister would only lie, if she spoke to her at all.

They finished their breakfast in stifling quiet. Arden cleared her dishes and stalked into the living room.

“I’ll be upstairs!” Fiona shouted after her.

Arden didn’t answer.

That was fine with Fiona. Her words weren’t a peace offering. They were an alibi.

Shut in her bedroom, Fiona pulled the curtains and switched off the lights, making everything as dim as possible. She wadded a pile of dirty laundry under the bedspread, so if Arden happened to glance in—which wasn’t likely—she’d think Fiona was curled up in bed, taking a sulky nap. Then Fiona waited.

At last, when she heard her sister’s footsteps on the stairs, followed by the closing bathroom door and the pipe-creaking hiss of the shower, Fiona took her chance.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder, bolted out of the house, and biked away as fast as she could ride.

A funny feeling struck her as she climbed the steps of Chisholm Memorial Library.

These were the steps that Pearl had bounded up while being chased by the Searcher. This was the doorway where Pixie had waited, keeping guard. This was Pearl and Hazel’s house.

No—Margaret and Evelyn’s house. When Fiona stepped across the threshold, she felt like both a guest and a trespasser, like she was stepping into the past and the present at the very same time.

The librarian with the bow tie—it was a purple one this morning—smiled at her as she slipped by. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Owens,” said Fiona.

Today she wasn’t looking for a book.

She was looking for that blond-haired boy.

She knew he lived on Church Street, but she didn’t know his house number, or even his name. Her only real option was searching where she’d found him in the first place.

Fiona had just finished checking the upstairs rooms and was padding back along the walkway when, in the central chamber below her, a familiar figure caught her eye.

It wasn’t the blond boy.

Someone with swirly brown hair topped by a little bouquet of violets had just emerged from the research room.

Fiona watched as Ms. Miranda glanced carefully around the room, making sure that Mr. Owens was busy helping a patron at the computers before ducking behind the circulation desk. Once more, the librarian glanced to either side. But she didn’t look up.

From above, Fiona watched as Ms. Miranda crouched behind the desk. The librarian pulled something dark green and book-shaped from under her arm, stuffed it into a canvas shoulder bag, and hid the bag behind a wastebasket. Then, with one last look around, she rose and strode away, leaving the desk unoccupied.

Fiona sucked in a gasp that felt full of static electricity.

Her book—The Lost One—was here.

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