Don't Fall
the other pictures I’d taken the day I met Zander. The little girl clothes hung out in the morning sun. I made them black and white and started fiddling with the contrast just as my mom pounded on the door.
    I’d forgotten it was locked. I jumped up, turned my music down, and ran to the door. My hands shook as I fumbled with the lock. “Sorry,” I said through the door. “I’m getting it.”
    When the door swung open, my mom stared down at me. “Why was this door locked?” Her voice was sharp with irritation.
    “I’m sorry, I was just changing, and I thought I should lock the door,” I spewed out the first lie that came to mind.
    “In the middle of the afternoon?” Her eyebrows arched up, her face filled with suspicion.
    “I spilled milk on my other dress.”
    She glanced behind me, surveying my room. I thought for sure she would sense the lie. But she didn’t. She was so unused to me lying, maybe it never even occurred to her that I could.
    “Dinner will be ready soon.” Her voice had regained its normal calm.
    I nodded and she left my room. I sighed and plopped down on my bed to save the work I’d done before closing down the computer and heading to dinner. We sat in near silence, the only sounds those of the silverware clicking the plate and her fork sliding through her teeth.

Chapter Six
     
    Zander
     
    Anya burst into the library, cheeks flushed, half an hour after we normally met. “Good morning,” I said. “I was worried you wouldn’t show. That you’d found a more interesting library partner and started coming on Wednesdays or something.”
    “Never,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s madness.” She tipped her head back as she said it, rolling her eyes and making me laugh. She smiled and crinkled her nose. “No, sorry. I was in such a rush to get here I forgot my bag of books on the kitchen counter.” She lifted the bag in front of her as if to prove it. “I had to go all the way back to get it. I didn’t want the books to be over—” She glanced at the front desk and froze. She stared at the librarian, an older woman with graying hair, who was staring back.
    Anya’s body tensed. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She shook herself and looked back up at me.
    “Nothing. But I have to return these and then I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll see you next time. Okay?”
    “Wait.” I grabbed her wrist as she started to turn away from me. “You just got here. I got my reading lists for some of my classes, and I wanted to show them to you.” I released her hand and grabbed my messenger bag off the floor, quickly handing her the sheets of paper I’d printed off. “I was wondering if you’ve read any of them.”
    She kept glancing between me and the librarian.
    “What’s going on? Who is that?” I turned to look at the woman, and she averted her eyes, pretending she hadn’t been watching us.
    “Mrs. Marsh. A friend of my mom’s.” She opened her purse and dug through it, finally revealing a pen. She took my papers and wrote something down quickly. “Here,” she said, handing them back to me. “I’m sorry, but I really should be going.”
    She walked slowly to the librarian’s desk, handing over the bag full of books. I strained my ears, trying to hear their conversation.
    “Who’s that you were talking to?”
    “No one,” Anya said, not glancing back at me.
    “It didn’t look like no one. What was he talking to you about?”
    “He thought I was someone else. Someone he went to school with.”
    “Oh. All right. Well, say hello to your mom for me.”
    “I will.”
    I watched her walk out of the library then looked down at the papers in my hand. In round, curly letters, she’d written her email address.
    I quickly made my way to the computers, typed in her address, then struggled with what to write. What I wanted to ask was, what the hell was that? Would she get into trouble just for talking to me?
     
    To: [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
    Subject:
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