Quinn wondered what would happen if she just walked up to William and asked, or called him on the phone tonight, when his uncle said he would be home. Right. Quinn knew she would never have the guts to do something like that.
Another thought was plaguing her. If William wasn’t going to be home until later tonight, where was he now? Suddenly, she wished she had called his house yesterday. Had he been home at all this weekend? Without really meaning to, she found herself driving down Bray Street.
She knew she was crossing a line. Anyone might recognize her as she parked a little way up the street from Doctor Rose’s house, on the opposite side so that she could see their sidewalk and driveway clearly. She just hoped that the cold temperatures and the approaching evening would keep everyone in their houses and away from her car as she watched for William to return to his house.
She didn’t know what kind of car he drove, or even if he had a car at all. Of course, it was kind of the hope, wasn’t it, that he wouldn’t be driving home from somewhere in Bristlecone? She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to see as she sat here, but if he simply pulled into his driveway and went inside, this was going to be a wasted trip. She pulled a blanket out of the back seat, and her copy of the book she was supposed to be reading for English out of her bag, figuring she might as well get something done while she sat here.
After about twenty minutes, she was starting to get cold, even with the blanket, and light was quickly fading from the sky. This was stupid. Her key was halfway to the ignition when she glanced up a final time. There he was, walking up the street on the opposite side of her, wearing the same long coat and heavy-duty backpack. He hadn’t come from the end of the street – he had to have been on the little hiking trail. He was coming back from the river; he had to be.
Again with the river. She watched in silence as he walked up to his house and disappeared into the front door.
In that instant, she knew that she was not going crazy or imagining things. Something seriously – not normal – was going on with him.
After dinner, when she finally checked her text messages again, there were several from Abigail. She groaned at the most recent one, left nearly an hour ago.
What is going on? R U mad at me?
Guilt wrenched her insides over letting this thing with William get in the way of their friendship. Abigail annoyed her sometimes, it was true, especially in the last year or so since she’d really gotten into boys and the social scene, but she was still the friend Quinn could trust the most.
She knew that Abigail would keep her secret if she shared it. She would think Quinn was crazy, but Abigail would help her. Despite that, she also knew that she wasn’t going to tell Abigail anything about William Rose; she didn’t know why, but she just – couldn’t. Not now, anyway.
What she could do was spill the details about Zander. Abigail would like that, and she really was dying to, anyway. For the next few days, she promised herself, she would focus on patching things up with her friend and looking forward to the Valentine dance, which was not quite two weeks away.
She would worry about William Rose later; she had a feeling he would be back at the bridge again on Friday, and with her mom and her siblings going out of town, maybe she would have the chance to find out why.
5. Curious
For two whole days at school, Quinn was able to keep her promise to herself. She paid attention to her classes and her friendship with Abigail, taking advantage of the fact that both Zander and Adam were away on the field trip, and Abigail wasn’t worrying about impressing a boy during lunch.
But on Tuesday evening, as she was shelving a cart full of books at Bristlecone Public Library, William Rose once again caught her attention. It shouldn’t have surprised her, seeing him there. She had worked part-time at the library since she was fourteen, and William had always been a regular. So regular that she’d stopped noticing him long ago.
As soon as she saw him though, she realized that he hadn’t come in last week during either of her shifts. Why did she know that? It made her uncomfortable, realizing how closely she’d been paying attention to him – even before the second time she’d seen him by the river. She’d never been like that before – had she?
After that second time, her curiosity seemed to have taken on a life of its own, and she knew had become hyper-aware of him every time she saw him. She didn’t have any classes with him at school, which was not strange, as he was a senior and she a junior, but he seemed to be where she was every time she walked through the hallway or ate in the cafeteria.
He was everywhere now, always quiet, keeping to himself. It almost seemed as if he purposefully avoided attracting attention of any kind, but now that she was so alert, she saw him constantly. Still, for all the times she had watched him, she had learned nothing new.
Tonight, he was on her radar as soon as he entered the library, heading straight for a small table in the back of the reference section. He carried a backpack, but only a small inexpensive one, the kind nearly everyone at school wore, not the expensive hiking-type she had seen him wearing on Friday.
It was frustrating, the way she could not seem to get him out of her head. His appearances in her dreams at night were becoming more and more vivid; nearly being run over by her car, disappearing into the river, ducking into classrooms at school. Last night she had dreamed that she was outside somewhere with him, walking under a blue sky, surrounded by trees and open fields, and laughing about something. The dream had ended, and she had awakened feeling disconcerted, but with a renewed sense that she had to know what was going on with this strange boy.
She finished re-shelving half the books on the cart, and surreptitiously wheeled it over toward the reference section, parking three-quarters of the way down the back row, in a spot where she could see him, but he wouldn’t be able to see her. He sat at the table, surrounded by three piles of thick books. He was leafing through some kind of reference journal, but she could not read the title from where she was. It looked like an odd collection of reading material for a seventeen-year-old boy, but he was engrossed in his task, making notes about whatever he was reading in a thick, black binder.
Unable to contain the impulse, she walked over to him. “Anything I can help you find?”
He didn’t even look up as he answered. “No, thank you.”
Was he hoping to win some kind of award for making it to graduation without ever interacting with another human being? She stole a glance at the titles in his neat stacks of books before retreating to her hiding spot, politely muttering, “Well, let me know,” as she walked away.
Safely back by her cart, she peeked at him again. The New England Journal of Medicine? He couldn’t possibly need that for a high-school Biology class. All of the books in his stacks had been from the medical reference shelves. Unable to see him clearly, she crept silently to the corner, where she could steal a closer view.
Suddenly, William looked up from his task, straight to the spot where she was standing and staring at him. Before she could duck back around the corner, his eyes met hers. The intensity of the irritation she saw there momentarily vanquished her burning curiosity. Heat rushed from the base of her neck to the top of her forehead as she turned and fled to the other end of the library.
The rest of the night, she stayed far enough away from him to avoid direct contact, but she silently kept tabs on him until he left, only a few minutes before the library closed. He was gone, of course, by the time she made her way back to her car to head home.
Not wanting a repeat of what had happened at the library, Quinn’s observations of William at school became stealthier, but at the same time her interest grew more intense. There was definitely something strange about him, and though she didn’t understand why she cared so much, figuring out what it was quickly became her obsession.
On Thursday morning, as she was digging through her locker, looking for the books she needed for her first class, she was also surreptitiously scanning the hallway for Wi
lliam. Abigail was standing at her locker, next to Quinn’s, wondering whether Adam was going to ask her to the Valentine Dance. Quinn had sort of felt guilty when she’d told Abigail about Zander asking her. Now, she listened only enough to insert a vague “uh-huh,” and “I think so,” in the appropriate pauses.
He wasn’t difficult to spot, wearing his usual deep purple sweater and the backpack she’d scrutinized at the library the night before. He seemed as oblivious to the rest of the students as he always was, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he walked into an English classroom.
“Quinn! Quinn! Over here!” Abigail’s voice demanded her attention.
She gulped. She had gotten carried away watching William, and lost track of her conversation with Abigail. “Sorry, Ab, I’m listening.”
Her friend frowned. “What is up with you lately?”
She swallowed hard; she must have missed something that Abigail thought was important. “I don’t know. I just keep getting … distracted.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Every time I try to talk to you, you’re out in space somewhere. Are you okay?”
Was she? She had been trying to keep her behavior under control. “I’m fine. I think I’m just a little tired, maybe stressed out a bit.”
“Stressed over what?
She shrugged, trying to come up with an excuse. “Things are hard on my mom right now, with Jeff gone and everything. I keep having these weird dreams and then I can’t get back to sleep.” At least part of her explanation was true, though she felt a wave of guilt over the sympathy that appeared in Abigail’s eyes.
A bell rang just then, reminding them that they had one minute to get to class before they would be marked tardy. “Anyway, Abby, I’m sorry. I’ll try to snap out of it.” Quinn ended the conversation by slamming her locker shut and hurrying to Trigonometry.
It should have felt creepy, this following William around, stalking his every move … she couldn’t understand what made her do it. It wasn’t like there was any reason for her to care what this boy was doing, why he avoided talking to people, why he spent so much time in the library looking through medical books. It wasn’t really even William himself at all. There was just something about the whole situation that set off a strange, compelling signal somewhere inside of her.
Something about it all was so – familiar? That wasn’t the right word for it, but it was the closest she could come to describing the feeling that washed over her every time she encountered William doing something that just didn’t seem right. It was all so out of the ordinary, mysterious... and it was something that she just needed to understand.
On Thursday night, when she worked again at the library, Quinn found herself watching for him. This time, she was determined to keep her distance, but she had to find out exactly what he was researching. Tuesday night, after she had watched him leave carrying nothing but his nearly empty backpack, she had gone over to his table to re-shelve the materials he had been reading, but the table was empty.
The area looked as if nobody had been there. She had checked all of the nearby bins where patrons could deposit books they were finished using, but found no medical books in any of them. Not one item was out of place on the shelves he had pulled them from, either. So tonight, she would look more closely. She waited for him as she worked, staying in the front area of the library, looking up every time she heard the whoosh of the door, but he never came.
By Friday, She felt as if her curiosity was going to eat her alive. All day at school, she kept a tighter eye on William than she ever had before. She didn’t see anything different about him. As always, he walked quietly between his classes, keeping to himself, engaging in few conversations with other students. Occasionally he might offer an “excuse me” if he were trying to squeeze by someone, but Quinn never overheard a string of more than five words at a time.
It was lunchtime when she noticed something amiss. She was sitting at her usual table. With the senior football players gone, the cafeteria was a little quieter than usual. Abigail was busy gossiping with a couple of their other friends about the Valentine Dance. They’d given up on Quinn joining in with them, though she knew she probably should.
She glanced around the cafeteria looking for William, certain she would see him occupying one of his usual spots, one of the smaller tables that dotted the middle of the room, busily reading or completing a homework assignment. That was William’s true talent, she had realized, hiding in the middle of everything, while attracting no notice whatsoever. But he wasn’t there. Puzzled, she let her eyes slowly scan all of the tables in the room, mostly occupied by familiar clumps of students. He wasn’t anywhere.
Vaguely mentioning something about the restroom, she left her lunch and wandered into the hallway to find him.
He wasn’t difficult to locate. After walking past his locker and nonchalantly standing near the restroom doors for several minutes, she realized that she should have checked the library first. There he was, huddled over the keyboard of one of the ancient computers, his backpack hanging neatly over the back of the wooden chair. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was in the middle of the library. Careful as she’d been to avoid him noticing her all week, now she wasn’t even thinking about what he might do if he saw her as she strode toward the side wall.
“Quinn! Can I help you find something, honey?” The voice startled her, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She hadn’t even seen Mrs. Johnson in here. Bristlecone’s tiny school district could only afford one librarian; the high school shared the kind, older woman with the K-8 school. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you. What can I do for you?”
A sickening sensation rolled through her stomach as William turned around in his seat to watch her conversation with Mrs. Johnson.
“Um...” she scrambled for something to say. “Do you have the Norton Anthology of Poetry? I need to look up something for my essay that’s due on Monday.” This was an outright lie; the essay for her English class was already finished.
Mrs. Johnson frowned, her wire-rimmed glasses slipping just slightly down her nose. “I’m sorry sweetheart. All of my copies are checked out right now. They don’t have it at the public library?”
“Theirs is checked out, too.” She’d never lied to a teacher before; could Mrs. Johnson see it on her face?
“I see. Is there something else we can look for that might help?”
“No. Thank you anyway, though.” All she wanted right then was to end the conversation. Every part of her wanted to turn and run out of the library as fast as she could.
“Are you sure? We have several other anthologies.”
“Yeah.” Her cheeks glowed warmer and warmer. “I have the one I really need – I just wanted to look up something else if it was here.”
“Sure, honey. It’s nice to see you in here. You don’t come in much anymore, now that you’re working at the big library.” She swallowed hard at these words. She’d loved Mrs. Johnson since the first week of kindergarten, the kind woman with the room full of books. She glanced over at the corner; William was still staring at her, his eyebrows raised.
“It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Johnson. I suppose I should go, though, before I miss my entire lunch.”
“All right, honey, go on. But don’t be such a stranger.”
She smiled, then turned and hurried out of the library, feeling William’s eyes on her back the whole way.
6. The Bridge
This was it. Quinn took a deep breath as she searched for a rock to tuck her car keys and cell phone under. Finding a smooth, flat piece of granite, she lifted it and propped a small stick underneath, both to keep the weight of the rock off her items and to make the place easier to find again.
After the incident in the library today, she had decided that she was absolutely done waiting. She was going to follow him this afternoon, and if he went to the bridge again, she was going to follow.
And that’s exactly what had happened. She had watched Will
iam climb up the broken steps of the old bridge from a hiding spot behind a boulder on the riverbank, and again he had somehow just disappeared. She had seen him climb the first two steps, and then a pine tree had blocked her view. Now, he wasn’t anywhere. Her eyes scanned the entire length of the riverbank and the shallow running water. She was alone.
Fully feeling the weight of her stupidity, Quinn climbed the four crumbling stone steps, toward the end of the broken-off bridge. This time, she did not hold back or hesitate. She closed her eyes and stepped forward. Expecting only a loss of balance and the resulting short drop into the cold water below, she was surprised when it didn’t come. There was solid stone underneath her right foot. Maybe she had missed. When a second attempt with her left foot also failed to produce an icy-cold plunge into the stream, she opened her eyes.
* * *
William had never been so freaked out — or irritated — in his entire life. He had known the girl was paying attention to him after that stupid accident – had known that she had been following him at school and watching him in the library. That was obvious. However, he had never dreamed that she would follow him closely enough to see him going through the gate.
He was used to the curiosity, of course. That had plagued him off and on ever since he had first started staying with Nathaniel in Bristlecone, and had enrolled in the third grade at Bristlecone K-8. This was not the first time someone had tried to learn more about him.
There had even been a time, in eighth grade, when Allison Rivera had imagined she had a crush on the strange boy she barely knew. He had seen her watching him whenever they were in the same room together. He had noticed her attempts to sit by him in classes or choose him for partner work. She’d come up with silly excuses to start conversations with him, and twice, William had returned from his time in Eirentheos to find several missed calls on the caller ID from her number.
Seeds of Discovery Page 5
