Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,33

whistling off-key echoes down the hallway. “There’s Billy,” says Sophie. She rises to her feet and peers down at me. “You need to go. Even if I wanted to let you stay, I can’t. I’d lose my job.”

“I understand,” I say.

Reaching out a finger, she brushes hair out of my eyes. “What’s your name?” she asks me.

“Hank.”

“Hank, call your mother,” she whispers, like she knows something about me that I don’t. “I guarantee she would sacrifice her own life just to have you back home. Understand?”

I nod, my eyes burning. She turns toward the door, clears her throat, and asks, “By the way, you didn’t come across a set of keys the other night, did you?”

I don’t even try to sidestep the question. Instead, I reach into my pocket and give her an apologetic smile as the keys chink into her open hand.

“Good boy,” she says, and she leaves the room. The words float in her wake, and something inside me longs to follow after her. But I just lie there and listen as her footsteps echo down the hallway and disappear.

8

It’s early morning in downtown Concord, but already the entire town seems wide awake. Sitting near the window inside the doughnut shop, I watch normal citizens go about their normal lives. Just the start of another day. A line of people snakes out the door, waiting to order their large coffees, doughnuts, and breakfast sandwiches. My coffee is black and I nibble on a double chocolate doughnut. Chocolate for breakfast. I thought it would cheer me up; make things look a little better. It doesn’t.

Once again, I’m in search of shelter. It’s hard to focus on moving forward in my completely unsettled life when I don’t even know where I’m going to sleep tonight. Plus, I’m running dangerously low on money. Something’s got to change soon. A part of me actually considers going back to New York to find Jack and Nessa. At least that way, I wouldn’t be so alone. And lonely.

With my teeth I rip open a packet of Advil that I bought at the convenience store across the street, and wash them down with bitter coffee. Maybe if I can get rid of this headache and stop feeling so dizzy, I’ll be able to think straight. Like some wounded animal, I want to curl up and hide until I feel better. Even animals can find a cave or a hole in a tree where they can rest. Where can I go?

When the workers behind the counter in their goofy paper hats start giving me funny looks and whispering to each other, I figure I’ve overstayed my welcome. I hit the streets and just walk. One foot and then the other foot, getting me somewhere. Anywhere. As if they know where they’re going, they take me down the street to the Concord Free Public Library. They take me up the stairs and through the front door. Public building. Warmth. Shelter. I’m in.

At first I’m kind of surprised that it’s not the Henry David Thoreau Memorial Library. I mean, isn’t everything in Concord named after Thoreau? And when I wander into the lobby, I’m sure at first that the life-size white marble statue of a guy sitting on a throne-like chair is Thoreau too. I almost expect him to get up off his marble throne and start yelling at me for being such a failure. But the base of the statue says he’s Ralph Waldo Emerson. That name again. Guess he was pretty famous in Concord. One of Thoreau’s buddies, maybe. Whatever.

Damn, my head hurts.

“Hank?”

At first I think I’ve imagined someone saying my name. But when I hear it again, I whirl around and see a big man in black horn-rimmed glasses standing behind me in the library lobby, smiling like he’s happy to see me.

I look at him blankly.

“Hank, it’s me.” When I still don’t respond, he pulls off the glasses.

“Thomas?”

He laughs at my stunned expression. “In the flesh. Good to see you, Hank.” He reaches out a huge hand to give me a cheerful smack on the shoulder that actually hurts.

“Good to see you,” I echo weakly.

“So what brings you to the library in the middle of the morning?”

“I want to take out books,” I say. Duh, I sound like a moron.

“Isn’t this a school day? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Well.” My mind races, and I remember what I said to Hailey two days ago. “I’m home-schooled, so I do a lot of projects on my