One Tiny Secret - By Adam Kunz Page 0,36

three. Taking the marked one, I flip it open to the middle of the book and find another folded piece of paper. The message reads:

You’re liked, but you’re not well liked.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I ask in a severe whisper, feeling confused and uneasy at the same time. This person is really testing my patience. There’s more:

The Masque of the Red Death…find it!

That’s one of my all-time favorite Edgar Allan Poe stories. I wonder if this person knows that. I wonder how well this person knows me in general. I mean, the person knows my schedule, where I work, has access to my school, my house. The more I think about it, the more fearful and vulnerable I feel. Clearly this person has done something to Janice, and now I’m officially the next target.

“How is this all going to end?” I ask myself before tracking down Poe in the stacks.

I know the aisle that Poe is in very well, and it takes me no time at all to find the book. I’ve spent many slow days here, perusing Poe’s works over and over again until I committed most of them to memory.

There are only two copies of the book—one is the standalone print copy, and the other is a part of the giant book of Poe. I don’t see an X on either one. Picking up the print copy, I don’t feel anything inside of it. There’s no bulge, and nothing falls out when I shake the book open with its pages facing downward.

I place that copy back on the shelf and pluck out the big book of Poe. I already know what page number The Masque of the Red Death starts on, so I immediately turn to it. There’s nothing there either. Then something dawns on me and I hurry out to where I last saw my boss.

“Joan, didn’t we have two paperback copies of Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death?” I ask, seeing her helping a customer at the checkout counter.

“Yeah, I just sold it to this gentleman here,” she replies, holding up the book for me to see.

I go into panic mode and try to think of some excuse to get that book back. A stroke of genius hits me like a lightning bolt as I rush over to the counter.

“Hey, let me see that copy real quick,” I say, extending my hand out for it.

“Why?” Joan asks, confused.

“Yeah, why?” the customer chimes in, also reaching for the book. “Come on, I’ve got to get going. I need to have this read before class tomorrow.”

I see Joan about to hand it over to the guy, and I pipe up. “Wait—is there an X on the spine of that book?”

Joan looks at the spine. “Yeah, there is.”

“That’s the defective copy. I marked it myself after reading some of it. It’s got some weird printing issues, and I just forgot to pull it from the shelf,” I lie, but I have to get that book.

“That’s okay. I just need to read it for class,” the guy insists.

Thankfully, Joan hesitates and then replies, “Dani will you please grab the other copy for this gentleman so that he can be on his way? We don’t sell defective copies in this store.”

“Got it. I’ll take that copy and do the return paperwork if you want, Joan,” I offer.

“Good idea,” she says, giving me the book.

I breathe an internal sigh of relief once I have the book in my hands. I seriously have to fight every temptation to not just rip it open and find the next message right then and there.

Hurrying back into the stacks to retrieve the other copy for the customer, I find myself succumbing to my want to see what’s inside. The bulge feels a little different in this one, and I’m surprised that neither the guy who was buying it nor Joan felt this and thought it was odd.

Opening the book to the middle, I don’t find a piece of paper. Instead I find my other skull-and-crossbones earring taped to the page. I want to scream, but find that no sound comes out. These earrings were on my dresser last night. I know they were because I took them off and put them there myself. This person has been in my room—probably while I was sleeping. Why didn’t the person just kill me then, or kidnap me? Why is Unknown toying with me?

My phone pings, signaling that a message has come through. Waking up