Deceived by Julie Anne Lindsey

giant coffee I had picked up on my way in and inhaled the warm sweetness. By the time the coffee ran out, my fingers ached and my wrists were numb. I stretched in the hard wooden chair, no longer feeling very nestled, and rolled my head over my shoulders.
    Dead end after dead end left me more determined. I couldn’t find anything more about Brian or my mom than I already knew, which was nothing. I moved on to my assignment, Googling myself, then my father. Changing my focus seemed in order, but there was nothing to find. I looked through all the papers local to D.C. and at the clerk of courts. I didn’t find a birth certificate for any of us, a death certificate for my mother, or even a record of their marriage.
    A click in the distance caught my attention. My mouth fell open. I was alone. Shadows of the last set of students danced along the outside of the windows. They were gone. Not a single girl or librarian in sight. The stillness sent goose bumps over my skin. Alone in the oversized room, I peered up into three empty stories above me. Thousands of volumes. No people. My skin snapped to attention. I coughed, and the sound echoed upward and out, bouncing off stone floors and sparse wooden furniture.
    I turned in my seat, desperate for a sign of life. A cart loaded with books stood abandoned near a door marked “staff.” What a time to take a break. Didn’t the librarian know I had serious paranoia issues? I sighed and tapped my fingers against the heavy, lacquered table. I pinched my lips tight between my teeth and considered how quickly I could pack up and get out.
    The week of weird had me more on edge than ever before. Brian warned me not to be alone, and the library was silent. My mind suggested some less-than-lovely possibilities. I’d spent an hour reading the awful details from article after article about some crazed serial killer who had stalked North America back when my family lived in D.C. It seemed to be the only story of interest from the year Mom died. The killer moved from Canada to the United States and even logged a few kills in tourist areas of Mexico during his run. I shivered at the thought of that man—I used the word loosely—being free. Good to know it was over a decade ago.
    Yeah. Time to leave. I turned to retrieve my backpack from the floor beside me.
    “Elle?” Brian appeared out of thin air and stood less than two feet away from my chair.
    “Ahhh!” I gasped for air and clutched my chest. My heart tried to escape through my mouth. Swallowing was impossible. I leaned forward and hoped to avoid passing out completely. “Are you kidding me?”
    “Sorry.” He sounded more amused than I liked. “What’re you doing? Planning a heist?” He took a seat beside me and leaned in close to take a look. I leaned away and scrunched my brows. He took my hand and checked my pulse.
    I jerked it back. My mouth fell open again. “I’m fine. You scared me.”
    His eyes shifted to my journal and I snapped it shut.
    “One minute I’m completely alone and the next minute you’re right there.” I motioned with my hands for emphasis. “How long have you been here?”
    “You need to be more aware of your surroundings. This is the second time I’ve startled you. You should’ve known I was here.” He shook his head in disappointment.
    Fire burned beneath my skin. “Why are you here?”
    “Why are you?”
    “I’m studying.”
    He looked at me skeptically. His eyes moved to the laptop and again to my journal.
    He looked dubiously at the stack of closed textbooks.
    One long arm dove before me and turned the laptop to face him.
    I snapped the lid down. This silent conversation I understood. We both had secrets.
    His eyes narrowed and he waited.
    “I was researching for our Sociology assignment.” I cleared my throat twice mid-sentence.
    “In the D.C. paper?”
    He had seen more than I thought.
    “Find anything interesting?”
    “No. Well, yes. I couldn’t find any evidence of my existence,