Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Nothing I’m going to say is going to change your mind, is it?” I ask her and she slowly shakes her head side to side.
“Okay, let’s eat breakfast and then head on over to the high school.”
“You are going to come with me?” she asks, shocked I’m giving in so easily and equal parts shocked I’m going with her.
“I’ll be there to either help you walk,” I tell her, “or carry you. Either way, you aren’t doing this alone.”
The smile fills her face. “You are so getting lucky later.”
I chuckle. “Baby, every single day I get to come home to you and lie by your side is me being lucky.”
“Okay, enough of that, or we won’t even leave today.” She gets on her tippy-toes and kisses my neck, moving back over to her coffee.
We get dressed side by side, her in a pair of black tights with a thick, knitted, long-sleeved charcoal turtleneck sweater. Me in a pair of black jeans and charcoal T-shirt, the whole time not saying a word. Neither of us says anything as I open the truck door for her when we leave the house. When we get to the school, we walk side by side, and she takes a deep breath when we walk into the building.
Opening the door at the same time the bells ring, we look right and then left, seeing kids coming out of the classrooms and rushing to get to the next one. I spot one of the teachers walking down the hallway and give him a chin up. “We’re looking for the office?” I ask as he holds a book in one of his hands.
“Up those stairs.” He points at the five stairs to the side. “It’s the second door on the right.”
“Thank you.” I nod, sliding my hand in hers as we make our way over to the office.
The big sign hanging in front of the open door says “Main Office.” We walk in past the seating area where four chairs are lined up against a wall with windows that show out of the room.
There’s a long desk in the middle of the room, with two desks behind it facing each other. Two office doors are on each side, right behind the desks. There’s a binder opened up at the far end of the counter with a pen and white paper.
The woman sitting at the desk takes one look at us before pushing away from her desk and coming over. “Hi, may I help you?”
“Hello,” Sierra says, “I was wondering if by any chance there is a library where we can go and check out old yearbooks.”
“You would need to sign in”—she points over at the book at the end—“and I’ll take you there.”
I walk over to the book and sign us both in, and she hands us both visitors’ badges. I clip mine to my shirt when she clips hers on hers. “This way,” she urges, walking out of the office and down the same hallway to the end where the library is. “You need to hand in your badges before you leave.”
“We will,” Sierra says. “Thanks for all your help.”
We walk into the library and head straight to the counter. “How can I help you?” asks the woman working behind the counter.
“We were looking to see if we can check out yearbooks from twenty-nine to twenty-five years ago,” Sierra answers, and the librarian whistles.
“Those are going to be in the archives for sure,” she states. “May take me a couple of minutes to get them.”
“Do you need any help?” I ask her and she smiles over at me.
“If you want, I would never say no to that.” I nod at her and give her my own smile.
“Lead the way,” I tell her and she walks around the counter and heads toward the back room.
I follow her as she takes her keys out of her pocket and opens the door before turning on the light and stepping in. “They are all dated by year,” she says of the boxes that are facing us piled on shelves. She holds open the door for me as she steps into the room, and you can smell the oldness of the room. “It will most likely be in this area,” she says, looking at the second shelf. “Yup, this is from twenty-five to thirty years ago.” She calculates the years written on the box. I grab the small footstool they have, walking over and grabbing the handle to the brown box before stepping down. The inch layer of dust on the top of the box shows you this hasn’t been opened in the longest fucking time. “You can take that box and look at it on one of the desks.”
I follow her out and see Sierra standing there pacing back and forth in front of the door. “I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”