Chapter 13
Chapter 13
The library smelled like old paper and dust.
I sat in one of the far corners, tucked away behind tall shelves filled with thick textbooks no one ever seemed to touch.
My Chemistry book was open in front of me.
At least, that’s what it looked like.
In reality, my eyes weren’t even seeing the pages.
Hidden inside my Chemistry book was a thin notebook I had found buried deep in the school library earlier that morning.
I flipped through it slowly, pretending to study while my heart raced.
Most of it was boring.
Old science journals.
Notes about biology experiments.
But then... something caught my eye.
A single headline, printed in tiny, cramped letters:
"Memory Transfer Trials Approved — Confidential Project Underway"
I sat up a little straighter, my hands tightening around the page.
Memory transfer?
I read on, but the article didn’t say much.
It mentioned some scientists working on dream therapy and memory implantation for "psychiatric recovery."
No names.
No locations.
No real details.
Just whispers.
Hints.
Enough to make my stomach twist with nervous excitement.
I wanted to tear the page out and shove it in my bag.
But I knew the librarians would notice.
Instead, I snapped a quick picture with my phone under the table, keeping my movements slow and casual.
I didn’t want to draw attention.
---
I leaned back in my chair and stretched, pretending to yawn.
I needed a break.
My head was spinning.
So many questions.
So few answers.
I rubbed my temples and stared blankly at the tall windows across the room, the afternoon sunlight streaming in and painting golden stripes across the dusty floor.
The library was mostly empty.
A few students scattered here and there.
Some sleeping over open textbooks.
Some typing frantically on laptops.
Everything felt normal.
Safe.
---
Until I felt it again.
That prickling sensation at the back of my neck.
The one I had felt in Chemistry class.
I shifted slightly and glanced around casually.
There.
A few tables away.
The quiet boy from Chemistry.
He sat hunched over a thick book, a pencil tapping lightly against the table.
But his eyes weren’t on the book.
They were on me.
Watching.
Not in a creepy way.
Not in a threatening way.
More like... curious.
Confused.
Like he was trying to figure something out.
Our eyes met for a second.
He looked startled, like he hadn’t expected to be caught.
He quickly dropped his gaze and pretended to be reading.
I forced myself to look away too, pretending I hadn’t noticed.
My heart hammered in my chest.
Who was he?
Why did he keep looking at me like that?
Did he know something?
Or was I just seeing what I wanted to see?
---
I packed up my things slowly, my mind racing.
I couldn’t just walk up to him and start asking questions.
I had to be careful.
Smart.
The last thing I needed was to scare him off.
Or worse — draw attention from the wrong people.
I slid the notebook back into its hiding place and tucked my Chemistry book under my arm.
As I stood up, I risked one more glance in his direction.
He was staring again.
This time, he didn’t look away.
There was something almost sad in his eyes.
Like he knew me.
Like he had lost me.
My stomach twisted painfully.
I turned and walked out of the library, keeping my pace steady.
Not too fast.
Not too slow.
Just normal.
Just another student heading to her next class.
But inside, my mind was screaming.
---
The hallways were crowded again, filled with the usual noise — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking against the floors, teachers shouting over the chaos.
I let the noise wash over me, grounding me.
I needed a plan.
I needed to find out who that boy was.
And why he looked at me like that.
But not today.
Today, I needed to breathe.
---
By the time I got home, my brain felt like it had been wrung out like a wet towel.
I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my shoes, heading straight for the kitchen.
Chris was there, sitting at the table with his homework spread out in front of him.
He looked up when he saw me.
“Hey, nerd.”
“Hey, idiot.”
He grinned.
“Mom’s working late again. Said to order pizza if you’re hungry.”
I nodded and grabbed a glass of water, drinking it slowly.
The coldness felt good against my dry throat.
I leaned against the counter, watching Chris struggle with his math homework.
“You need help?”
He made a face.
“No offense, but I listen in class.”
I laughed.
“True.”
I ruffled his hair on the way out, dodging his playful swat.
---
Upstairs, I collapsed onto my bed and pulled out my notebook.
I added a new entry:
"Library — Found article about memory transfer. Vague info. Need to dig deeper."
"Quiet boy from Chemistry stared at me again. Looks confused. Feels familiar."
I stared at the words for a long time.
They didn’t look like much.
Just scribbles on a page.
But to me, they were proof.
Proof that I wasn’t imagining things.
Proof that something real was hidden just under the surface of my life.
And I was getting closer to it.
Little by little.
---
My phone buzzed beside me.
A text from Lena.
"Mike’s being weird again. Can I crash at yours later?"
"Of course," I typed back without even thinking.
She didn’t have to explain.
I understood more than she knew.
Sometimes you just needed to be somewhere safe.
Even if only for a little while.
---
I spent the next hour cleaning my room, straightening the bed, lighting a soft vanilla candle.
Trying to make the space feel warm and safe.
For both of us.
When Lena finally arrived, she looked exhausted.
Her eyes were puffy like she had been crying.
Her smile was shaky.
But it was still there.
“Hey, loser,” she said, tossing her bag onto the floor.
“Hey, crybaby,” I teased gently, pulling her into a hug.
She hugged me back tightly.
For a moment, we just stood there, holding on.
No words needed.
No explanations.
Just two broken girls trying to keep each other from falling apart.
---
We spent the evening eating microwave popcorn and watching old movies on my laptop.
We didn’t talk about Mike.
We didn’t talk about Alex.
We just... existed.
And for once, that was enough.
---
Later, after Lena had fallen asleep on the floor wrapped in a blanket, I sat by my window, staring out at the dark night.
The stars were hidden behind thick clouds.
The air smelled like rain.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes.
Somewhere out there, Alex was living his life.
Maybe going to school.
Maybe studying.
Maybe falling in love with someone else.
The thought made my chest ache.
But I pushed it away.
I wasn’t giving up.
Not yet.
I opened my notebook and wrote one final line before slipping into bed:
"Find the boy in Chemistry. Find the missing pieces."
And for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep without dreaming.
Just hope.