Library

Alexander finds Julianne's father at the library.

I can't take my eyes off of the letter. Patrick Lakewood? All Julianne used to do was talk good about this guy, like he was god or something? She looked up to him, no, she pretended to look up to him because she was too scared to tell the truth.

"My piano lesson today was awesome, I think I've finally mastered my latest piece."

"Really? That's cool, I kinda wish I learned how to play piano."

"Yeah, right."

"What? You don't think I could be a pianist?"

"It's not that,"

"Then what is it exactly?"

"It's nothing, just forget it Alexander."

"God, fine."

"OK."

This whole time, this whole time she was just pretending. Why didn't she tell me any of this? Why now? Why when she's dead?

I grunt as I crumple the letter and throw it onto the floor. F**k this, I can't do this. You can't make me do this Julianne, it's too hard.

"God," I groan, putting my hands over my eyes. I can't do this, but I have to. I can't do it here though, it's not safe, my mom could come up any moment and ask me what I'm doing and I can't lie to her.

Where could I go though? I can't go to any of my friends' houses because I don't have any friends (I wouldn't trust anyone with this secret anyway), they all think I'm weird because I was best friends with the girl who killed herself. They think that I had something to do with it too, that something might have happened. 

I sigh and run a hand through my damp hair. The library should be a good place, but I don't know if I can handle any more of these letters. God, get over yourself Alexander, you need to keep going.

I grab the next three letters in order and place them in a small plastic bag that is underneath my dresser. I stuff the rest of the fourteen as best as I can underneath a pile of junk in my closet; hopefully my mom won't go snooping when I'm gone. 

"Alexander?" My mom calls me as I race down the stairs.

"Um, I'm going to the library mom." I say as I carefully slip on my sneakers. 

"What? But your dinner is going to get cold!" She protests.

"I told you I wasn't hungry!" I race out of my house before she can respond. Sorry mom but I need to figure this out; I need to figure out who killed my best friend.

**

I reach the library a few moments later, luckily it closes a few hours from now so I'll have enough time to read through all three letters. 

     As I walk in, I make sure to go to the far back of the library where not much people hang around. It's mainly just old or middle aged people reading magazines who don't really give a s**t about what the teens around them are doing, so I sit near a man who is wearing a huge trench coat and big sunglasses; it's as if he's trying to hide himself from the world or something.  

I give the library a quick glance around before slipping out the third letter, it's pink with small yellow dots. I wonder if it's about a girl. Before I can find that out, the weird man from beside me starts to speak.

"So you found them huh?" He asks me. Wait, I know this voice. I snap my head towards him, he lowers his big sunglasses slowly.

It's Mr. Potters.

"Mr. Potters?" I ask as if I don't already know the answer. 

He removes the glasses and lowers the book on Hitler away from his face. "Hey Alexander," He smiles at me. Wow, he looks a lot older than from the last time I saw him.

I look down at the letter and then back up at him. "How do you know about these?" 

He puts a finger over his mouth. "That's my secret," 

What?

I clear my throat. "How come you're not at your house, you know, in your own library?" 

He sets the book he's reading down on the table beside me with a thud. "I no longer live at my house." He sighs, pressing the creases out of his coat. 

"W-What? Why?" I thought Julianne's parents were happy together, but wait, in the second letter it said that they fought each other-but why?

Mr. Potters turns his body so that he is facing me a bit more. "I'll tell you one thing Alexander, without my Julianne there in that house to keep me sane; there is no way I am spending the rest of my life with that psychopath." 

I flinch. Psychopath? Wait; is he talking about Mrs. Potters?

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" I ask frantically.

He stands up then and slips his sunglasses onto the collar of his coat. "Read the letters carefully Alexander, and you'll find out all of your answers. My bet? It was the mom who did it." And with that he walks away from me and exits the library without a trace. 

My next instinct for some reason is to pick up the book he was reading and flip through it. So I do that, and as I do, a small piece of paper comes flapping down onto my lap.

I pick it up with shaky hands and read it slowly:

Julianne and I were very close Alexander, if you need any help with anything call this number:

416-524-8156