Chapter 3

The library is quiet and there’s this smell of wood, dust, and paper that makes me feel good in a weird way. It’s like being in a safe place. It’s like being wrapped in warmth.

“Ryan, right?”

A voice comes from behind me, and I turn to look at a very short woman in her fifties. She wears a huge smile on her cute, heart-shaped face.

“Right,” I say, trying to smile, always afraid of being creepy—because when I smile, my scar makes my face move in a weird way.

The woman, however, doesn’t seem to notice, and I’m grateful. For a second my thoughts go to Sean, who didn’t seem to notice it, either.