The Library

Growing up in a large city, I could always find trouble to get into when my parents had to work late.  There were concerts, plays, sporting events, everything I could want to do to get some attention.  It wasn’t until I walked through the front doors of the public library that I realized what I had been missing all along.  They had books about the artists I was so interested in and once the librarian had answered too many questions about art history from me, she brought up the fact I could check out a pass to get into the local museums for free. 

The only thing I needed to do was to get a library card.  If I told my parents what I was really doing while they were still at work, they would never leave me alone again.  They thought I was at church, praying, in all my free time.  Though they never seemed to question the fact no one at church could ever remember my name.  Three weeks later, my parents finally caught onto my act. My mom had gotten off early from work and came looking for me at church. Instead, she found me walking out of the library with books and a museum pass. From that moment on, I became the most babysat seventeen-year-old in my high school. But they didn’t know about the secret trap door in the basement. The one that led me to one of my greatest triumphs and ultimately, my death.