Emma Jean was pacing up and down the dark aisle of the History section in the library. She wanted be alone, comfortable and safe. Home had her mother and father, always standing around, saying how worried they were about her. Outside, it was hot. It was equivalency of standing directly on the sun with plastic flipflops from the bin at the dollar store as your only protection hot. And there were people outside, namely those people who had come looking for her and Edith and the key. There was no other option but the library for all three of her requirements.
Emma Jean had seen the couple in black walking by, looking long and hard into the window of the comic store as if Captain America's latest (three month old) issue interested them. Somehow she knew who they were, even though she didn't recognize them, and she was sure they didn't recognize her either.
Even so, Emma had turned the flirtatious personality on to eleven. Head-nerd Chase Brennan actually thought he had a chance. He'd asked her out, in that adorable stammer he had. But once Emma had seen the couple in black move on at last, she patted his cheek with a sad smile, saying, "Bless your heart," which was Southern for a lot of things and none of them were "Sure, I'll go out with you."
She'd left work early, which pissed off Monroe, until she threatened to quit and he backed off. Chase Brennan had stared after her in shock.
Old Man Farley had cornered her a half-block from the library. She had backed away from him until he shouted at her to stop. "Do you want to make a scene, Emma?" He said in a low voice once she had done as he'd asked. She glanced around. There were two or three unfortunate souls walking around in the Southern afternoon heat.
"I don't want to be near you right now. After all those times…"
"That was my father. And my grandfather. You think I would turn to this willingly?" He held up the paper-bag wrapped bottle in his hand.
"You did, Roger. You did turn to it willingly."
"God dammit, Alma-Ann, I'm trying to make amends!"
Emma had lifted her hand to the church, which as always, was right there. The center of town indeed. "Then go see Pastor Tom, and pray for absolution or whatever it is they do." She jabbed at finger at him, spitting the words, rather than speaking them. "God might forgive you, but I won't. And don't ever, ever, call me Alma-Ann again. My name is Emma Jean." He mumbled behind her as she turned to flee. She didn't run though. She couldn't let him see how much he still frightened her after all those years. Sure, he wasn't his father…or his grandfather, but the fact that he shared their DNA and their last name made him just as much an enemy.
"They are here." He called after her.
"I know," Emma Jean said, still walking.
"You'll die!" He said, and his voice sounded remorseful at that.
"I know." She said again, in a whisper that he couldn't have possibly heard.
Emma Jean took out her phone the moment she was in the dark comfort of the library, completely ignoring the sign that read NO CELL PHONES in big bold letters. The first number she dialed was her parents. They didn't answer, but they were probably hanging around their pool. She left a message, saying she would be home late this evening, and not to hold dinner. They wouldn't.
The next number she had dialed was Edith's. If Farley knew about them, then Edith would too. After all those years, he still held a candle for her. He lit up when she was around. Which wasn't often, not anymore. Since Gregory died, Edith had withdrawn slowly from everyone. She made her rounds to keep up appearances; she went to church because it was expected, not because she believed anymore.
She was a little surprised that Edith answered, but she seemed to be keeping quiet too. Perhaps she didn't want Kai to overhear. Emma sighed. Of course, this time around, it had to be complicated.
"Did you know, Edy?" She asked, trying to rein in her anger. She wasn't angry at Edith. Not really. Maybe a little, but she was angry at her for getting old, for failing to pass the Key on already. It wasn't fair and it wasn't her fault.
"Farley told me only a few hours ago, Emma...and the scarecrows were on the move."
Emma Jean shuddered as the mention of the scarecrows brought a whole slew of memories down on her. The Key had taken care of that problem years ago, though, right? She only had to die for it to learn how. No big deal. Edith was old, but she was tough. She was concerned, though, for Kai. "Did they-"
"No. The dog stopped them."
"Oh, good. Dog? What dog?" Fantastic, so there was another wrinkle. A dog. She wondered if Edith had showed off her Doctor Dolittle skills yet. "No, it doesn't matter." And then the real concerns surfaced. "What have you told Kai?"
"Very little. You should come out here, Emma. Come and help me do this."
No. Emma Jean almost shouted through the phone. Edith, Emma and the Key all in the same place with the Company poking around? And there were scarecrows about? They would not only be asking for trouble, they would be sending it the clichéd engraved invitation.
Come to think of it, why was the Company poking around right now anyway? She had three more years. Three years. She could be a senior again, and graduate again. She could go to prom again. Perhaps she would get into Yale again. No…maybe she would try Princeton this year. She could finally, finally go on a date with someone who actually meant something. This was all the same as before. And it was all brand new too.
"Why now, Edy? Have we done something differently? Do you think the Key knows that you want to pass it on? Maybe it...maybe it is growing stronger now in order to protect Kai too." The Key was as much a mystery to her as it was to Edith. It was part of her, but a part that had its own mind, and she didn't pry into it. That was up to Edith to learn. She was the Gatekeeper, after all, and Emma Jean was just…well, she was Emma Jean.
"You know how unpredictable they have become since Althea. And the Key as well."
"I'm not ready, Edy." No she was not ready. How did one get ready for something so…final. She would be back of course. The cycle never stopped. But she wouldn't be her, she wouldn't be Emma Jean anymore. She turned over her wrist, looking at the small infinity symbol she had tattooed on her wrist. How poignant. It was the first she had gotten. She had to flirt heavily with a large bearded man who might have been as old as her father, but had wandering eyes and a weakness for the damsel in distress type. So she played to it. She would, to get what she wanted. She vaguely wondered what the next Her would do. She doubted that She would be so bold.
"Neither am I." Edith had said, interrupting her thoughts. "Emma, please at least consider it. Talking to Kai. You…you know more about being a teenager than I do. And you know how to speak to him."
"I don't know him, Edy. I talked to him for like, ten minutes, before he left."
Edith faltered, but then her voice perked up a little. "He's like his father."
It was a ploy, perhaps, to dredge up old memories. It was working. "That's not fair, Edy." Emma Jean mumbled, sighing heavily. "He's not Ivan." She sunk to the floor, leaning up against the shelf behind her. "He just…he looks so much like him. And Edward too. It's not fair."
"Please, Emma."
"No, Edith." And then she looked up at the librarian who stood there with her arms crossed and foot tapping, pointing at the NO CELL PHONES sign. Emma Jean sneered at her, standing slowly, and walked from the library with the phone still on her ear and the librarian hot on her heels. "I have to go," she said, as she pushed open the door. The hot air hit her like a wall. She hung up the phone, waiting a moment before peering through the glass door. She watched the librarian disappear into a back room and silently crept back inside, angling for the History section this time.
She chose the History section at random to do her pacing, because of the irony she found in it, and because no one outside of student researching for papers went there. Occasionally stopping to pluck a title that interested her, she would flip through the pages, and then replace it in a completely different area. So far, she'd shelved the history of the Spanish American War with the studies of the Mesolithic era, and the books on the Berlin Wall with the books on the Great Wall, cause, hey, they were both walls. She was busy reshelving a tome on Medieval England with a concise Roman history series when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket, furrowing her brow at the number. Edith again? What could she possibly want now?
"Edy, I'm in the library. They frown against phone use here."
