The Inner Circle

I wait for her to smile. To say thanks. Instead, she shakes her head. “You can’t.”

“Sure I can.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Actually…”

“I know your dad’s dead, Benjy,” she says, using the nickname only my mom uses. “You think I don’t remember that? When we were little, you not having a father… You have any idea what that meant to me? How not alone that made me feel?”

The balloon in my throat expands, catching me off guard.

“But to have this chance right now…” She stares down at the old photo-the one of us-still refusing to face the video behind her. “My mom used to tell me that the best part of music-even as a DJ-was that when you go to a new city, you get to be a brand-new person,” she adds. “And I chose Virginia because-all the pictures seemed to have horses in them. Horses are calming, y’know? But then to find out-of all the places I could’ve picked-I’m ten minutes from… from him,” she says, thumbing back at the screen as Nico’s video wraps up. “I’m not saying it’s a sign-but I am saying… maybe some things are meant to be. Like reconnecting with you.” Before I can say a word, she adds, “Besides, I want what’s best for you, Beecher. And right now, bringing you to meet a delusional sociopath-even one who’s been calmed down by medication-is not what your life needs at this moment. This is something I think I’m supposed to do myself.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” she asks.

“Don’t you get it? I want what’s best for you too.”

She looks up at me and grins. “That homemade photograph really made you mushy, didn’t it?” she asks.

“Hey, Beecher! Phone!” one of the staffers calls out from the desk behind us.

“Whoever it is, tell them-”

“It’s Tot. Says not to let you give any lame excuses. Says it’s important. He’s on hold.”

I shake my head, ready to ignore the call.

“He says don’t ignore it!” the aide calls back. “On hold!”

“Just gimme one sec,” I tell Clementine as I grab the phone at the circulation desk, which is just a few feet away.

“What’re you doing with her?” Tot asks before I can even say hello.

“Pardon?”

“Clementine. You went down to buzz her in. That was twenty minutes ago.”

I look over at Clementine, who’s finally turned back to the computer screen, where YouTube has offered a variety of recommendations for the next video to click on. Even from here, I can see what she’s looking at as bits of bright yellow jumpsuit peek out from each video option.

“Is this really that important, Tot?”

“You tell me. I found the cart for your guy Dustin Gyrich,” he says, referring to the last person who requested a copy of Entick’s Dictionary. “Now, do you want to hear his connection to the President or not?”

24

'I’ll call you when I’m done,” Clementine says, stepping away from the computer and heading for the lobby. “I gotta go.”

“Good. Let her,” Tot says through the phone.

“Clemmi, just wait!” I call out as she pulls her coat on.

“Let her be,” Tot says. “Whatever she’s got going on, you’ve got enough disasters to deal with.”

“What’re you talking about?” I ask.

“I told you. Dustin Gyrich.”

“So he’s the last person to request the…” I look around, and I swear, in this wide mint green room, every person, from the old ladies to the young grad student, is looking directly at me.

“Yeah… to request the dictionary,” Tot says in my ear. “That’s the thing, though. At first I thought it was odd that he just happened to request the dictionary on the exact same day that President Wallace was here for his reading tour. But when I pulled the full record, well… Dustin Gyrich-whoever he is-has requested Entick’s Dictionary fourteen different times, which isn’t that unusual-”

“Get to the point, Tot.”

“The point is, when I matched Gyrich’s dates up with a calendar, guess who else happened to be visiting this very building on every one of those days? I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with President.”

Across from me, Clementine buttons the top button on her coat and turns toward the main lobby to leave.

“Just wait,” I whisper to her. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“You’ll be way more than a minute,” Tot says through the phone. “Unless you’re no longer understanding the bad news I’m delivering.”

“Thirty seconds,” I promise Clementine.

She pauses a moment, like she really does want to wait. But as she did when the red curtain went up during the Battle of the Bands, Clementine stands there a moment, lifts her chin, and buries all her fears in whatever place she’s come to keep them. The difference is, she’s no longer facing testy tenth graders. She’s facing her father. The destroyer.

“I’ll be okay,” she insists, even though I didn’t ask her. Her eyes blink quicker than usual, just like when she flinched at those gunshots. Before I can argue, she’s headed down the hallway, past the security desk, and through the automatic doors that take her outside into the cold. I look down at the homemade photograph of our younger selves. It’s the second time in two days that I realize I’m seeing the soft side of her no one else knows. The part she shares with no one. Ever since Iris… I forgot how good a simple crush can feel.

But it’s not just the crush. There are some people in your life who bring back old memories. And there are others-your first kiss, your first love, your first sex-who, the moment you see them, bring a spark… and something far more potent. They bring back your old life and, with that, potential. And possibilities. And the feeling that if you were back in that time, life could be so very different from where you’re stuck right now. That’s the most tantalizing thing Clementine offers. I want my potential back.

“You hearing me, Beecher?” Tot shouts in my ear. “Over the past four months, every single time the President of the United States has come to this building, this guy Gyrich takes this copy of the dictionary-”

“Wait, wait, wait. I thought we weren’t sure if the copy we found in the”-I lower my voice-“in the SCIF was the same one from our collection.”

“And for the second time, are you hearing me? Where do you think I’ve been for the past half hour? I went down and pulled Gyrich’s cart. He’s got twelve items on hold here, but-what a coincidence-there’s only eleven on the cart. So guess which one’s missing? That’s right-one copy of Entick’s Dictionary.”

“I don’t know, does that really tell us that the Archives copy is the same as the beat-up one we have?” I ask, still watching through the glass of the automatic doors. Out by the curb, Clementine hails herself a cab. “The one we found doesn’t have identifying information, or a stamp, or even most of its own pages,” I say. “Would the Archives really keep something that beat up and let it get checked out over and over again?”

“That’s fine-and we can look into that,” Tot agrees. “But it doesn’t change the fact that fourteen weeks in a row, every time President Wallace comes here to visit-every single time-Gyrich requests the dictionary, puts it on hold, and makes sure it’s out of general circulation. When it happens two times, that’s dumb luck. Three times? That’s a very weird fluke. But fourteen times in fourteen weeks?” His voice goes quiet. “That’s a plan.”

He’s right. He’s always right. But as I watch Clementine duck into her cab, there’s a surprising new feeling tugging at my ribcage.