Page 9 of No More Secrets

If only he had a car.

If only she hadn’t chucked her phone out the window at the New Mexico–Arizona border so Ellis couldn’t track her through her mom’s phone. She could call Finn anytime.

She closes her email and pops over to YouTube, elated to see anotherTabby’s Squirrelshort has dropped. After plugging in her earbuds, she watches the clip, copying characters from Jenna Mason’s latest animation into her notebook as her own quirky characters take shape in her mind. Shiloh has dreams, big dreams. Her head bursts with stories.

Months ago, she emailed episode ideas to Jenna forTabby’s Squirrel, but never heard back. That hasn’t stopped her from storyboarding. Animated characters cover the pages of her notebook, from original superheroes to a mad murdering otter. Video animation is her dream. Her imaginary characters kept her company when her mom couldn’t. Before she ran from home, she’d been practicing 2D renderings. Her digital design elective in high school was her favorite class. One day, her own animated feature film will debut. She just doesn’t know how to start or where. She’s too nervous to upload her work to social media, afraid it’s not good enough.

That’s why she needs to get to Hollywood by Saturday. Jenna Mason is signing her books and giving away merchandise at the Grove in Los Angeles. It’s a huge publicity event ahead of the movie’s premiere. Large crowds are expected. But if she can chat with Jenna for even a minute, she could get the advice and encouragement she needs to share her quirky characters with the world. Jenna’s stories helped Shiloh feel less lonely. She wants her own stories and characters to be that for someone else. Someone like her.

Shiloh passes time doodling and watching videos. She peruses the bookstacks and flips through the few graphic novels available to check out. Older editions of The Umbrella Academy and Fables. She’s read them before and will read them again. And when the librarian turns her back, Shiloh nibbles on a fruit strip, making it last. Hunger gnaws ather like a bear stripping meat off a bone. But it’s all she’ll allow herself to eat until tonight.

Three o’clock comes, and Shiloh logs on to her Zoom account, excited to see her guy. She hasn’t seen Finn’s face since their last Interloper chat. She’d called him right after Moonstar offered her a ride and just before she dumped her phone to tell him that she was on her way. That Ellis got too friendly.

Finn wasn’t cool with her hitchhiking, but couldn’t wait for her to arrive. They’d share a bed. They’d make breakfast together in the mornings and gorge on carne asada tacos from the food truck parked around the corner. He’d help her find a job and make connections. His bandmate knows a guy who knows a guy who works at Disney Animation Studios.

Shiloh starts the meeting and waits for Finn to join. She refreshes the screen, chewing the Sharpie cap, and waits some more. Ten minutes go by, and worry seeps in. Is he ghosting her? She spits out the cap. He wouldn’t. He’s crushing on her. But what if he is? He’s the only person she knows in California. Where would she stay? She can’t live on the streets there. She wouldn’t have a chance.

At a quarter past the hour, she sends him an email. She sends another at half past the hour, then again at three forty-five.Where are you?She’s online. She’s waiting. They go unanswered. When it reaches four o’clock, her stomach sour from hunger and despair, she realizes he isn’t joining the meeting.

Her day just went from bad to worse.

Shiloh logs out, clearing her search history. Fighting tears, she yanks off her earbuds, stuffing them in her backpack. He forgot her.

Maybe he was held up at the Vinyl Hub, the vintage record shop where he works, or rehearsal ran late. Maybe his roommate took his laptop, and Finn couldn’t use it. He doesn’t have his own computer or car. He can barely pay his rent, he explained when she asked him to Venmo her money for a bus ticket before she left New Mexico. Heborrows everything, waiting for the day the Sunset Strips have their big break. He plays bass in the band, and when they make it big, he’ll treat her to whatever she wants.

What she wants is to leave this place.

What she needs is a phone.

Shiloh slings on her backpack and approaches the circulation desk. The woman behind the desk sorts books on a cart. She smiles at Shiloh, her brown eyes big behind green-framed lenses. Her oversize teal tunic hits her knees. Underneath, she wears paisley leggings. “May I help you?” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper.

Shiloh clasps her hands on the counter. “Can I borrow your phone?”

The librarian’s gaze dives to the black-office phone on the desk below the counter. “I’m sorry. This phone is for staff only. There’s a pay phone at Maria’s Deli.”

A mile back the way she came.

Shiloh chews her bottom lip, worried. “My friend’s late. He’s supposed to pick me up here, so I can’t leave.” She taps the countertop, her eyes nervously scurrying about, and sighs heavily. She was hoping to talk with Finn about what happened today. He might have an idea on what to do.

“You don’t have a cell phone?”

Shiloh shakes her head. “I dropped it. The screen shattered, and it won’t power on.”

The librarian’s brows meet in the center. “Are you all right, dear? You’ve been here all day. Is there someone I can call for you?”

Her arms tingle with unease at the woman’s concern. “I’m fine,” she says with an uptick to sound better than she feels. If she doesn’t act like her situation is worrisome, the woman won’t think it is. She won’t pry. “I just need... I need to call my friend. Can I use your cell? One call, that’s it. Then I’ll go.”

The librarian’s lips pinch. “Just this once,” she decides, going to her purse. The worn brown-leather bag sits in plain sight on a chair, wideopen. “I don’t usually allow customers to use it. But in this case... I’m worried about you. I’ve seen you here before. How old did you say you were?”

She didn’t. “Eighteen,” she says, itching to dip her hand into the woman’s purse. The overstuffed wallet is right there, dollar bills poking out.

She looks at Shiloh for a beat, her eyes narrowing, and for a second that seems like eons. Shiloh is sure she doesn’t believe her. She’ll call the cops, and they’ll write her up for truancy. But she holds the phone to her face to unlock the screen, and Shiloh lets go of a breath that makes her sound suspiciously relieved. “Here you go.” She gives Shiloh the phone, only to pull it back at the last second. “You’re sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m cool, really.” Just give her the darn phone.

“One call.”

“One call,” Shiloh repeats, taking the phone. She taps in Finn’s number. The librarian hovers close. Shiloh turns around for some privacy and waits for Finn to answer. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she whispers, afraid he won’t because he doesn’t recognize the number.

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