Free Anonymity by Janna McMahan Page A

of your things here, young lady?” a kindly older woman asked her from behind a high counter. Lorelei hesitated. She'd learned never to be separated from her possessions.
    “Do I have to?”
    “It's library policy—no bedrolls,” the lady said. “I don't usually do this, but yours looks nice and clean, so I'll keep it behind the desk with my things if you like. Otherwise you'll be asked to leave. Don't worry. I'll take good care of it. You can keep your pack.”
    Lorelei saw she was being offered a kindness, and she reluctantly handed over her new sleeping bag. Now she understood the lone gypsy guarding the pile of possessions outside.
    She found the graphic novel section and read two in an hour. While her mother had always wanted her to read books like Anne of Green Gables and Little Women , she'd always been attracted to the action adventure panels of Manga and comic books. Her mother called them boy books, but Lorelei didn't think art of any kind had a gender bias. She just liked more contemporary story lines with situations and problems that could apply to a girl like her.
    She could only add the weight of one book to her already heavy load, so she decided to reread Twilight. She loved the descriptions of Washington state, so much like the Oregon she had run away to. She understood clumsy, pale Bella and her emotionally clumsy parents. But what she liked most of all was the love story of Edward and Bella, love that was pure, without restrictions or conditions. That was what parents were supposed to have for their children—unconditional love. What a joke. Parental love came with nothing but conditions.
    Lorelei found a large paperback edition of Twilight and approached the front desk. A different volunteer was behind the circulation desk. The new woman slid her a library card application. Lorelei quickly filled it out and handed it back. The woman began to enter information into the computer. Her eyes fell upon the address and she stopped typing and gave Lorelei a quick disapproving glance.
    With clipped efficiency, the woman scanned Lorelei's new library card. The volunteer printed out a return sheet, slid it inside the book and snapped the cover closed.
    “This book is due back in two weeks,” the woman said. “It's a high demand book, so please return it so others can enjoy it as well.”
    Lorelei thanked her and headed to retrieve her bedroll from the other desk. As she walked away she heard the woman say to no one in particular, “Well, we'll never see that book again.”
    That night, after mending the sleeping bag, Lorelei propped up against a log, switched on her flashlight and began to read. This would be her third time reading Twilight. At home, she had borrowed a girlfriend's copy and hidden it under her bed. She knew her parents wouldn't approve, even though Stephanie Meyer was LDS too. Mormons were a diverse group, a confusing thing for a kid.
    Mook and Elda were gone somewhere, probably somewhere warm, but the others had set up camp again. Freestyle was slumped in a rotten lawn chair, one of his eyes ringed like a raccoon. College boys had jumped him.
    Minion picked out Green Day's Good Riddance on the strings of an old guitar.
    He sang, “I hope you had the time of your life.”
    Lorelei always liked the song, particularly the part about tattoos of memories.
    When she felt the tug of sleep, she snuggled down into the comforting confinement of the sleeping bag. One advantage to sleeping bags was she could stuff her things into the bottom and not worry that someone would steal them while she slept.
    She was soon dreaming about walking to school through powdery snow a foot deep. Above her, slate-gray mountains pushed against a blue, blue sky. Her breath grew short, and she struggled through deeper and deeper drifts. Snowbanks rose around her ten feet high. She fell. She got up and trudged on. She fell again. She hurt her hand.
    She jolted awake. Pain seared her fingers and up her arm. She screamed