Free In the Unlikely Event... by Saxon Bennett

Coffee Crash Burnout is like an AA meeting where everyone sits around and tells stories about their caffeine addiction and what led to it and how they are handling a caffeine-free life. Lesbian Mannerial Proclivities is kind of complicated, and it involves a lot of role-playing activities,” Gloria said.
    “Yikes,” Gitana said.
    Chase hoped that Lacey wouldn’t put her in any of those classes as a punishment for insurrection.
    “It probably helped that I put a sign up that said the library is closed for dusting,” Bud informed them as she dug around in her backpack.
    “Dusting?” Chase said. “And people believed that?”
    “I’ve discovered that most people believe most of what they are told—giving very little thought to the actual problem or incident. The media and the powers-that-be tell them something is one way or another and they believe it. You’d be surprised at how much disinformation is taken as absolute truth, especially by the talk radio crowd. No one really spends any time reflecting on a subject—it’s absolutely reprehensible,” Bud said.
    Gloria stood wide-eyed. “Is she like a genius or something?”
    Chase gave Bud an I-told-you-so look.
    Bud shrugged and pulled out her TM900 camcorder. She started filming.
    Gitana confessed. “She is extremely advanced for her age.”
    Donna, normally the sane, well-mannered one, hissed, “Yes, Bud is a genius, and yes, the state of the world is essentially an idiocracy in the making, and yes, library usage is statistically in decline, but right now the only thing that is of any FUCKING importance is getting Chase out of that chair.”
    As if on cue, Bud zoomed in on Chase and the chair and then moved behind her so she got the handcuff in view.
    “She’s right,” Gitana said, checking her watch. “It’s eleven thirty. I’m sure no matter how angry Lacey is, she will send you lunch.”
    “What exactly are you doing?” Chase asked, watching as Bud panned the group.
    “I’m creating a docudrama of our lives,” Bud said, setting the camcorder on the edge of a carrel and coming to Gloria’s side.
    Gloria and Bud simultaneously put their hands on their hips and studied the chair. If Bud had had on a dark blue Dickies uniform with her name on the pocket, she’d have looked just like Gloria’s maintenance apprentice.
    “I don’t think this is going to work,” Gloria said to Bud, who shook her head resignedly.
    “Not with our current time constraints,” Bud agreed.
    Chase whirled around as best she could. “What does that mean? I’m going to spend the rest of my life in a chair. How am I going to pee?”
    She shouldn’t have brought that up because her bladder took the hint.
    “Stop it!” Gitana said.
    “Stop what?” Chase said.
    “The panic attack you are about to have,” Gitana replied.
    “Oh, that.” Chase took some deep breaths like Dr. Robicheck had instructed her to in an effort to stave off the impending panic attack. She inhaled, held it for five seconds and then tried to visualize her lungs pushing the air out. This usually made her dizzy, which stopped the panic attack because she focused on not fainting instead of panicking—a classic diversionary tactic.
    “I think we need to remove her from the premises and then work on the chair,” Donna said.
    As if to accentuate Donna’s point, the oversized wood doors of the library opened and they heard Lacey’s voice. “I think we’ve given her enough time to reconsider her errant behavior.”
    One thing Chase could say for Lacey was that ever since she’d become a dictator her vocabulary had improved.
    “I wouldn’t be certain about that. She’s a loose cannon,” Chino said.
    “You don’t know how much she hates the Norton Anthology of Early American Literature, ” Lacey said.
    Gitana, Donna and Gloria stood frozen. It was Bud, who, with the quick reflexes of a child, took action. “Grab the chair. We’ve got to move, now.” She pointed to the rear exit that