She listened for it carefully, but the hours passed, and no one called out to her. The longer she waited, the more uncertain she became about what she had heard. Perhaps she had only imagined it after all. Perhaps the shadows and the overall creepiness of the Stacks had combined to make her think she was hearing a voice that wasn’t there. By midday, she was feeling so disillusioned about it that when Thom declared almost an hour early that it was lunchtime, she didn’t even bother to argue. Seated across from each other at the wooden table in the otherwise empty kitchen, they ate their soup and bread and drank their milk in silence. Finally, Thom said, “You’re not still mad at me for yesterday, are you?” She stared at him, uncomprehending. Yesterday? Had he done something? “When I told you I didn’t want you going back into the Stacks by yourself?” he added helpfully. “Oh, that!” she declared, remembering now. “No, I’m not mad about that. I wasn’t mad then, either.
