Epilogue

It was a cool autumn day when I decided to return to Barnswell. I had always loved the fall and that day was no exception. The bronze sun shone brightly and I heard the crunch of crisp leaves underneath me. The trees were a variety of colors: red, orange, yellow, and brown. It was simply beautiful in the way that only nature could be.

I spotted an old building and I limped towards it. I hadn't seen it since I was a teenager many years ago, but I knew exactly what it was, even though it had changed.

Barnswell Library and Historical Site.

The building itself was a lot larger than it was when I was young. There was a second floor now and there were several expansions. That wasn't the biggest change though. When I was young, it was a small hangout for the outcasts of the world. Now it was the place to be, a fusion of new and old. I was to blame for all of that. In fact, there was a petition at one point to rename it the Isabelle Prescott Library. I didn't want that, but I knew I had left my mark on this little town.

And now I was coming home again.

I knew I had changed too. Besides my hair fading from brown to grey, I now had three grown children and a husband. None of them had any interest in visiting my hometown, but I hoped a few of my friends might be here. I was a retired game designer, a career I had found fascinating for many years.

I thought of all of the people who had made an impact on my life. My sister Olivia was a teacher and now had several kids of her own. I always appreciated her enthusiasm for everything she did, even when she got on my nerves. My brother Jimmy became a scientist, oddly enough. Dr. James Prescott certainly made his mark on the world; he even won the Nobel Prize. Unfortunately, his rebellious past did him in. Jimmy had died of lung cancer several years earlier. Tears dripped from my eyes as I thought of him. He had been so nice to me over the years. I missed him so much. And then there was Candace. She was the CEO of an advertising firm for quite some time, finally putting her business skills to use. I hoped to see her at Barnswell, but I wasn't sure since she was so busy and lived so far away.

I opened the door. The inside of the building was far too modern for my taste, but it was okay. I was glad Barnswell was still here. There were people sitting at tables chatting, wandering through the bookshelves, and standing in line to check out books. I walked up to the checkout desk and read the plaque next to it.

Barnswell Library and Historical Site was almost demolished in 2014, but due to fundraising efforts led by Isabelle Prescott, Samina Yousif, and Candace Whittaker, the library will stand for many more years to come. These three teenagers serve as a reminder that anyone can make a difference in our community.

I smiled. That was us. I had done this. I knew I was probably the only one in the room who knew what it was like when that plaque hadn't been there, but I didn't care. I was proud of myself for doing this.

I spotted Samina reading in a corner. "Hello," I said.

"Isabelle!" she exclaimed. She slowly got up and gave me a hug. "It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. It's been so long."

"I remember when it was just us who visited here regularly," Samina said.

"Me too. It was just us and the books. Those were good times."

"They were. They sure were."

I smiled. Samina and I understood. We were the saviors of the broken, the beaten, and the damned. We would carry on.