Ten minutes later, Emi and I hop out of the car in the library's parking lot. Emi's sedan is one of three cars waiting outside.

"Not much activity for a Sunday afternoon," Emi comments.

"Who would go to the library on a Sunday?" I say, incredulous. I must've sounded stronger than I intended because Emi recoils, shrugging.

"I mean, I did when I was in school."

"Oh."

Emi hurries inside while I trail after her, slightly bewildered. I shake off the interaction once inside, focusing instead on the rows upon rows of bookshelves. A librarian sits at the front desk, and tables and chairs are set up among the bookshelves. A mother reads to her daughter quietly at one while her son races between shelves. Emi sits at one of the tables, and I sit across from her.

"So... what's the plan?" Emi sighs.

I peer down at my phone, which has a picture of the clue sheet. I figured walking into a library with a giant folio of scores might seem a little strange.

"The next part of the clue says that we need to walk 'the coda left' into some room."

"How does one walk a coda?" Emi shakes her head. Her mouth stretches in a yawn.

I think for a moment. "Remember when we were in school, and our music theory professor had that exam where we had to walk one rhythm while clapping another one?"

"Oh gosh. Don't remind me."

"Maybe we're supposed to do that." I swipe to the next image on my phone, which displays the coda. "But in the end, I don't see how waiting a certain amount of time between each step will change the room we end up in."

"The number of notes in the coda could be the number of steps to the room. But where do we start?"

I peer around, taking in the room. There's more open space by the entrance and the librarian's desk before the bookshelves crowd the area in the middle and on the sides. Two aisles lead to hallways on the left and right. I crane my neck to see a few doors lining the sides of both halls.

"I think starting from the front entrance and walking to the left is a logical first step." My lips upturn at my bad joke. Emi just rolls her eyes.

"Okay."

Quickly, I count the notes in the coda. "There's forty-two steps."

Emi pushes herself up to standing. "Let's just get this over with."

We walk back to the library's doors. As we pass, the librarian glances up from her book, eyebrows raised. I try to ignore her, like what we're about to do is totally normal.

"How large should our steps be?" Emi whispers.

I shrug. "I don't know, normal?"

Emi rolls her eyes. Together, we start forward, and our steps somehow lock into each other's. I count in my head: one, two, three, four...

Both the woman reading to the children and the librarian look up, curiosity written on their faces. In my peripheral, I notice that a blush tints Emi's cheeks. I focus on the steps opposed to the embarrassment threatening to close in. If I were better dressed, not in a t-shirt and jeans, I might be able to pretend I'm a supermodel walking down a runway. Or maybe not. Similar to my clothes, I'm not high-fashion industry material.

At twenty-three steps, we made it to the hallway. Several doors pass on either side, some conference rooms, others containing more bookshelves.

Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Thirty-five...

We reach the end of the hallway.

"It ends at thirty-five," I sigh.

"So scratch that idea. This is hopeless."

I look back down at my phone. "Maybe we should try walking from the outside curb?"

Emi's brow crumples. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"There's got to be a way to make this work."

"Ugh, fine," Emi groans.

We leave the hallway. A new face peers back at us, a man browsing through some DVDs at the front. Warm air hits us when we leave, the door lightly closing behind us. Thank goodness this one has a spring on it. The last thing we need is more attention drawn to us with a slam-dunk exit.

Again, we step forward, taking normal strides. I pull the door open for Emi, then fall back into step across the green-and-red speckled carpet inside. Three heads turn in our direction. Yeah, I'll definitely get second-hand embarrassment tonight.

This time, we run out of steps right before the hallway inside. Emi groans, then looks around at our audience. They blink at us, their faces blank. We both offer a sheepish grin before Emi's hand closes around my arm, pulling me to sit down in two chairs nearby.

"We can't keep walking across the library like this," Emi whispers.

"Maybe we need to take smaller steps," I say.

"No, not smaller steps. No more stepping."

I unlock my phone, staring again at the Coda. The notes go up a few whole steps, then down a few, up and down all the way through.

An idea flashes in my mind. Quickly, I scan the notes. Excitement builds in me again as I think that I've cracked the pattern.

"Cerise, I think we should—"

I hold up my hand, cutting Emi off. Yes, yes...

I look up from the bottom of the page to see a very annoyed Emi.

Her eyebrows arch in annoyance. "You done?"

"Look! There don't appear to be any half-steps in the coda."

"So?"

"So maybe we're supposed to literally step the whole steps between each note."

"We'd run out of hallway real quick."

"No, but see, what if we're supposed to step forward every time the note goes up the staff and backward every time it goes down?"

"That's ridiculous," Emi scoffs.

"But worth a try." I stand from the chair, headed for the entrance.

"Cerise!" Emi says in a hoarse whisper. I turn back. Emi glances around before mouthing, "there's people around."

"If you don't come, I'm doing this by myself."

"Fine. Make a fool of yourself."

I walk to the front of the library for the third time. My audience has grown by two people; even the kids watch me now. If only my music career could take off like this.

Inhaling a deep breath, I take three steps forward, then two steps back. Four steps forward, one step forward, one step back. By the second measure, my cheeks are on fire. Emi perches her elbow on the chair armrest, holding up her hand to shield her face.

The pattern continues, and slowly, I make my way across the room. At long last, I reach the final measure, landing by the second door in the hallway.

I peer inside the room, at a collection of gray plaid couches and chairs. A few end tables are amongst them, and a bookcase lines the wall in the back, arching over a faux fireplace in the center.

"Did your little experiment find anything?" Emi's dry voice asks behind me. I turn around as she enters. She plops into one of the chairs. "I guess Silverenn is telling us to take a break and rest for a bit."

"I wonder if the library has been updated since the '80s."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because whatever Silverenn wanted us to find in this room might've been moved. In fact, for all we know, the entire building could've been renovated, and this room might be new."

And I could've gone through that whole exercise for nothing.

"Well, why don't you ask?"

I head for the exit. Emi stirs, her back straight and her face sober. "You're not actually going to ask, right?"

"Why not? You suggested it."

"I was kidding."

"And I'm not kidding."

Hopefully, Silverenn is kidding about this treasure, either.

I walk to the librarian's desk. The woman glances at me over her cat-eye glasses.

"Hello, how may I help you?" She has a sugar-coated, soprano voice, either very sweet or very patronizing.

"I was wondering if this library has been renovated in the last forty years."

"Renovated?" Her brow creases. "I don't believe so. Why?"

"I, uh, a friend was curious about what used to be in those rooms down the hall in the 1980s."

"I'm not entirely sure. I'm not that old, you know." She gives a slight chuckle.

"Would you happen to have a layout or something showing what used to be in those rooms?"

"Let me see." The woman clicks on her computer, her long, maroon nails clacking against the keys. She hits enter, scrolls a bit, clicks and types, scrolls a bit. My eyes dart to the hallway, where Emi has emerged from the room. Her lips are pursed, but after a second, she crosses the room to join me.

"Any room in particular?" the woman asks.

"The second room from the hallway's entrance," I say.

"That used to contain maps. They were moved in the 1995 update."

Maps. That's exactly what we need. A prickle of excitement flares in my chest.

"Where are the maps kept now?" I ask.

"Some are in the map room at the end of the hall, but we also have an extensive online database on our library website." She hands me a brochure that has the library's website on the back.

"Thank you," I say. "And in this database, does it say what year each map was acquired or added to the library?"

The librarian nods. "It says the date they were created, acquired, and added to the database."

"Thanks so much."

I head for the exit, drawing final glances from the others browsing the shelves. Emi trails behind me.

"That was humiliating, Cerise," Emi says once we're out in the open.

"Okay, I agree it was a bit over the top. But we got what we needed. The next clue is a map in the library. All we have to do is figure out which one."

"Yeah. All we have to do." Emi shakes her head. "This isn't looking good, Cerise. You have to see that."

"I do? I'm actually feeling more hopeful. The database will help a lot with finding the map, too."

We walk to the car. I open the door, careful to not scrape the side of the beige sedan parked beside us. Emi slides into the driver seat, slotting the keys in the ignition. Her hand remains poised around them for a second before the engine rumbles to life.

"Please, just be more sensitive about doing weird stuff," Emi says.

"Sure." I'm not certain I can keep that promise though, not when we're dealing with Silverenn.