Don’t you hate books that end every chapter suspensfully? Me too. Sometimes in trying not to be the thing you hate, you become that thing. I’m sorry for this, but hey, at least I kept you interested—or maybe not. Sorry again in either case.

In retrospect, making “we need to talk about the body in your trunk” probably was not the best code word. Now I know what you’ve thinking…“code word? What a cheap trick!” Perhaps, but you probably still want to know about why we in fact need a code word, and why in Sam’s sweet jam did we pick “the body in your trunk”—I mean, that’s not a code word, that’s a code sentence. Well let me explain things a little better. Libraries are booming, busy places to be.

Don’t laugh, they are…well sometimes—okay, fine, I’m just making the ‘busy’ stuff up entirely—are you happy now? Good.

Busy or not, one thing librarians and three-eyed people alike realized quickly was they needed a secret code word for when they needed to say something in private. The whole “body in your truck” thing was supposed to be said jokingly, but the three-eyed people never said it like that.

I don’t know who thought of the code word (or sentence), but it was certainly a foolish idea. Oh well. There is a story that the code phrase was thought up after watching some kind of mafia movie, but that’s just a rumor—never confirmed. Not that it matters.

So back to the story, and more specifically why Gatsby needed to talk with me in such a private fashion.

Gatsby led me to a small room not far from the library. There were no chairs or tables or anything for that matter—it was completely empty except for a small sign that said, “Conference Room.”

Gatsby shut the door and took seat on the floor. He motioned for me to sit as well. When I did, he said curiously, “So about that body in your trunk…”

I rolled my eyes and lectured, “I’ve told you a million times to say the code word jokingly.”

Gatsby nodded and said seriously, “So about the body in the trunk.” He paused then added dryly, “Ha, ha, ha.”

“Funny—so what is it you need to say?”

“The boy.”

I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I asked irritated, “What about the boy?”

“Are you so hung up on yourself that you have stopped to wonder what we should do about him?”

“I’m not hung up on myself.”

“Well you can be.”

“Cannot.”

“Can.”

“Not.”

“Can.”

“Not, not.”

Gatsby rolled his eyes and said, “Fine, your not—now there’s still the matter of the boy.”

“The boy?”

“For Pete’s sake. You remember his sad sob tale? We can’t send him back to an empty home.”

“Oh that.” Now the thought had not completely escape me. I had been thinking about it, but to be honest, I had no idea what to do with him. Certainly there would have to be a plan, but I did not know what.

“That.”

“Well what do you think we should do?”

“I’m open to suggestions—you’re the librarian, after all. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

“Well you’re the one with three eyes—aren’t you supposed to see things more clearly?”

Gatsby nodded. “We need to contact the authorities.”

I nodded. “Not here though. I’ll take him back.”

He nodded. “We need to make sure he gets in a good home—it’s important that they live close and he doesn’t have to change schools.”

“That’s all a matter for the authorities to decide.”

“Then put it upon yourself to make those things happen.”

I didn’t reply to this. I looked at Gatsby third eye and noticed for the first time the intensity in it. He was quite serious about this. There was almost a hint of rage inside that eye.

Honestly, I didn’t know then why Gatsby was so personally involved in the child. All of it will make sense later. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t believe it will make sense later. In fact now that I think about it this whole chapter was written just to kill time.

Here’s what happened. I had ten minutes until my favorite television show came on, and I said to myself, well you better get in at least ten more minutes of writing before you call it a day. The thing was, however, my mind was pretty fried. I didn’t want to go into Jake leaving yet, and there wasn’t anything else to write about. But then it hit me…not literally of course. I said to myself, “Hey why not stall a bit by writing a chapter about Gatsby conversation to you which may or may not mean something to the story by the tales end.” And I thought, “What a great idea.”

So this whole chapter was more than likely a complete waste of your time. I’m truly sorry if you had something better to do, and I prevented you from doing it. Understand, however, that I said “more than likely” which is a vague phrase and could very well mean it does in fact have something to do with the end…or not.

Your not satisfy with this are you? You want to know why Gatsby was so personally involved don’t you? Fine, I’ll tell you—but it’s embarrassing. Do you really want me to embarrass myself? Oh—it’s like that, then? I thought you liked me just a little more than that. Fine, have it your way. Gatsby was so personally involved because I wasn’t. Are you happy now?

Well now that I told you that much, then I might as well explain the rest of it. No sense leaving you hanging. So here’s the deal: About to weeks before Jake had even seen the tree in the back of the library, Gatsby saw Jake. He had come into the library because he needed me to sign for the delivery. Jake was sitting near the front of the library reading a chapter book. He knew the boy had a problem, and he knew I wouldn’t do anything about the problem unless he helped me do so.

Three-eyed people are terribly concerned with the world at large, but when they see something wrong, they stop at nothing to stop it. As soon as he saw Jake, he knew what his problems were and he took it upon himself to fix it. He even figured out what time he came to the library and made sure the van arrived at the same time, because he knew he’d go snooping. And when he did go snooping, he and Arthur took their time getting to the van, so he’d have plenty of time to think he had hidden himself well.

So there you have it. Now are you happy? Can I stop the chapter now? Thank you.