But he kept glancing at me, clearly annoyed, so I turned to go.

“Wait,” he barked. “I have a question.”

I turned back. “Yeah?”

“The library,” he said. “Do you know its hours? Nothing in this godforsaken town has a website.”

“Eight to eight, Monday through Saturday. Closed on Sundays,” I told him. I wasn’t just a fountain of helpful Moose Junction facts. I also loved the library. It was one of those safe, sacred spaces where I could run away to Narnia or Middle-earth or Hogwarts, curled up in one of its cozy beanbags, pretending Blair knew how to eat and my friends were still my friends and Jade didn’t hate me. The librarian, Harriet, was one of my favorite people in the universe. The fact that Dr. Leo Lacamoire might be a library person, though, I hadn’t seen coming. We were kind of a dying breed, in the age of Google and tablets and free shipping. Not many people wanted to flip through a paperback that had someone else’s hot chocolate stains on chapter four.

“Thanks,” he said shortly, turning back to his maps.

“I’ll . . . I’ll tell Dad not to bother you when he gets here,” I said. “Just to fix the hole.”

Dr. Leo Lacamoire nodded, not even looking up.

I bounded back down the stairs and out the door, letting it bang closed behind me. Dad was sitting in the office, typing on a calculator.

“I told him,” I said. “He’s working upstairs, though. Said not to bug him. Just fix the hole.”

“Got it,” said Dad. “I caught your mom just before she left the hardware store, luckily.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, pointing toward the calculator.

“Oh, just moving some numbers around,” sighed Dad. “That meeting last night was . . . well, there’s not enough money in the world, Abby. That’s all there is to it.”

I shook my head. “Taylor Swift? Hello, Dad. Some people can fly to Paris to get dessert just because they feel like it.”

“I think that was Kim What’s-Her-Face,” Dad said.

“Kardashian. You know her name,” I said. Dad liked to pretend he didn’t read the gossipy tabloids Jade left in the office, even though he clearly did.

“Well, fine. Sure. But think of the kids in parts of the world who don’t even know where dinner is coming from. Kids in Milwaukee, even. Kids down the road. Money can be hard to find,” Dad said. “And our town doesn’t have enough of it. Everything’s taking a hit. If you guys want art classes next year, if you want the library to stay open—”

“What?” The library couldn’t close. The thought of living in a town without a library made my skin crawl.

“This eclipse better be everything they say,” Dad said. “We’re booked to capacity. So are Paul Bunyan’s and Cubby Lodge. Even the Blue Moon Motel.” We both shivered. Let’s just say when you drove past the Blue Moon Motel, you wondered who would ever stay there. The owner, Harvey, wore those creepy white tank tops all the time, even in November.