Chapter 1 — Second Floor Library Girl

Nguyen Bao Ngoc stepped off the bus at the stop in front of the school gate with the expression of someone who had just been sent to the wrong address by life.

The bus braked suddenly, causing the canvas bag on her shoulder to slide down to her elbow. A sticky rice seller on the side of the road looked at her, then looked at her clean white shoes, and asked:

“You just moved here?”

"Yes."

"Then go quickly. When the drum rings for class, the supervisor looks at you like someone who owes you money."

Ngoc thanked her and ran through the An Hoa school gate. She has never had to run because of a drum sound. At her old school, the driver always brought her there ten minutes before class, and her mother's secretary often called to say the class had changed rooms. Here, people look at the bulletin board, ask each other questions, find their own way, and if they get lost, they can only bear it.

Ngoc likes that, even though she doesn't know how long she will survive.

She had agreed with her father that she would transfer to a public school during the last semester of eleventh grade. No butler, no driver, no family club membership. Father called it "a year of getting used to reality". Ngoc called it "a year of being deprived of the right to choose but having to show gratitude".

Her mother said more lightly: “You can see this as an opportunity to know yourself when no one knows your last name.”

Ngoc did not object. She only asked for one thing: no one at school should know that she is the daughter of Nguyen Duc Thanh, owner of An Nhien, a publishing house that owns a chain of textbooks and five large bookstores. Father agreed, on the condition that she not lie if asked directly.

It sounded simple until she realized she didn't know how to answer the question "What do you do at home?".

Class 11A3 is located at the end of building B. The homeroom teacher, Ms. Hanh, introduced Ngoc by her full name but did not add a biography. Twenty pairs of eyes looked up, quickly scanning the well-fitting uniform, low-tied hair, and logo-less canvas bag. A male student at the back of the class whispered something that made the people around him laugh.

“I sit at the third table, next to Minh Chau,” Ms. Hanh said.

Minh Chau pulled out his chair and pointed to the stack of notebooks next to him. “Just put things in here. But if your handwriting is too beautiful, I will feel pressured.”

“My handwriting is bad.”

“Then we will progress together.”

Ngoc sat down. Minh Chau's first words made her breathe easier than a solemn greeting.

The first activity period of the week passed with announcements about labor, test schedules and school-level reading competitions. When Ms. Hanh mentioned the library on the second floor, the whole class had a look on their faces as if they had just heard that the cafeteria was out of tea.

“The library needs you two to be on duty after school,” she said. “Who signed up?”

No arms lifted.

Pham Quoc Bao, the boy sitting behind Ngoc, pretended to bend down to tie his shoelaces even though his shoelaces were glued.

“Bao,” Ms. Hanh called.

“I'm responsible for the shoes, miss.”

"I've been responsible for it since the beginning of the year. It's still not cleaner."

The whole class laughed. Bao turned to Ngoc and said very softly:

"Don't look up. Anyone who looks up is easily chosen."

Ngoc turned to face the window.

Tran Tuan Phuc's arm was raised in the other row. He was in no hurry, just raised it like someone who knew he would be called no matter where he hid.

“I can be on duty Tuesday and Thursday,” Phuc said. “After school, I sell sandwiches, so if the library closes before five o'clock, that's fine.”

“There is a second and fourth case,” Ms. Hanh asked.

No one moved. Minh Chau looked at Ngoc and said nothing His eyes had a very clear question mark.

Ngoc raised her hand.

Bao turned down and looked at her like he was looking at someone who had just voluntarily walked into a trap.

“I'm on duty Monday and Wednesday,” Ngoc said.

"Good. You two will receive your keys after the last period," Ms. Hanh concluded.

Phuc looked at her for a moment. Not a look of thanks, nor doubt. It was like the eyes of someone who was considering whether she would give up after a few days.

After class, Ngoc followed Ms. Hanh up the back stairs. Block B is older than she thought. The walls are painted light yellow, the stairs are worn in the middle, and the handrails have pen marks that are not completely erased. The second floor opens to a narrow hallway, at the end of which is a wooden door with a sign "READING ROOM — KEEP QUIET".

When Ms. Hanh inserted the key, the door made a long sound like an old person warming up his knees.

Dust flies in the sunlight. Bookshelves run along the four walls, many empty shelves, a few stacks of books stacked sideways, a ceiling fan standing still with three layers of dust on its blades. In the corner of the room there is a cream-colored whiteboard. On the board there are still words from last year: "Books returned on time are good qualities."

Phuc walked in behind Ngoc and took off his mask. He coughed twice.

“This room is not quiet,” he said. “It holds dust.”

Ms. Hanh gave each person a set of keys. "There are few users in the library because everyone thinks it's old. If you two want to rearrange it, I will ask the school for permission. But don't throw away the books arbitrarily."

“What about torn books?” Ngoc asked.

"Mark it, make a list, wait for my approval. There are books that I thought I could get rid of, but there are still people who need them."

Phuc put his hands on the shelf. “Do you have a list of books to borrow?”

"Yes. In the librarian's desk."

“Then I'll see tomorrow afternoon.”

Ms. Hanh went down first. Ngoc looked around, not knowing where to start. At home, someone started to help her with everything. Her father's office has an assistant to classify documents, the family library has management software, and the books she wants to read are often placed on the table.

Phuc took a towel from the drawer and gave it to her.

"You clean the shelf on the left. Don't clean the top shelf, the dust falling on your hair looks very old."

“You ever did?”

"I once had dust fall on noodles. From there I have experience."

Ngoc received the towel. “Have you worked at the library long?”

"Two months. Ms. Hanh said I had enough writing to read so I handed over the notebook."

“Your handwriting is bad.”

Phuc looked at her. “You've only met me for less than a day and are already evaluating my handwriting?”

“I saw it in the book.”

"Ah. So you peeked at the file."

“I looked out of curiosity.”

“Curiosity is the polite name for peeping.”

Ngoc wanted to argue, but realized he was right. She turned to wipe the shelves. A small spider ran from behind the dictionary, causing her to jump back in surprise. Phuc quickly held the chair before she bumped into it.

“Are you afraid of spiders?”

“No. I just respect its personal space.”

“So this room seems to respect you a lot.”

Ngoc burst out laughing before keeping a straight face.

The two worked until nearly five o'clock. They collected three trash bags, an empty pencil box, seven old student ID cards and one sandal that no one claimed. Phuc put the slipper on the table.

“Lost item.”

“No one will come back to claim this slipper.”

"You don't know. Some people wear the same slipper for half a day before realizing it."

“You ever do that?”

"It's not me. It's Bao."

Phuc locked the door. Ngoc put her cloth bag back on. He asked her how she got home.

"Bus."

Phuc looked at her shoes, then looked out the gate. “You know which station Not yet?"

"Know. Station in front of the gate.”

“There are two stations in front of the gate.”

Ngoc stood still.

Phuc exhaled and pointed towards the small road. “The station on the left goes towards the market. The station on the right goes towards the bridge. You have to look at the board, not at the people.”

“I made a mistake this morning.”

“I can guess.”

“How do you guess?”

“You get off the bus at this stop with the look on your face of someone who just went through a failed negotiation.”

Ngoc was about to object, but the bus had already arrived. She followed Phuc to the correct station. Before getting in the car, he said:

“Wear a mask tomorrow. And don't wear a sweater. The second floor is as hot as a steamer.”

Ngoc nodded. The bus moved, she looked through the window and saw Phuc returning to the school, walking towards the small bread stall next to the side gate.

In the evening, my father called to ask how the first day was. Ngoc lay on the bed, her hair still smelled of book dust.

“I accepted the library duty job.”

"Good. Do you have any friends?”

“There was a friend who spoke very annoyingly.”

“So you have someone to talk to.”

Ngoc was silent for a moment. Father continued asking:

“Do you need a ride?”

"Are not. I take the bus.”

“If it rains, call Uncle Vinh.”

“I know.”

“Bao Ngoc.”

"Yes?"

“If it doesn't feel right, you can come back at any time.”

Ngoc looked at the duster lying on the table. She remembered the second floor room, the fan that didn't work, and the talk about returning the books late. She didn't want to go back just because the first day was a bit clumsy.

“I'll stay at least until the end of the month,” she said.

Dad laughed over the phone. “That's my way of saying I've decided.”

“I haven't decided anything yet.”

"YES. I know.”

Ngoc turned off the phone, opened her briefcase and took out a new notebook. She wrote the first line: “Second floor library — something to do.”

1. Brush dust on the fan.

2. Check the book list.

3. Find the sandal's owner.

4. Learn not to get on the wrong bus.

She looked at the fourth line and added in brackets: "Not related to the library but important."

Tomorrow, she will meet her friend who returned her book late. Maybe he will make her angry. Maybe he could make the second floor room feel less like a place everyone had forgotten.

Before going to bed, Ngoc opened the calendar app on her phone and deleted the reminder "bus picks up at 7:10". She set a new reminder: “Find the right bus stop.” She also wrote the school address on a piece of paper and put it in the outer compartment of her bag. Her mother passed by and saw her preparing things for tomorrow and asked if she needed help.

“No. I just need you to remind me if I forget.”

Mom laughed. “It's also a form of help.”

Ngoc nodded, but this time she didn't feel like she failed because she needed reminding. She sees the difference between being done for her and being reminded to do it herself. The first day in An Hoa did not make her poor, nor did it turn her into a completely different person. It just puts her in a room where every chair, towel, and key has its own weight.

Tomorrow morning, she will ask Phuc about the book list, ask Minh Chau about the class schedule and ask Ms. Hanh about fixing the fan. She will not ask her father for a car. If she accidentally gets on the wrong bus again, she will get off at the next stop and find her way. That thought scared her a little, but also made her smile before turning off the light.