Chapter 10 — Second Floor Library Girl

Tran Tuan Phuc discovered Ngoc's secret not from a luxury car or a newspaper article, but from the way she knew a contract often had more pages than people showed.

After the competition, the school needs to sign a record of using the reading room for the new semester. Ms. Hanh gave the group a draft, including a line about "the function of block B can be converted when necessary". Ngoc read until there then stopped.

“What does this line mean?” Phuc asked.

“Maybe the school will repair or sell the building.”

“You know?”

“I guess.”

Ngoc did not say that her father mentioned a project to renovate the old school during the family meeting. An Nhien House is looking for space to open a book center and office, and block B is on the list to be surveyed. She didn't know if it was An Hoa school or not, but the name of the land and the road behind matched.

Ms. Hanh told the group to take note of their opinions and not to worry. But Ngoc knows that the words "maybe" are often the first step of a decision that has been discussed elsewhere.

Phuc saw her read the minutes again for the third time.

“Do you know anything?”

"Doubt."

“You answer like an adult when you want to dodge.”

“I don't want to scare everyone.”

"I'm not asking to panic. I'm asking to know how long I'm renovating a room."

Ngoc folded the minutes. “I will find out.”

“Let's find out.”

“You don't need to get involved in your family's affairs.”

“I'm participating in the library thing.”

Ngoc looked at him. Phuc didn't know what she was afraid of, but he knew that the reading room was more than just a student project to her.

That night, she called her father. He was at a meal with his partner, but answered the phone. Ngoc asked about the list of land behind An Hoa school. Father was silent longer than usual.

“Who told you?”

"No one. I saw it in the school minutes."

“That is just a survey plan.”

“Is An Nhien participating?”

"Maybe."

“Is block B destroyed?”

“Not decided yet.”

“Dad, do you know there is a library there?”

“Dad used to study there.”

Ngoc sat straight. “Dad, you know?”

"I know. But you shouldn't interfere with work."

“What if my job affects my school?”

“You are there to learn, not to negotiate.”

"Dad told me to take responsibility for my own choices. So I have the right to know who my choices affect."

Father sighed. “Ngoc, this is a complicated matter.”

"I know. That's why I asked."

He said he would find information and call back. Ngoc turned off the phone, not feeling any lighter.

The next day, Phuc did not come to first period class. Ms. Hanh said he asked for leave because his grandmother had to go to the doctor. Ngoc wanted to text and ask, then stopped because she was afraid of disturbing her. She sent a short sentence: "If you need to change your duty schedule, let me know."

Phuc replied after noon: "I will come later. You are fine."

Ngoc did not ask further. She knows that there are "fine" sentences that need to be respected, but there are also sentences that are just people's way of temporarily closing the door.

In the afternoon, the group met with Ms. Hanh about the minutes. Thanh Lam found information that the school had planned to move the library to the ground floor so that building B could be repaired. Minh Chau asked if they moved, where would the books go? Ms. Hanh said there is no plan yet.

Bao immediately raised his hand. “If we move to the ground floor, can everyone use the elevator?”

“The school doesn't have an elevator.”

“So it's still the second floor, just the nameplate is different.”

Phuc arrived at that moment, looking tired but still carrying the toolbox. Ngoc poured water for him. Uncle Thank you, then look at the minutes.

“We need to ask the school for deadlines and criteria,” he said.

“What if they don't answer?” Lam asked.

“Noted as yet unanswered.”

Ngoc looked at him. The way he didn't push everyone into a battle calmed her down.

They compiled a list of questions: will the reading room be kept intact, how will the books be stored, will students be given feedback, and if the building is repaired, will the project be continued at another location. Ngoc suggested asking who the survey unit was. Phuc looked at her.

“You know, right?”

Ngoc did not deny it. “It could be An Nhien.”

Be quiet. Lam put down his pen. Minh Chau asked: "Are you sure?"

“My father said the company is surveying the land.”

“So you're on both sides,” Phuc said.

His tone wasn't harsh, but that sentence hurt Ngoc more than the accusation.

“I did not choose a survey company.”

"I know."

“I don't want to lose the library either.”

"I know."

“So why do you talk like you are responsible?”

Phuc looked down at the toolbox. “Because I don't know which part I can trust.”

The whole room was silent. Saying it's not a joke, Lam doesn't interfere. Ngoc felt like she wanted to leave the table, but her legs wouldn't budge.

“You may not believe yourself right away,” she said. “But don't make yourself your father's representative.”

Phuc looked up. "I don't want to."

“So don't ask me about the company if you're not ready to hear the answer.”

Phuc nodded. He didn't apologize, Ngoc also didn't ask. They continued to prepare questions in a more careful atmosphere.

That evening, my father called back. He said An Nhien has not signed a contract, but the board of directors is considering opening a book center in that land. He admitted that he knew the second floor library was meaningful to students.

“Dad, can I withdraw from the project?” Ngoc asked.

“It's not just me who decides.”

“Can you suggest a plan to keep the house?”

“It is possible, but it will be expensive.”

“Is it more expensive than tearing it down and rebuilding it?”

“Sometimes.”

“So what do I need to do to make dad listen?”

"Don't do it because you want to force it. Find data that proves the place has value."

Ngoc laughed faintly. “Dad is giving you homework.”

“Dad, you're telling the truth.”

“This time I accept.”

The next day, Ngoc told the group that she would not use family connections to ask to keep the library. She wants the team to collect usage data, student testimonials, and cost options. Phuc agreed to participate, but set a condition: all documents must be reviewed by the whole group first, not allowing Ngoc to write a story that would benefit her.

“Okay,” Ngoc said.

Bao asked if it was possible to collect data on the number of cakes sold at the gate. Minh Chau said it was unrelated. Bao said bread is a form of reading culture.

"Why?" Lam asked.

“The person who eats the cake has free hands to turn the book.”

Phuc pushed his shoulder. “Don't ruin the meeting.”

“I'm protecting the spirit.”

Ngoc looked at her friends and saw that they could still smile even though a building was in danger of being changed. She didn't want to turn the library into a place for only serious meetings.

That night, she opened the book to borrow books and saw a new line written by Phuc: "Need to ask the reader what the meaning of the second floor is."

Ngoc wrote next to it: "Need to ask even those who have never been in."

Phuc read it the next day and said she was always expanding the list.

“Because I'm afraid of missing out.”

“I'm afraid I'm asking too many questions.”

“That's enough asking.”

Phuc gave her a new library card. “What is this?”

“Your card.”

“I do already.”

“This card says ‘person in charge of difficult questions’.”

Ngoc looked at the back. Bao drew a small sandwich in the corner.

“Do you allow Bao to draw?”

"I do not know. He used the pen first.”

Ngoc put the card in the book. She understands that from today, keeping the second floor will not just be a matter of a girl with money and a guy who doesn't have much time. It is a question the whole school must answer for itself: is a place valuable because of the building, or because of the people who find themselves there.

That night, Ngoc opened the computer to review the survey. She discovered that she was missing a group of people: cleaning staff. The next morning, she went down and asked the cleaning lady who usually cleaned the hallway on the second floor. She said the reading room used to have a lot of scrap paper, but since the new group opened, students have cleaned up more after themselves. She also said the stairs needed brighter lights because of the night shift.

Ngoc asked for permission to record comments. The cleaning lady asked if I needed to write down my name. Ngoc said no, unless she wanted to. She said write "hallway cleaner".

Phuc read the supplement, saying it was important data. “The person who keeps the clean room is also the person who uses the room.”

Ngoc added an item about invisible work to the report: cleaning up trash, changing bulbs, locking doors, checking water. She doesn't want any plan that only counts the number of books but forgets about people so that the books don't get dusty.

The group meeting that followed had an additional seat reserved for school staff. Bao asked if the chair had wheels, then brought one himself from the cafeteria. Ms. Hanh said that for the first time, the group asked the right people before drawing up the plan.

Ngoc looked at Phuc. He didn't praise her, just gave her a red pen to mark the part that needed verification. She accepted the pen, understanding that his trust did not come from an apology, but from the times she did the right thing when no one reminded her.

The group opened a questionnaire in front of the reading room door for users to vote on opening hours, book genres and hard-to-find areas. On the first day, someone wrote very briefly: "More chairs." Another wrote: “Don't play music.” One line reads: “Please make room for those who don't like to talk.”

Ngoc didn't know how to turn the last sentence into a design, so she asked Phuc. He suggested a reading corner with a "no need to chat" sign, but still has a help card if the reader needs it. Lam added a blue sign, Bao wanted the cake image to be silent.

“What is Silence Cake?” Minh Chau asked.

“Cake doesn't talk.”

“Bake doesn't talk.”

“That's easy to do.”

Ngoc drew a diagram of a quiet corner. She placed it near the window, not close to the librarian's desk, so readers wouldn't feel observed. Phuc checks the light, Lam checks the path.

A friend came to try the corner, sat for ten minutes and then said he felt easier to breathe because he didn't have to greet anyone. Ngoc asked if it was recorded, she said yes but no name was recorded. She gave the form anonymously.

That evening, her father sent a text message asking her if she wanted him to come and look at the questionnaire. Ngoc said it was okay, but he had to come as a normal parent. Father replied that he would sit at the back of the room and not bring a business card.

Ngoc smiled. She understands that adjusting roles does not separate the family; it helps them meet in a more equitable place.