Chapter 7 — Second Floor Library Girl

The book exchange festival makes the reading room more famous than the posters, and popularity always entails things the group cannot prepare in time.

On Monday morning, Ms. Hanh placed in front of Ngoc a list of thirty-two students who wanted to register for reading cards. The old card only had the name, class and code. No photos, no addresses, no redundant information.

“You have to check each person,” she said. “Don't let anyone take someone else's card.”

Bao heard it and asked: "What if people have the same name?"

“Check class and student code.”

“What if it's the same class, same name, and same code?”

Phuc looked at him. “There is no such thing.”

“I'm just prepared for the risk.”

Minh Chau divides the list by class. Ngoc is in charge of grade 11, Phuc is in charge of grade 10, Lam is in grade 12, Bao writes cards. He writes better than everyone thinks, but he always adds a small dot after his name, causing the group to remind him that it's not a punctuation mark.

During recess, an 11th grader asked to borrow a book but did not want to write down his real name. Ngoc explained that the library needs a name for management, but does not make the list public. She asked if she returned it late, would she be reported to the teacher?

“If you notify us in advance, we will just write a new date,” Ngoc said.

“If you don't report?”

“We will remind you.”

“If you don't have a phone?”

“You can leave a message in class.”

Phuc added: "Or ask a classmate to help you report it. No need to tell the reason."

She thought and wrote her name. Ngoc realized that many people are not afraid of returning books late; They are afraid of being seen as untrustworthy. If the rules prevent people from borrowing, the library has failed before losing any books.

In the afternoon, the scratches on the lock were checked by Ms. Hanh. There are no obvious pry marks, but the latch is old. The school replaces the litter with a new one at the end of the week. Phuc suggested temporarily not placing precious books on the outside shelves. Ms. Hanh agreed, then reminded the group not to turn the reading room into a guard place.

“We create open space,” she said. “Don't let fear close it.”

Ngoc wrote that sentence in the notebook. She understands that staying safe doesn't mean being suspicious of everyone.

That week, the group tried silent reading time at noon. Students went to the second floor with lunch boxes, but line five in the rules forced Bao to stand outside the door to eat quickly. He had eaten half of the loaf when a 10th grader offered him a piece of patty.

“I am being disciplined,” Bao said.

“You eat out.”

“I was voluntarily removed from the library.”

Phuc gave him a tissue. “Come in after eating.”

"I can't. I need to maintain the image of an oppressed person."

“Your image has been lost since drawing the crown.”

Ngoc was folding books and couldn't help but laugh. Bao looked at her and said it was the first time he saw the young lady smile because of a normal person. Ngoc asked if he wanted to be recorded in the incident book.

“I take it back.”

One afternoon, Phuc did not come to duty. Ms. Hanh asked Ngoc to open the door, while Lam brought up the list. Bao ran over ten minutes later and said the bread counter had a large order. Ngoc realized he wasn't just selling cakes after school; he was helping his grandmother prepare for a neighborhood meeting.

“You can rest today,” Ngoc said.

“If I take a break, who says people can't eat in the room?”

"Me."

“You don't sound scary.”

“I can study.”

Bao looked at her, then gave her the key. “I trust you more than I thought.”

Ngoc received the key. It's light, but feels different from the set of keys Ms. Hanh gave. It is a responsibility one gives oneself.

At the end of the day, Phuc texted to say that his grandmother had back pain and he had to stay at the counter. Ngoc paid The group's comments will be handled automatically. She and Lam inventory the books, Bao closes the door. There were no major problems, only two students forgot to return their pencils and one student wrote a message on scrap paper.

The message read: "This room has someone on duty so it's not as scary as rumored."

Ngoc plans to put it in a notebook. Lam said it should be placed on the message board. They asked Ms. Hanh's permission, then posted it next to the rules.

The next day, Phuc appeared tired. Ngoc asked how her grandmother was. He said it was better, but the bread counter was short of people.

“Do you need my help?” Ngoc asked.

Phuc looked at her. “Do you know how to sell cakes?”

"Not yet."

"So don't stand too close to the counter. Customers will think I'm selling luxury."

Ngoc followed him to the gate after school. The bread counter was smaller than she expected, with only a cart, a box of vegetables, a pan of meat and a handwritten price list. Grandma Phuc sat on a chair and smiled when she saw her.

“Phuc's classmate?”

"Yes."

"Girlfriend?"

Phuc almost dropped the tongs.

Ngoc coughed. “No.”

Grandma nodded. “If not, just eat the cake first.”

Phuc turned around. “Don't recruit people based on rumors.”

“Grandma just asked.”

Ngoc received a cake and paid the full price. Grandma did not accept any more. Phuc gave her the job of wrapping paper, then told her not to give too many vegetables if the customer didn't ask for it.

“Do you think you don't know how to wrap cakes?”

"I do not know."

“I have wrapped gifts many times.”

“Bread is not a gift.”

“Sometimes people buy because they want to have fun.”

Phuc looked at her, then handed her another paper bag. “Then wrap it nicely.”

The first guest was a worker. The pearl was wrapped too tightly, the cake was flattened. Phuc opened it and repaired it. The customer laughed and said it was okay if she just did it. The second guest was a 10th grade student. Ngoc remembered her name from the library book, so she asked if she wanted more sauce. Phuc looked at her as if she had just scored.

After an hour, Ngoc learned how to keep vegetables from falling, give change with both hands and not let the paper bag touch the hot pan. She also learned that the salesperson must remember who likes spicy, who doesn't eat cucumber, and who is always short of a thousand.

“You do this every day?” she asked.

“Almost.”

“And still studying?”

“Study on the bus, while waiting for the meat to cook, during breaks.”

Ngoc thought about the times she complained of not having time even though someone helped her schedule. She didn't want to turn Phuc into a lesson for herself, so she just said:

“You are good at organizing.”

“I'm good because there's no other way.”

The answer made her silent. Phuc's grandmother asked her to wash the vegetables, then talked about school. She didn't ask Ngoc's family, didn't compliment Ngoc's shoes, just told her to bring a hair tie next time because the wind makes her hair fall into the vegetables.

In the evening, Ngoc came home later. Father asked her where she was going. She said she helped her friend sell bread. Dad didn't forbid it, but asked if it was safe. Ngoc said there is a grandmother and a counter at the gate of the neighborhood.

“You don't need to prove you're not rich by doing all the hard work,” dad said.

“I didn't do it to prove it.”

“So what do you do?”

Ngoc remembers the feeling of customers receiving cakes, remembers Phuc writing down orders, remembers the cart with a handwritten price list.

“Because I want to know how other people manage to run one day.”

Father was silent. He did not object, but his voice was lower when he said goodnight.

The next day, a photo of Ngoc standing at the bread counter appeared in the class group. The caption reads: "The young lady starts acting in real life movies." Ngoc looked at the photo, this time she didn't feel as angry as before. She just saw that the photographer was standing too close and didn't ask.

Phuc's message: “I will Tell Ms. Hanh.”

Ngoc replied: “Don't. I will speak for myself.”

Phuc: “Are you sure?”

Ngoc: “No. But I want to practice.”

Phuc sent a thumbs up emoji. Then later added: “Remember to bring a hair tie.”

Ngoc smiled. She opened the library book and wrote under the privacy line: "People who can handle their own affairs are still allowed to need someone to stand by."

The next day, she brought the hair tie to the counter. Phuc's grandmother chose a blue one, saying it matched her uniform. Ngoc wrapped the cake faster than last time, but still folded the edges of the paper askew. Phuc corrected her, asking if she wanted to learn how to fold with one hand.

“Yes. But don't laugh if I tear it.”

“I will laugh a little.”

“So it's still a laugh.”

They practice on scraps of paper. Ngoc broke it three times, the fourth time the bag stood up. A customer received the cake and praised the sturdy packaging. Phuc said it was the product of the entire counter, not saying who made it.

Ngoc asked why he didn't mention her as a student at the publishing house.

“That has nothing to do with cake.”

“But it might make people curious.”

“Curiosity is not a license.”

Ngoc remembered that sentence and saw that it had become a soft barrier between them and outsiders. She doesn't need to hide herself, but she also doesn't need to put every part of her life out for others to use.

In the afternoon, the group at the library received a bag of donated books from the grocery store owner. She did not write down his name, only saying that her son had studied at An Hoa. Ngoc checked each book and saw one book with oil stains similar to the smell at the bakery counter.

“Maybe readers leave stories on everything,” Phuc said.

Ngoc replied: "As long as it doesn't leave oil on the page."

The two of them laughed together. She credits the book's source as "a family in the neighborhood."

Bags of books from the neighborhood filled up the literature shelves, but also forced the group to filter more carefully. One book is equipped with black ink lines, one book has insulting comments about the writer, another book is missing the last three chapters. Ngoc didn't want to throw it away because the giver had brought it, but Ms. Hanh reminded her that a gift doesn't automatically become a suitable book.

Phuc suggested placing a "pending" area instead of putting it directly on the shelf. Lam writes short criteria, Minh Chau sets up a review schedule every month. Bao wanted to name the area "the waiting room of undecided books", which everyone kept because it sounded less heavy.

A student asked if his book was rejected, would he get it back? Ngoc said yes, the library will clearly state the reason and keep the books for a maximum of two weeks. I brought back the book with missing pages, but left another story intact.

“I still want to contribute,” she said.

Thank you, Ngoc, don't ask why I changed my mind. Phuc helped me write down the name of the donation, then told me if I wanted to remain anonymous, just say so next time.

In the evening, Phuc's grandmother asked Ngoc what she had learned at the counter. Ngoc tells how to receive vegetables, how to fold paper and how to not make others feel like you owe them. Grandma nodded and said that selling cakes is like keeping a library: customers come back not just because of the food, but because they know how they will be treated.

Phuc pretended not to listen. Ngoc knew he heard her very clearly, but the two did not turn her words into an explanation of the relationship. They just continued to wrap the cake, then closed the library before it got dark.