"So, what do you have after this?" Molly asks me.
"Uh," I say, reaching inside my backpack for my schedule. "Art History."
"Snooze."
"What about you?"
"P.E. What are you doing after school? Wanna hang?"
"Why?" I ask her, but she looks at me perplexingly.
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to hang with me?"
She shakes her head. "I'm not following."
"Isn't fraternizing with the newbie against the rules here?"
"A little something you should know about me, Stassie, I could care less about rules. And what people think. Especially the people at this school."
"Wish more people were like you."
"What can I say? We can't all be that lucky," she jokes, flipping her white-blonde hair over her shoulder. "So, what do you say? Wanna hang later?"
"Really? You want to hang out?"
"If you ask me again, I'm counteracting my offer."
"Okay, yeah. But can it wait until after I stop by the school library?"
"The school library? What are you going to the school library for? There's no way you have homework on the first day of classes. The professors are pieces of shits, but they're not that shitty."
"I was scrolling through the app and saw that they're looking for an after-school assistant."
"Stassie, do not tell me that you're trying to work at the school library."
"What's wrong with working at the school library?"
"Well, for starters, the fact that it entails working."
"I don't know...I could really use the money. And the experience."
"The experience?"
"Yeah. I have my sights set on Dartmouth College once I graduate. It's my first choice. My only choice really. And I'll do whatever it takes to get in."
"Determined...I like that. I still think it's a bad idea, but you do you, girl. Let's exchange numbers and you can text me when you're done."
Once I leave Molly, I make my way to the library, which is on the third floor of the school building. Before I walk in, I notice a silver plaque to the left of the library door that reads: The Carrington Study, Generously Donated By Peter Carrington & Family
I enter the room and the first thing that stands out are the crystal chandeliers that hang from the intricately designed deep ceilings. They tower over long, rectangular desks that are lined up in rows of 8, which are surrounded by tall bookshelves. Each table has two brass lamps on it that lend light to the dim room.
I make my way over to the librarian, who's seated behind the front desk, typing on her computer. Her name tag reads Ms. Harris.
"How can I help you?" she asks, tipping her eyes up when she detects my presence.
"Hi. I'm here to apply for the Library Assistant position."
She brings her circular glasses down to the brim of her nose and studies me. I give her half a smirk and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
"Name?"
"Anastasia Moore."
"Grade?"
"I'm a Senior."
"You can have a seat over there," she says, keeping her head down but pointing to a small table in the corner of the room.
"Thank you," I say, heading in that direction.
Ms. Harris comes over to me with a binder in her grip and takes the seat across from me. She goes through a list of basic questions that she jotted down on a piece of loose-leaf, but let's be real, we both know that no one at this school is applying for the position. I answer each question confidently, knowing that I have nothing to lose and she eventually tells me that I have the job. I'm responsible for reporting here every Tuesday and Thursday from 3-6 pm for the next three months, starting next week.
I follow her back to the desk, where she prints out a name tag for me to wear once I start. I don't bother to correct her when I notice that she spelled my last name 'More' instead of 'Moore'.
I slip the name tag into my backpack and turn around when I bump into a tall, hard body. I'm looking down but bring my eyes to his square-shaped face.
The first thing that I notice are his eyes. They're this gunmetal-like shade of blue that I didn't even know could be an eye color.
The second things that I notice are his perfectly-straight nose and full red lips.
And the last thing...his hair. He has great hair. It's this sandy blonde that's thick in texture but short in length. It goes perfectly with his olive skin tone.
He's wearing a crisp white button down that's tucked into his khakis, and he's gripping his school blazer over his shoulder. His sleeves are rolled up and I can make out the perfect muscles in his arms. I'm so caught off-guard that I fail to speak. It also doesn't help that his eyes are piercing into mine.
"Hi, Jack," Ms. Harris greets him from her desk, breaking the silence between us. He doesn't answer her right away and keeps his focus on me for a few seconds longer.
He finally, yet slowly, passes me and I get a whiff of his delicious cologne. "Hi, Tracy," he says as he makes his way closer to her. Great, he's on a first-name basis with the school librarian. "I have this for you." He reaches into his expensive beige briefcase and hands her an old edition of Othello.
"How'd you like it?"
"You were right. A classic."
"I told you," she says, placing the book off to the side. "What's next then?"
"How about something by Hemingway?"
She smiles before standing up. "I know just the book."
Just as she walks away, his phone rings and he reaches for it in his back pocket. I don't know why I'm still standing here.
"Yo," he answers. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Relax, Rafe. Coach Pierson never starts on time. He's not going to force us to run laps, you pussy. I'll be there in 5." He hangs up and slips the phone back into his pocket, then looks at me. "You know, it's not very nice to eavesdrop on other people's conversations."
For a second, I think he's talking to someone else, but then I realize that no one besides us is around. "Oh," I say in a startled tone. "I-I wasn't."
He lets out a chuckle that's full of condescendence. "Right. You weren't."
Ms. Harris comes back with The Sun Also Rises in her hand, and I use that as my opportunity to walk away.
I have this nervous pit in my stomach because I think I just met Jack Carrington for the first time. And Molly was right.
He's a total jerk.