hellevator

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Staying late at the university was probably one of your favorite things lately. The reason? Quite simple: the library all to yourself and your studies.

That day, the comparative literature tutorial had extended a couple of hours, because the professor had specifically asked you to help him correct the group’s papers, using the excuse that you “always submitted everything impeccably.” To be honest, you didn’t mind; you found a certain pleasure in being in control without even asking for it, so you helped him without a problem.

The library was two floors below where you were. Before going down, you stopped by a vending machine, grabbed a can of soda, and took a sip while looking out the window. The parking lot looked dark from there. The sun was setting on the Ontario horizon, and the few students who remained at that hour were already getting into their cars or taking public transportation and leaving the premises.

Soda can in hand and backpack on your shoulder, you went down the stairs and took the path to the right, straight to the library. Upon arriving, you pushed open the doors and let the cool air wash over your face, a small pleasure in life that never got old. The librarian was where she always was: behind her desk reading her magazines.

You approached the counter and cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, Ms. Campbell,” you said. “Where can I find Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire? I need it urgently.”

The woman, about sixty years old, with subtly graying hair, looked at you over her glasses.

“Another girl has already taken it,” she replied. “She’s over there. You’ll have to deal with her.”

You clicked your tongue. Seriously, who on earth would need that specific book at this time of day? It could only be someone from your class, and as far as you knew, everyone had already gone home.

“Thank you.”

You moved away from the counter and went where the librarian had directed you, making your way between the bookshelves until you reached the other side, where the study tables were. There didn’t seem to be anyone there. You looked to the right, nobody. You looked to the left…

“This has to be a joke…” you muttered.

There she was, the girl the librarian had been talking about. The girl who, of all your classmates, was the one you least expected to see.

The girl who, for some reason you didn’t understand, hated you.

Enami Asa was sitting at the back, in the corner of the reading area by the windows, with the book you needed open on the table. She was an attractive girl, with long, shiny blonde hair and a slender figure, with very pronounced Japanese features.

You rarely interacted with her; she always avoided you, glared at you, or simply told you to go to hell. Why was beyond your comprehension, as you were sure you had never done anything wrong to her. In fact, you were always kind and polite to everyone. But she, somehow, wanted nothing to do with you.

And now you had to ask her for a book that she probably needed as much as you did. You were screwed.

With a deep, resigned sigh, you ran a hand over your face and walked towards her.

As soon as she noticed someone approaching, Asa looked up from her book. Her face was calm, unconcerned. When she realized it was you, however, she rolled her eyes and frowned.

“Stay away from me,” she said as soon as you stopped near her table.

“Listen, Enami, I hate to bother you, believe me, but…”

“I’m not interested,” she replied, her gaze fixed on the book, legs crossed.

“I really need that book,” you finished the sentence anyway.

“Oh yeah? Too bad. I’m using it.”

“It’s fine,” you said, taking off your backpack, placing it on the table next to hers, and sitting down in the chair. “I’ll wait until you’re finished. I’m in no hurry.”

“Oh my God…” Asa mumbled, looking up from her book and meeting your eyes for a moment. She couldn’t hold your gaze for long. “I don’t know what part of ‘leave me alone’ you didn’t understand.”

“I’m not…”

What you were about to say was interrupted by a sudden flicker of the lights and a brief power fluctuation. You and Asa looked at the ceiling at the same time, confused. When everything returned to normal, Asa looked back at her book.

“I’m not doing anything wrong, woman,” you continued. “Besides, you won’t even notice I’m here. Just carry on with what you’re doing.”

Asa scoffed and muttered something under her breath.

Silence fell between you.

“Your presence bothers me,” she said after a while.

“Well, that’s too bad,” you replied, looking at your phone. “Because this is a public place, and I can be here if I want to.”

“I’m going to sue you for harassment, then.”

“With what evidence?” you asked, pointing to the corner of the ceiling. “There’s a camera right there.”

Asa followed your finger and looked at the camera.

“Fine, I’m leaving.”

Asa slammed the book shut, shoved it into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder before standing up.

“What?” You looked up from your phone to see her finishing packing her things and walking away. “No!”

“I’ll kick your ass if you follow me!”

Despite the threat, you grabbed your backpack and followed her, keeping your distance. Asa glanced over her shoulder, and noticing you, quickened her pace.

“Enami, for God’s sake!” you pleaded. “I’m serious! I need that book!”

“I don’t care!”

You followed Asa out of the library, panic seizing your body. If you didn’t get that damn book, you were screwed, because it wasn’t available digitally anywhere, and midterms were next week. You had to get it somehow, even if it meant bribing her.

As you followed Asa down the hallway, the lights flickered again, and this time the power fluctuation was even worse. You and Asa stopped dead in your tracks until the electricity stabilized. Then she glared at you and snarled.

“Damn it, leave me alone! I don’t want you near me!”

Asa resumed walking, now much faster, heading straight for the elevator. The underground parking lot was about six floors down; that would be the quickest way.

“My midterm grades depend on that damn book!” you protested. You could easily catch up to her if you wanted to, but you preferred to avoid an unnecessary scene and giving her real reasons not to give you anything.

“I couldn’t care less about your grades, nerd!”