After grabbing a macchiato from the counter, Evette heads toward the library. The coffee warms her hands, and she takes a few sips as she walks, letting the caffeine settle in. By the time she reaches the library doors, she's fully awake, ready to tackle the day.
She takes a deep breath, the nerves of the upcoming exam gnawing at her, but the scent of books immediately soothes her. It's the smell of possibility. Of quiet corners and endless knowledge.
She pulls open the door, and the familiar sound of pages turning fills her ears, along with the comforting hum of whispers from other students studying. Just as she steps inside, a voice calls out to her.
"Good morning, Evette!"
Evette turns toward the sound of the voice. It's Miss Kelly, the kind, blonde librarian who's been at West Gate for years. She's around 50, with glasses perched on her nose, always with a warm smile and a patient demeanor.
"Good morning, Miss Kelly," Evette responds, offering a small smile in return.
"I'm here to study for my math exam," she adds, hoping the librarian will point her in the right direction.
Miss Kelly nods knowingly. "Math books are over there," she says, gesturing toward a massive shelf stacked with textbooks, all neatly organized. "And if you need some quiet space, there's a workbench and laptops in the back corner."
Evette thanks her and heads toward the math section, her feet carrying her across the quiet floor. She sets her things down near the shelf, feeling the weight of the books around her. She exhales, knowing she has to focus now. She can't afford to get distracted—not with everything going on.
She sits down, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to push the swirling thoughts of Emerson and the yearbook from her mind. For now, it's just math. Just the equations on the page.
The hours pass in a blur. People come and go in the library, some chatting softly while others study in silence. Evette keeps her head down, determined to get through her math notes. She's lost track of time, only glancing at the clock once when it's already 3 p.m. Her workbook is now full of scribbled formulas and notes, but her mind feels drained.
She closes the math book with a sigh. It's been five hours since she started, and exhaustion is starting to weigh on her. She stretches, the muscles in her arms and neck protesting. Maybe it's time for a break.
Her eyes flicker toward her bag. The alumni assignment. She still hasn't fully tackled it yet. With a resigned groan, she pulls out the yearbook. The words "Emerson Holloway" still nag at her thoughts, but she pushes them aside for now. She'll focus on the assignment.
She stands up and walks over to Miss Kelly's desk. "Excuse me, Miss Kelly," Evette says politely, holding up the yearbook. "I need to access the student records for my assignment, if that's okay?"
Miss Kelly glances up from her computer, smiling warmly as she takes the yearbook from Evette's hands. "Of course, dear. You're doing research for your college alumni project, right?"
Evette nods, her pulse quickening slightly. "Yes. I just need some information. About some former students."
Miss Kelly stands and gestures toward a small door near the washrooms, a sign on it reading STUDENT RECORDS in bold letters. "Sure thing. Follow me."
Evette follows Miss Kelly down the quiet hallway, past the restrooms, to the door. Miss Kelly stops and gives her a wink as she opens it.
"Don't take too long in there," she says with a chuckle, "You're already ahead of most people in terms of dedication."
Evette smiles back, feeling the weight of the task ahead. She steps inside the small room, which smells faintly of paper and old files. The fluorescent lights buzz above, and she can see rows of filing cabinets stacked with student records.
Evette walks over to the shelf where all the student records are filed, her eyes scanning the labels until she finds the section for students whose names start with "A." She pulls out one of the many folders, flipping through it quickly until she finds what she's looking for.
There, neatly tucked between the pages, is a file labeled Adrina Bianchi. The word VALEDICTORIAN is stamped in gold across the top of the folder. It's exactly what she needs for her alumni assignment—nothing too surprising, just a notable former student.
Evette runs her finger over the gold lettering, about to open the file and start her research when something catches her eye.
In the corner of the room, partially hidden in the shadows, is a small door. The label on it reads CONFIDENTIAL, but the faded paint and the rotting wood give it a strange, almost ominous feel. The doorknob looks ancient, rusted, and barely hanging on.
Her attention wavers for a moment. She's here to focus on her assignment, but there's something about the door, something off about it, that pulls her in.
Curiosity tugs at her. She walks toward it, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as she reaches for the doorknob. It creaks in protest as she twists it, and the rusty knob falls into her hand with a brittle snap. The door groans open slowly, revealing a dark, forgotten space beyond.
Evette takes a deep breath. It's not what she came here for, but now that the door's open, she's drawn to see what's inside. Something tells her she won't be able to ignore it.