Moving On

 The main lights of the library were dimmed but she could see the outline of a figure sitting at the front desk. Was that the librarian? she wondered. If she was caught by the authorities, it could spell doom for her. Perhaps there was an alternative way in but how would she know? The only other time she had been in that library was to collect a mandatory college library card which she had never had cause to use. 

  "Hey, you! I see you. Over here," the person at the front desk called to her. Jacqueline stopped in her tracks. The voice sounded young and somewhat famuliar, like someone of her age but voices could be deceiving. Nevertheless, she made her way to the person, prepared for anything except the person she found in the chair: Camille Cage. Camille was like a doppelganger of Kristin, just less rich and famous. She was beautiful and yet so vain that she admonished everyone to call her CeCe (C.C) or so she had heard. She always had As and Bs but it had been generally assumed that she paid the lecturers in exchange of good grades. Seeing her in the library was somewhat anticlimactic. 

 "Well, well, well, if it isn't Camille Cage. Funny seeing you here."

 "I could say the same about you but unlike me, you are a real life, dull but rich bitch," Camille retorted, a rictus on her face. Suddenly, they both burst into laughter. 

 "Now that the awkward surprise frenzy has worn off, why are you here, Jacqs?"

 "To use the college facilities, of course. There is a first time to everything," Jacqueline replied, in a fake snotty British accent. The youngsters giggled in unison. Jacqueline could not believe she was sharing a laugh with Camille Cage. She wasn't that bad as the others said. Either that or she was a pretty good actress. 

 "I don't see Ginny anywhere. Trouble in paradise?" Camille looked behind Jacqueline then all around herself. The latter was not ready to discuss the fault in her friendship. 

 "Just a little misunderstanding, that's all. Are you the night librarian or something? I'm behind in my studies and I need someone to point me in the right direction."

 Camille dramatically swooned, forever the drama queen. "What am I, a wooden peg? I'll be your guide. I just need to see your reading list and I'll see what I can do."

  Now Jacqueline was dumbfounded. Camille was ...nice. Unable to form even a smartass quip, she relinquished her list of recommended books to Camille, who quickly looked it over and handed it back to her. 

 "You are in luck. We both have similar reading texts, very easy to comprehend and assimilate. Give me a minute to grab them from the shelves." Camille slid off her stool and leapt to the task. Her absence gave Jacqueline some time to think. Everyone thought Camille was a bossy, control freak but it was not true. It seemed like her brilliance was what made people think ill of her and thinking about it, CeCe sounded kind of cool.

 "Lost in thought already? Did I take too long?"

 "No, no, I was just....Can I ask you something?"

 "Shoot," Camille encouraged, settling back in her place on the stool. She arranged the books before her on her desk. 

 "Why do people only have horrible things to say about you? You are not like that yet the things they say...." She faded off but Camille got the message. 

 "I'm glad that you think I'm a good person but I wasn't always like this. When I first got here, I was like you: rash and badass and in the process, I stepped on the wrong toes. Now I have myself to blame for how people treat me. There you have it; that's my story. Are you reading this here or are you taking it back to your room?"

 "Hmmm, I think I rather read it here. I can stay in a cubicle, right?"

 "A secret nerd like myself? You are welcome here anywhere." She tossed a card in her direction and took down her name in a journal. "Have a nice time."

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

 It was almost 3:30am when Camille went round to wake up the sleeping readers and alert everyone that it was time to leave the library. Jacqueline had fallen asleep once or twice but at least, she had gotten the meat of the book she had been reading. History was not boring just as Camille wasn't rude, just a misunderstood pair.

 "Ready to go?" Camille asked, bringing her head only through the door. 

 "Sure. Let me grab my things." They both exited the library together, making small talk.

 "So how was your reading?"

 Jacqueline coughed out a laugh. "Let's just say that I heard a very valuable lesson today."

  "What's that?" Camille was curious.

 "To never judge a book by its cover." Her words bore ambiguous meanings and they remained silent for a while, pondering.

 "Hey, you want to study with me later today? The test is speedily approaching and I want to be at my very best." When Jacqueline said nothing, Camille felt stupid. Why would Jacqueline Torres want to hang out with her anyways?

 "Or not, if you don't want to. I'm sorry if I sounded too forward."

  Jacqueline quickly realized what message her silence had convened and tried to make amends. 

 "No, it's not like that. Sure, we can study together. I actually look forward to picking your brain on some courses. I'm academically hopeless," she exaggerated, making Camille laugh.

 "Don't worry. You are in safe hands."

 On getting to the hostel, they said their goodbyes and went separate ways. Jacqueline checked her phone for any messages and she had just one from her mother: 

 Hi, princess. Hope you got to school safely? Sorry for not calling earlier. I had a few loose ends to settle. Enjoy yourself and make me proud.

  Jacqueline read the message twice and smiled. It wasn't a phone call but she had made some effort. Nevertheless why would a family friend call and her own family won't? Suddenly, her mind was filled with thoughts of Mr Rossi. She wondered what he was doing and where he was. Piqued with unusual curiosity, sleep departed from her and she was eager to satisfy her curiosity. She took out her Notepad and typed in: Richard Rossi. Unfortunately, there were millions of Richard Rossi on the Internet. She erased her input and retyped: Richard Rossi, Petal billionaire and there it was.

 Pictures of Richard filled her screen, his arms around different models. He was never seen without a woman at his arm. Jacqueline ached with the knowledge and browsed on some of the women she saw him with. Most of them were either in their late twenties or early thirties. 

 "Not people like me," she whispered, shutting down the notepad and stared at the ceiling. She didn't know how she felt about seeing him with other women but she could no longer lie to herself. It was time overdue to move on and forget about Richard Rossi, for good this time.