Page 14 of The Librarians
“You’re the Thirteenth Doctor!” cries Elise.
Sophie mentally slaps herself on the forehead. Of course.Of course. The first female Doctor Who.
“Hey, the Thirteenth Doctor!” Ana Maria, Elise’s BFF, comes in, a heavy-looking backpack over one shoulder.
Elise squeals as if she doesn’t see Ana Maria every weekday and most weekends. “Hey, you made it.”
“Of course I was going to make it. You’re auditioning new friends. As your OG friend, I have to be the Simon Cowell of this reality show. I have to reject everyone except a select few.”
“There may not be anyone to reject.”
“That’s why I brought my APUSH homework.”
“Me too—minus the AP part.”
The girls break into peals of laughter. They’re still bemoaning the fact that they can’t watchHamiltonwithout having to write an essay about itwhen a pair of actual attendees arrive—Sophie recognizes the two as the kids who spoke to Astrid a few hours earlier, in this very meeting room.
And then more patrons come. By the time seven o’clock rolls around, there are twelve attendees who are not library employees or Elise or Ana Maria.
Sophie can’t believe it. The program is a success. The attendees skew younger, they skew female, and they do not skew entirely white. Maybe there is indeed an overlooked need the library can continue to serve in the future.
“We’d better bring out more snacks,” she says to no one in particular.
And decides to seize the hour. Who knows what will happen after tonight? She’d better enjoy every moment with Elise while she still can.
Elise takes on the role of the host for the evening. The attendees divide into two equal groups, one tackling a more involved game, the other trying out several faster games.
Elise helps the group that chooses the deep dive of Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective with a summary of the rules. Sophie would have loved to stand by and listen to her—the girl speaks with such conciseness and authority. And joy too. But instead Sophie explains the rules of a shorter game to the second table to get them started.
A woman asks Sophie if Elise is her daughter and then compliments her on that terrific young woman. Sophie basks.
A similar sense of pleasure and relaxation unfurls in the meeting room. When the very atmospheric lighting proves a little too dim to study maps and other clues by, the players turn on the flashlights on their phones. And when someone mentions that it feels as if they are up at night at summer camp after the counselors have gone to sleep, half of the attendees chime in, expressing agreement.
To Sophie’s surprise, even more people arrive around seven thirty: first a South Asian–looking couple, both in tunic and trousers. On their heels, a white woman at the sight of whom Sophie takes an actual step backward.
The woman, costumed in a brown vest over a floral peasant dress, isclearly meant to be a fortune teller. A glittering orange scarf covers her hair and frames her slightly oversized forehead, from which gazes a large third eye.
The eye is nearly photorealistic, each lash distinct, and stares at Sophie with something between pity and malice.
Sophie is thrown back to a documentary she saw long ago about the aftermath of Chernobyl. Without warning, the camera panned to a fetus floating in a jar of formaldehyde, cyclops-like, its one eye directly above its nose.
The woman’s third eye, a mere artistic flourish, can never achieve the impact of a tragic deformity. But nevertheless, in the hazy red light, it jars.
“Wow, what an entrance,” pronounces Elise.
Everyone laughs and the tension breaks.
The new arrivals considerately do not demand to join the games already in progress. Instead they decide to try Clue: Two out of the three have seen the movie.
“I’m pretty sure I saw it on a bootleg DVD when I lived in Karachi,” says the woman of the South Asian couple. “It was weird, but good.”
Three players suffice to start the game, but Elise feels that four would be more fun. Sophie thinks of Astrid first—Astrid is likely to find the third eye cool. And being at a table with other people might take her mind off the young man who should have known better than to come around again.
But Astrid is still on the clock and needed at the checkout station. Whereas Hazel, who is attending on her own time, has been busy as a beaver, getting extra snacks and napkins from the supply closet and fresh pitchers of ice from the Den of Calories. Not to mention, she seems familiar with the games on hand, helping out the players when Elise is engaged with another table.
The third-eye woman issues an invitation to Sophie. “You are most welcome to join us.”
“Let me find you someone better,” says Sophie—and beckons Hazel over.
