COSMOS | Complete

CHAPTER 8: AARON

After twenty minutes of wondering, someone finally instructs me to the correct building. It's small and old, and the words Portland Library are ghostly painted on the sign up front. I'm tempted to just borrow a book from one of the boys, but they'd probably lend me something they haven't read themselves. If there's one thing in common between us, it's that we don't read.

It's cool and air-conditioned in the building, and it's quiet. Soft chatter, the ring of a telephone. Immediately, it feels like a different world.

The carpet is an aged dark blue, a sharp contrast from my crisp, new sneakers. I make a bee-line to the Caldecott winning books, deciding that I'm going to find a book I won't read, at least it's a winner.

I brush past someone milling around the book shelves, my eyes trained on the books with medallions. What I don't notice is the 'someone' that I skirted around is the one and only Asher Thomas, who would be enraged over having to share the same air as me.

"Hey!"

I turn, and Asher stops. Her eyes are incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I let out a startled laugh. I hadn't thought about seeing anyone my age around here. Her presence increases my motivation to get out of here by a max, and I'm tempted to bolt out the door on the spot. "I have no idea," I admit.

Asher chews on her lip. She's suspicious. After a few seconds, she rolls her eyes, and begins walking away. "Just watch where you're going," she grumbles. Her negativity is so tangible that it's almost as if she's a walking shadow, and she's battling the sunlight.

Suddenly, I've got an idea. "Wait."

Asher pauses, but continues walking. "Good Lord," I mutter. Never, in my entire life, has anyone treated me less than a person than Asher Thomas. It's like her happiness comes from making others feel like shit, and she feeds off their misery. With just me, I'm sure she goes home and laughs for hours.

"I need help," I say. "Can you help me?"

Asher ponders over this, sarcastically thoughtful. "Hm," she murmurs. "What's in it for me?"

"Whatever you want. Money." I pause, then smirk. "A one night stand."

Asher snorts. "If that's what I get out of this, I'll pass."

I suppress a groan. I'm desperate. I don't know shit around here. The last thing I want is to come home with a book that Mom knows I won't read.

I run a hand through my hair, scratching the top of my head. Asher is the last person I want to ask for help, but right now, she's my only hope. I'd rather shine a light on my stupidity around her than some random librarian. "I need help finding a book."

"Math tutoring books? I know a place."

"Asher, please."

She smirks.

"Just a good, worthwhile book."

Asher begins walking. I walk with her. I have to slow my strides – hers are half the size of mine.

"What's this for?" she asks. "It can't be for your own love of reading."

I roll my eyes, but she's right. I wouldn't come here if someone paid me to. "My mom sent me," I say. "She wants me to bring back something good."

Asher wrinkles her brow. It's weird to see eyebrows on girls that aren't plucked thin or unnaturally drawn. "Do it yourself," she retorts. "Why should I help you?"

I grow quiet, thinking. What does Asher Thomas want?

"I'll leave you alone," I say. "For the next two months."