[b]Eaglecrest High – Library: 12:02 PM[/b]

Aiko peeked around the corner of the bookshelf she was hiding behind, and looked around, making sure that she was no longer being followed. At the beginning of the break, a younger boy, a first year student, she guessed, had approached her.
He had stopped her in a hallway, and she had, politely, returned his greeting, and told him unless he needed something, she'd like to be alone. Apparently, he wanted to eat lunch with her, but when she declined, he persisted. She tried to walk away, but he followed her.
This, in turn, caused her to panic. She ran without looking back, pretty certain that he would chase her. Without knowing why, she had run to the library.
From where she was standing, she could see the boy run past the doors to the library, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Getting her bearings, she found herself close to the door leading to the old book section. Eaglecrest had a, for a high school, pretty big collection of old books from around the world. These valuable, sometimes irreplaceable, books were written in a variety of languages, and varied in ages between a few hundred to almost two thousand years old. Anything from handwritten decrees to mass printed lexicon could be found here.
Of course, due to the age and rarity of these books, the room in which they were kept had to have its temperature and air moisture regulated, as to better preserve the books. Aiko slowly pushed the heavy glass door open and walked in. She had often found herself in this place when she needed to think. A smell of old, musty leather and paper filled the room. She breathed deeply. The collection of knowledge and history in the room was, as always, impressive. She ran her index and middle fingers along the weathered spines of some medieval, handwritten tomes.

“How often have I been here since I started at Eaglecrest, I wonder...” she asked, as if talking to the books. They, of course, didn't answer.

She stopped her fingers, and pulled the book out of the shelf.
It was a logbook, written by a French nobleman who had taken part in the crusades. He wrote of his experiences in the holy land, and of the trip there. While not exactly the most interesting thing to read, she still sat down at one of the tables with it.

[i]I guess waiting here for a few minutes won't hurt.[/i] she thought to herself.

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