Pam and I agreed that on the days I study at the library instead of going to class we’d simply meet up in her room half an hour after the end of class. That was 45 minutes ago, I lost track of time. I knock on the door marked 1126.

“Come on in,” she calls. I open the door and see her put her book down on the nightstand.

“Sorry, I’m late…” I start but catch a glimpse of the book. “Brontë?”

”Yeah, it’s impossible not to love Jane Eyre,” she states.

“Wuthering Heights is one of the best books ever written.”

“I completely agree, but Jane Eyre is the best,” she laughs. I join in.

“If it’s Brontë it’s good enough for me.” She gets up and indicates to the shelves above the desks. Side by side in protective glass casings are Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights with the pseudonyms on the covers.

“First editions. Gifts from dad, that one was for my 18th birthday, and that one from when I completed the project and graduated.”

“You can’t read them like that,” I comment with a smile.

“If I take them out I can, but I have the Wordsworth editions too, for everyday use.”

“It’s impressive.” I look over the other shelves. “Your roommate likes the classics too?” All the shelves above the two desks are stuffed with Wordsworth classics or titles you’ll find in the Wordsworth collection.

“She doesn’t read much if she can get around it, so she let me use her shelves too.” My room has two shelves per desk, this one has four plus some over Pam’s bed.

“Who do you have to suck up to to get extra shelves? “

“I complained to the librarian that I didn’t have room enough for my own collection here, she helped me out.”

“I think I’ve been focusing on the wrong librarian,” I comment.

“Maybe,” she agrees and opens the door. I take one last look at the shelves.

“You have a great collection.”

“What about you? What do you have?”

“Audio,” I say with a smile. “I started using audiobooks a few years ago, that way I could sew what I needed and still have time to enjoy a good book. The problem, of course, is that without internet I only have the books I put on my phone, and that’s not much of a library.”

“Well, you’re welcome to borrow from mine, the library here is more demand based than quality aware.”

“Don’t make promises like that unless you’re willing to keep them,” I warn her.

“As long as you’re not one of those people who fold corners or underline things,” she says sternly.

“Or drink coffee while reading without knowing how to hold a cup. I would never,” I assure her. And that, it seems, is how you make a new friend.

We get to the stairs and she starts going down - but after only a few flights, she stops and opens a door.

“I thought we were going to the forest?” I remark thinking she might be taking the wrong way out of habit.

“No, I have something different in mind this time.” She says with mischief in her voice. “We’re going to the roof instead.”

“Why?” The only plants on the roof are the potted ones some Natures put up there to make it homier.

“I spoke to some of the professors, and I think I know how to do this now.”

“You spoke to the professors about me?” That wasn’t a part of the deal…

“I remembered how you did in Fight Club, it was no problem for you to notice Sue trying to read your mind, so I spoke to the other teachers to find out if that is normal for you, to think best in the heat of the moment. You fetched cokes from across the island, and since you’ve been living in secrecy all this time it’s unlikely that’s a distance you’re used to, and you couldn’t have been familiar with the surroundings that soon, and still you just did it without thinking about it. In the assignment test you did whatever they asked you, but in class, you haven’t mastered a single new thing. Dad has a theory that the Langdales are taught through experience mostly, like a learn by doing philosophy, so it’d make sense that that’s how you learn best, without thinking too much about it. Therefore, we’re going to try that today. Like in Fight Club you have to last as long as you can, and hopefully, you’ll predict my actions before I can do anything, if not you’re going to end up with some bruises.”

“Seriously? You’re just going to attack me and if I don’t get it, too bad?” She nods, but it seems she’s willing herself to be confident in her plan.

“Brilliant, let’s go.” This is just like baseball back home. I close my eyes and she throws her tablets together and the plant springs to life. Unlike Fight Club I only have one opponent here, and at the same time it’s the one opponent who beat me, and she’s not waiting now. A branch of a suddenly giant tree reaches out for me and I jump away. It manages to get hold of my skirt, and as I grab hold of it to keep it on my hips, as the tree tries to yank me closer, the skirt rips across the middle, and instead of an ankle length black skirt that fades into a deep blue hem with slim black lines like tree branches, I am simply wearing a ripped, black, knee long skirt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers embarrassed.

“It’s fine, cotton rips easily.” I grab hold of a tree branch and force it towards her instead, bringing focus back to the game afoot. She evades with a quiet laugh and sends the entire tree bending down towards me. As it turns out, this is actually hard. She seems to be almost playing chess - sending one branch one way to distract me from the second one following close by. Once I get the hang of that and start watching out for the second one, she starts sending thirds and fourths. When that becomes harder to do she adds new trees to keep her sources stocked. I can’t remember the last time I had a workout like this. By the end of the hour, I’m exhausted.

“It’s a gut feeling,” she reminds me. “Instinct.” In other words: don’t think, do. That’s good, I can’t really think clearly right now anyway. I stop the attacking branch from the second tree and send the outreaching branch of the first tree to wrap around the trunk of the third tree so instead of crashing down towards me it crashes down over the rose bush and crushes it, the force of the crash bringing down the first tree as well. I quickly lift the entire pile of plants up and throw them over the second tree, bringing down that one too.

“I think that’s a good place to stop for today,” Pam remarks. “You’re making progress. You know how to do it, you were sensing my energy reaching out before I could tell anything to move. We just need to work on getting you to a place where you can do that without the adrenaline or clear incentives. We just need to get you to a place where you can do this while having a hot chocolate with a close friend or your family.” Which sounds like a plan, except for the fact that everywhere I turn here there are new expectations and new people waiting for me to fail, I’m always on guard here, and I’m not getting out of here anytime soon.