For the first time since I started studying with Itra in the library, someone sat at the nonfiction section’s table. He sat right next to Itra, and they chatted together. Except for the time before the winter break, I never really saw Itra talk with anyone. She spoke in a business-like way, sort of like when we first met. Actually, she still talks all formal whenever she’s teaching me. Thinking about it, I only ever talk with her when she’s teaching me.

Wait a minute, how close were we?

Pausing before I could go around the bookcase isolating Itra and the mystery person, I investigated my thoughts. By now, Itra and I have known each other for three months, but I couldn’t tell how close we were. She and I met on the weekends sometimes, did that count as close?

“Oh, Illate,” Itra called for me, “I didn’t notice you, why don’t you take a seat?”

Broken from my frozen state, I responded, “Ah, yeah, okay.”

Choosing to sit directly in front of Itra, I looked at the mysterious new person. He dressed well. His suit had no wrinkles, and his hair flowed to the side. As I looked him over, I noticed him studying me as well. I had a hard time finding a comfortable position.

“So this is the guy you were talking about,” he commented, “he seems kind of antsy.”

“He gets nervous a lot,” Itra explained, “but he’s a good writer, would you be willing to help him out?”’

“We’ll see,” he replied, before facing me, “My name is Iter Athor, what’s yours?”

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“I-Iter Athor?” I parroted, “The famous writer that published a book in middle school?”

“Well, yes, that’s me,” Iter responded, “but I’m asking for your name.”

“I, uh, it’s, um.” I oddly couldn’t speak in the face of the celebrity.

“Oh well, it’s fine,” he cut me off, “Itra already told me.”

Pulling out a piece of paper and pencil, Iter instructed me, “write something.”

“Huh?” I looked at the paper and back at Iter, “What do I write?”

“Something,” he answered.

“Okay…” I wrote the word something on the piece of paper and gave it back.

Iter smiled.

“I like him, I’ll teach him,” he said, “starting tomorrow, you’ll meet me at the library like you do with Itra.”

“So you’ll be here with us from now on?” I asked. The image of the private study sessions I had with Itra popped into my mind. For some reason, the idea of having another person there didn’t feel right.

“No,” Iter responded, “I’ll be here with you, not with Itra.”

“What?” I looked at Itra.

Itra’s gaze went down.

“What do you mean?” I questioned, “You mean you’ll come after Itra?”

“Did she not explain things to you?” Iter asked, “She won’t be tutoring you anymore.”

“Huh?”

“She wanted someone else to teach you,” he continued, “so that you could do better.”

Itra picked up her things. I watched her put away her papers and books. She left a couple out, both of them belonging to the library.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more,” Itra said, before hurrying away.

“We’ll begin tomorrow,” Iter told me, before picking up his things as well.

I continued to sit at the table. I didn’t want to go yet. I thought Itra was going to teach me.