S.C.H.O.O.L. -33-

Souls Capturing Hospitality Over Objective Liberty
Day 1.5 of Awaking

Past me.

It whizzed past me. Down the hall. Under trolleys and alongside filing cabinets. Defying gravity, although I knew this was just basic elementary physics. And only one other person could know this was basic physics. And only one other person could have designed such a machine to do just this. But where?

I heard footsteps from down the hall in front of me. Shuffles. Someone tripped. Another shushed them and someone cursed under their breath. Vain attempts of being sneaky. The toy car came to a stop a ways away, and from around the corner appeared two people I’ve only seen in the halls and had the acquaintance of.

Short Round held the remote controller in his hand and moved the joy stick around. Beside him, Admin held a pocket-sized computer for video footage.

“…or maybe the batteries just died, I mean there are a number of explanations why it could be acting up. The car probably has a short fuse or missing wire – we did just sort of throw it together last minute from rubble we found-”

“Dōre.”

“… I just mean to say that perhaps there’s a malfunction. That’s all.”

I remained still in the crouch I was in. My feet were asleep and I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, but I knew that if I jumped out now there was an 80% chance they will be frightened and a 20% chance they will attack.  A 100% chance it will end poorly.

“I really don’t know how you do that,” Short Round was saying, “I mean you all of a sudden don’t say anything but you have this bemused expression on your face I don’t understand how you have dots floating in the air like that but neat trick.”

Short Round and Admin came into sight, tripping over papers and cabinets and maneuvering around obstacles. Animalistic instinct kicked in, and I had half a mind to pounce at them. However, doing so will guarantee shock and confusion and attack.

I settled on standing up.

“Hello-”

“WHO WHAT WHEN HOW WHERE HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?!” screamed Short Round, dropping the remote control and stumbling backwards. His foot caught the edge of a filing cabinet and he fell backwards into Admin. They both crashed to the floor. I stared at the two, feeling my fingers go numb and the ease of having no expression set in. After a long while, my right eyebrow went up and I crossed my arms.

“The better question is, what are you doing here?” I questioned, then realizing the obvious, “and what did you do with my hockey stick!?”

My demand was received with a downward turn of corners at the mouth and a frown from Short Round – a pure look of confusion. Admin raised his eyebrow in return and just looked bemused. I refused to break eye contact with him.

“As you can see, my hockey stick is not with me. I would like it back,” I said, staring at Admin. Something about his face… No, something about him put me on edge. Short, dirty blonde hair that curled at the end. Traces of facial hair along his jaw. Blue eyes that were clear, gentle. Too clear, too gentle. Hiding something.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he looked away with a sigh.

“What makes you thing WE took your hockey stick!?” Short Round cried, unnoticing of the exchange between Admin and I. He got to his feet and brushed his jeans off (they were too short on him; you could see white socks poking between the hem and old runners). His actions were apathetic and almost childish, not in an immature way but in one that suggested innocence. And yet he could produce such a machine that could do extraordinary things…

No.

This was the work of Admin. Admin who, noticed Short Round wandering the streets, approached and ‘made friends’. To which Admin is now using Short Round as a vessel. A ship. A host. Someone who can hold his ideas and take the bullet when push comes to shove. I felt my teeth clench, biting back a remark on the atmosphere and a question to prove my theory accurate.

I never noticed Admin get to his feet, but he was off maneuvering around cabinets. Short Round wiggled the joystick of the remote controller and it was received with a whistle.

“Can you hear it?” he asked, tongue sliding out of his mouth as the rest of his face managed to compress together in concentration. I relaxed my jaw and walked to where he stood, pushing the joystick forward then backwards.

“Drēje,” came the reply from Admin. It was not English. It was far from English, but what language I did not know. It didn’t sound earthly in the least.

“I’m accompanying you,” I said, feeling my ground be stood, “until you give me back my hockey stick.”

Short Round sighed, but didn’t protest. Admin stared at me. Eyes digging into my own. I hopped around the cabinet. I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the beetles I forgotten. Maybe Short Round will know what they are. I settled on the fact that together, we can find the others… and my hockey stick.