CHAPTER 1
Ian walked down a hallway, his footsteps soundless on the plush brown carpet, wood paneled walls on either side. He stopped in front of the door at far end with Principal written on it in black. He looked at his watch; 9 AM. About time, he thought and knocked softly. Without waiting for an answer, he let himself in, hesitating a little at the doorway; he walked to the assistant’s desk. She was a middle aged lady with thick glasses, thin lips and graying hair tied up in a neat bun. She was looking through some papers when he reached the desk and she looked up
“Good morning, May I help you?” she asked pleasantly.
“Good morning. Uh, I’m Ian Thomas. I just got admission in this college. Transfer student from Italy. I was asked to meet the Principal before starting my classes.” He hesitated a little, “so, I-“
“Came to see the Principal?” she interrupted with a smile, “I’ll inform him. Please take a seat while you wait for his call.” She beckoned him to a sofa at one corner of the room.
“Thank you.”
He walked to the sofa and sat down, picking up a newspaper lying on the coffee table, pretending to read it.
I shouldn’t have transferred, he thought with his eyes fixed on a picture of a house on fire. What got into me? Oh yeah, bigger city, better opportunity, he mocked his own reasoning. Should have stayed there, he looks up at the assistant, sitting behind her small table, now talking on the phone.
Should have-
“Mr. Thomas? The Principal would like to see you now,” the assistant said.
“Thank you,” he got up and walked to the door in the assistant’s room. “I’ll see myself into his- err, yes, you first, please,” he added hastily as the assistant briskly walked to the door ahead of him. She opened the door and stood aside, allowing him to walk in. he entered the room slowly, a little nervous. The assistant closed the door behind him softly, leaving him alone with the principal.
Ian faced a huge window wall before which was the principal’s huge ivory desk. The room was large and the walls on either side were furnished with ivory bookshelves and cabinets, trophies and medals sparkling in them. The principal was seated behind his desk and only when Ian reached him did he get up and gave him a bright smile.
“Mr. Thomas. Welcome to London first of all. Please, take a seat.”
Ian thanked him quietly and sat opposite the principal. He looked at the name card on the desk which said F.L.Fleming.
He sat down too and smiled, “I hope you are having a good time here,” he said conversationally.
“Yes, sir. It’s, err, a great place,” he chose his words carefully. Obviously I’m not going to tell him I almost got robbed last night. Bigger city, more crimes.
“Good! Well, let’s get down to business, shall we?” he adopted a more formal tone, “remind me again why you decided to transfer?”
“Because I wish to continue my education in a bigger university so I can have better accomplishments and advancement into my career,” he voiced for the fiftieth time. Does that even make sense?
“Italy is no small country to pursue a career and education in, too,” he looked at Ian questioningly.
“No, sir, it’s not,” he said, suppressing his irritation. He thought the answer would have satisfied him and not prompt further questions. “But I prefer London for it.” He tried putting a final-answer-no-more-questions firmness to his voice.
