10. Roommates

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       September 1st
       Agent R. Harris meets Susan Mitchell.

       Ch. 10: Roommates
       Date: September 1st

When I'm halfway to the school's main building, I realize I'm walking alone. My fingers tighten around the handles of my suitcases.

       I may be a spy, but clearly I'm way out of it right now. Because I just left my boyfriend behind in a sea of students that attend a modeling school, and the majority of the kids outside were females.

      But what makes this so bad is that I don't even care.

      I look back to see where they are and find Adrian speaking to Alex in a very tense demeanor. Sighing, I drag my bags back to where they stand.

      This is so unnecessary.

      My suitcases roll off the ground and onto a patch of grass. As I come into view, Alex’s face lights up in a smile, but I completely ignore his presence. Because there’s really no point in acknowledging him.

      Although I wish he’d wipe that smile off his face.

      Glaring at nothing in particular, I pull Adrian with me, and together we begin to walk towards the main building. I’m not fully relaxed until we get inside and I see the sign that reads, Welcome to Smile Academy.

      But I’m not really paying attention to the sign as I stare at the second most polished place I’ve ever seen in my life. I know what my house looks like, and trust me, there isn’t a scratch on anything there. But this school is pretty well-kept too. Stainless tile floors, hand crafted staircases, sculptures of their ancestors; it's very . . . classy.

      The big hall is divided in two; one side for the girls and one for the boys.

      When we walk through the double doors, Adrian walks to his section and leaves me all alone in the big hall. I blink at him as he walks away. He’s not even going to tell me what all that was about?

      It’s times like these where I wonder what has kept Adrian and I together these past two years.

      Slightly annoyed, I turn around and walk into the main office, still pulling my suitcases behind me.

      “Hello, I’m Rachel Williams . . . I'm looking for my schedule and room key,” I say to the secretary. It comes out as a question.

      “Ah, yes. The new student,” says the lady at the desk. The drawl of her voice advertises a thick southern accent as she searches through her paper work. Me being the trained agent that I am, I memorize every inch of the room in case it’s needed later. “Here you are.”

      She hands me a room key that holds the three digit room number of my room and a piece of paper with my schedule. Over my shoulder, I notice without looking that girls have started filing into the girls’ section of the main building.

      I don’t have to take another look at her to tell she’s nervous about something, as she watches over my head through the clear doors. Her posture has changed, her skin has paled a little, and behind her desk, she’s playing with her hands nervously.

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