The Gradebook

Chapter 8: Krypto-Knight

I didn’t let any thought burst into my mind, and snatched the paper from Adrian without a second glance. He seemed dumbfounded for a second, but then he rushed out the door, down the stairs, and to the entrance, step in step with me.

I thrusted my feet into my white pumps while grabbing my cell phone, and crumpled up the sheet before I placed it into one of my pockets.

I called Alec through speed-dial. After a couple of rings, which went by with myself gritting my teeth together, he picked up with an alert voice.

“You’re supposed to pick me up in a half-hour, but come now! I have an emergency,” I commanded in a hushed voice. “Er, sorry, I meant... Pretty please?”

“Alright, Mia, don’t get your panties in a bunch, I’m coming,” Alec joked and a long buzzing sound came from the other line.

Adrian sat opposite me at the dining table in the kitchen with a sympathizing look when the bell rang. With a last glare at him, I ran over to the door, seized my bag, and stepped over the threshold, outside. Locking the door quickly, I turned around to grasp Alec in an air-constricting hug.

“Thanks so much for bringing me to the concert; it really means a lot, Alec. But we have to make another stop before we get there,” I explained to him.

His hair dishevelled and shirt crumpled from my endearing action, he smoothed it out. “Hello to you, cutiepie. This is the emergency, I guess?”

“Yep. Think you can take me to Collector’s Paradise?” I asked, my eyes shut together in case he’d refuse. He probably didn’t have the time or the gas or the patience...

I arched my eyebrow as he said, “I was going there myself.”

***

“One hundred fifty!” I hollered at the top of my lungs. I regretted the decision instantly, knowing my voice would be gone by morning.

But I also almost regretted the amount of money I’d placed on a rectangular tube of... what was it? Special trading cards? Of all kinds? Whatever it was, all the other items at the auction were pretty much the same as what I was bidding on.

A scream emerged from the corner of the stuffy room. “One hundred seventy-five!” I turned around as much as I could with at least ten people blocking my view, and saw a middle-aged man with thick-set glasses throwing his paper with his number up.

In an almost bored voice, I boomed over the babble of the host. “Two hundred and that better be final!”

The host kept prattling in an irritating tone and I could vaguely hear him counting down.

Three. Only two more counts to go and I’d be out of this hole I’d dug myself into and out to inhale some real air.

Two. A count left. I could finally lock this item into my trunk without a care if I could just get a hold of it. Then I could go to the concert and I’d really have made the quickest errand of my life.