Ron had a different mission for me today. Stalking was out of the question since I threw a fit whenever he mentioned it. There was no way I was going to stalk Ryan Wilson again. I didn't want to put my dignity at risk. Besides, I couldn't face him after what happened yesterday. It was too embarrassing.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon and I still had one more class to attend but for the sake of this stupid mission, I ditched it. I sat at the table across the Registrar's Office, trying to look harmless, while waiting for the right moment to strike. It was good that there were no students loitering around. It was odd enough that I was out here during class hours. I didn't need a witness.
The mission was quite simple. Ron wanted me to break into that office, find Ryan Wilson's file, and get his home address. When I asked about his motives, he told me that he wanted to spend the freaking weekend stalking Ryan, but since we didn't know where he lived, it left us no choice. We had to get his address no matter what. It wasn't like we didn't ask around. We talked to his classmates but they didn't have any idea. He was mysterious and quite secretive about his life so nobody really knew his personal details. Only the Registrar's Office had that information and it sucked because I was about to do something that would probably send me to the Disciplinary Office or, worse, get me kicked out of school.
I had never, in my entire life, broken a single school rule. I may not be smart but I made sure that I was, at the very least, a responsible student. I had been good yet here I was, foolishly throwing everything away. If I got caught breaking into an office and stealing information, if my mom found out, she would turn into a monster and eat me alive. God, I must be out of my mind. I must be crazy for letting Ron drag me along his schemes.
Sighing, I looked at the small brown bottle he gave me. He said that this was the key and I should cling to it as if my life depended on it. He carefully instructed me to put this to Mrs. Popkin's coffee and assured me that after she drank it, the coast would be clear.
"Is this... Is this poison?" I choked when he handed it to me.
He simply laughed. "No, it's just laxative."
I looked at the thing with disdain. "This gives off an evil vibe, you know?"
"Don't worry, she'll be alright," he said dismissively. "Remember, you must not be seen putting this in her drink or else we'll both be skinned alive."
"That's basic," I replied. "Where the heck did you get this idea anyway?"
He grinned evilly. "From Mr. Bean."
I don't think I'd ever see him again in the same light. I was a fan of Mr. Bean too but I didn’t extend it to actually following his examples. I guess Ron was different in every way. I realized I didn't want to be his enemy no matter what. The things he could do to me...
Shudder.
Just then, Mrs. Popkin stood up and went to the back of the office where, I assumed, the small kitchen was. When she came back, she was holding a mug of freshly made coffee. I wondered how Ron knew that Mrs. Popkin had her coffee break at this time. Maybe he stalked her, too.
God, what a creep.
The phone rang. Mrs. Popkin reached for the phone and I watched as her face turned deadly serious. She nodded a few times and dashed out of the office as soon as the call ended. She ran upstairs. What happened? It looked urgent.
Beep.
I fished my phone out. I received a text from Ron and it said:
I distracted Mrs. Popkin. I'll buy you some time. Go!
His commitment to this never failed to astonish me. Shaking my head, I stood up and cautiously approached the office. I checked left and right. Fortunately, there was still no one around. I quietly made my way to the table where the brown mug was placed. I noticed that her coffee was almost black. Didn't she put cream? I liked my coffee with cream.
I opened the lid of the small bottle and nervously poured the contents. To my surprise, it was powder and not liquid. I didn't know how much I should put in so I emptied the whole bottle. God, I hoped I didn't kill her with this. I stirred the liquid with a teaspoon and once I was done, I retreated to the back of the room and hid there. I waited for Mrs. Popkin to return. I had to make sure that our plan worked.
A few minutes later, she came back, looking angry. She sat behind her table and drank from her mug without a second thought. I counted in my head.
One little sheep.
Two little sheep.
Three little sheep.
Four little sheep.
Five little –
Her stomach rumbled.
"Ouch," she groaned while holding her tummy. Her face contorted in pain and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. "Ouch," she cried again as she randomly clutched sheets of paper. Ball pens and paper clips fell to the floor. She continued to moan for the next two minutes.
I sat there, frozen. Oh my god, what had I done? Was I killing Mrs. Popkin? I thought about spending the rest of my life behind metal bars, the horrible prison food, the possibility of getting bullied there by my fellow inmates... Crap, I was only seventeen but I was going to have a criminal record. Murder. Oh no.
I was about to reveal myself and usher her to the clinic when I heard something like a balloon rapidly losing air. In a matter of seconds, a nasty reeking smell surrounded the whole place and I couldn't breathe. Mrs. Popkin farted. I watched as she scrambled to get out of the office. Based on the direction she had gone, she was on her way to the ladies' bathroom.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that she was not going to die. Rather, she was going to spend the rest of the afternoon taking a dump in one of the cubicles. I inwardly laughed. I mean, hey, it wasn't every day that I got to do something like this. And I must admit it was pretty funny and cool. If I ever became a famous spy agent, I would be called the Poop Jerker. Ha!
I turned around and found myself facing a wooden door. I tried to open it. Thank god it wasn't locked! I stared at the long room with lots of cabinet drawers neatly positioned against the walls. I decided I couldn't waste a second. I pulled drawers after drawers, looking for the one with Ryan's file in it. It didn't take me long to find it. There, at the far end of the room near the trash bin, stood a cabinet where I believed Ryan's file was stacked. I pulled open the said drawer and began hunting Ryan's surname amidst the sea of surnames starting with the letter W.
Wilmer, Johnson E.
William, Samantha A.
Wilnard, Frederick S.
Wilson, George R.
Oh, here it is!
I yanked his file and read it.
Name: Wilson, Ryan E.
Birthday: February 16, 1997
Sex: Male
Contact Number: None
Address: #114 Happy St. Green Homes Subdivision
Father's Name: None
Wait, what did this thing mean by none? Didn't Ryan have a father?
Father's Occupation: None
Mother's Name: Sandra Wilson
Mother's Occupation: Deceased
I stared at that word for a whole minute. Deceased? His mother was dead? So who took care of him? He must be lonely. Did he have a relative or something? Wait, what was I thinking? I was wasting time. I should just take this paper with me and read it later. I felt bad about it though. It was like I was prying into his personal life.
The door creaked. My heart went up my throat. With trembling hands, I put Ryan's file back and pushed the drawer close. I hid behind the trash bin and kept silent. Why did Mrs. Popkin return too soon? Damn. If I got caught here, I swore I'd pluck the hairs off of Ron's legs until he cried blood. If I got kicked out of school, I would sell his organs to bad people.
I had to figure a way out of here unnoticed. But how?
Tap, tap, tap.
Why did Mrs. Popkin's footsteps sound so big?
Tap, tap, tap.
Okay, those didn't sound feminine at all.
Tap, tap, tap.
I risked a glance towards the sound of the footsteps and my heart froze in my throat as I processed what I was seeing.
Holy mothballs.
It was not Mrs. Popkin. It was Ryan! What the heck was he doing here? I began to panic. If he caught me here... Oh my god, I wouldn't be able to take it. I would die of shame. My palms started to sweat. I desperately tried to calm down. I reminded myself that all I needed to do was be quiet. He would not see me. I bet he was going to leave soon. I mean, a boring room with cabinets wasn't enough to hold his interest, right?
Suddenly, I felt something small and cold crawling its way up my arm. At first, I ignored it because I thought it was just my nerves getting the better of me, but then there was no sensation like that in the other parts of my body. Slowly, I turned my head and looked at my arm. My eyes landed on the most disgusting insect in the world.
A cockroach.
And as I stared at it, horrified, there was no more Ryan. No more expulsion. No more discretion. It was just me and the cockroach in the battlefield, and I did the only thing I could think of.
I screamed.