Dedicated to: Whoa1Dtho
Hehe, I like your username! :3
Soooo thanks for your opinion. And it’s awesome that you’ve read my other story. Which I also haven’t updated in like forever. . . But anyway! Thanks for le contribution and I hope you’re still reading this.
. . . I mean when was the last time I uploaded this?
Three years ago?
Might as well be.
Enjoy le chapter, people! Commenters still get dedications. Not proofread, though. Don’t mind any mistakes.
* * *
September 13th
Agent R. Harris is questioned.
23: The Announcement
Date: September 13th
“Ladies and gentleman, please settle down.”
I watch the man who stands at the podium. The voice belongs to Christopher Jacobs, whose blue eyes are incredibly bright underneath the lights of the assembly room.
Even without looking at the stage, anyone would figure out it was him. The room quiets down to a complete silence in such a way that only Christopher Jacobs could take credit for. Where I sit, in the far left hand corner of the auditorium, I feel the room become sharper somehow. Every ear anticipates his cold, hard, words over the surround sound system.
“As your assistant principal it is my duty to ensure the school’s safety,” Jacobs says. I can see the shine of his polished black shoes from where I am. It distracts me for a moment.
Alex nudges me from where he sits on my right, snapping me out of my thoughts, to get me to move over a seat for the student who needs to sit down.
“And that is why we’re here,” he says, and he pauses for a moment. When he continues, he clears his throat before he speaks. “Some of you may have already heard this from your fellow class members, I’m sure. They were nothing but rumors, at the time. However, it has been confirmed that two of the members of our community have been reported missing.”
If it’s possible, the room gets even quieter.
“At this point in time the police have no leads. Any information that might be useful is welcome, and if anyone knows something I urge you to come forward and speak to a member of the faculty. I’m sure the families of Adrian Nichols and Mr. Masters will be grateful to know that . . .”
I tune him out and turn to look at Alex. I open my mouth to say something, but I am interrupted by the sound of sniffling. Alex turns away from me to find the source and my head follows his.
Sitting behind us, there are three girls comforting one girl who sits in the middle of them, a brunette, sobbing silently into a napkin. I blink at them. Then I notice why they look familiar.
They’re the four girls that were flirting with Adrian when I broke up with him.
One of the girls comforting the one in the middle looks up at me and scowls. I raise an eyebrow at them. “Could you be quiet?” I say sourly. “I can’t hear.”
The girl’s mouth drops open as all four girls look up at me. A sweet smile lights up my face. “Better.”
I turn around and face forward again. For some reason, the sight of a girl crying over Adrian’s absence annoys me. Maybe because it’s ridiculous. These people don’t know who Adrian is. They don’t even know who his cover is; he’s only been here as long as I have, and that doesn’t leave enough time for people to really know him—or his cover.
“I ask that you all return to class and try to continue the rest of your day. If you do not feel up to it, you may return to your dorms. Attendance will not be taken.”
Slowly, people stand and turn to leave.
“Rachel Williams,” Jacobs says over the loudspeaker, and some students pause to stare at me. I glance at Alex. He shrugs in response. I turn back to the front of the room, and I am met with a hard stare from the man standing on stage. “I’d like to see you in my office.”
I stand from my chair. Suddenly I lock gazes with another four girls. The Cherubim watch my every move as I make my way down the large auditorium steps. And of all their gazes, I feel Susan’s the most.
. . .
"Let me just start off by saying how sorry I am that you've had to experience this," the man apologizes to me.
I watch him quietly as he sits at his desk, taking in the way he pours himself tea, and the way he makes his voice come out laced with pity. He's lying, I know, but he does a good job of making it seem real. I almost believe him.
Except I don't.
"This might sound strange coming from your assistant principal," he says, mixing sugar into his tea, "but I know about your previous relationship with Adrian Nichols. And although it seems you weren't as close recently as you were before, I know this type of news must be hard to hear."
I blink at the man. He isn't looking at me, but I can tell he's aware of my movements as I am aware of his. I narrow my eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, bringing his face up to meet my gaze.
I stare blankly in response.
"Nothing to say?" he says, and I don't like the way he says it, as if he's mocking me.
So I scowl at him. "You just told the whole school that my ex-boyfriend is missing, and now you're trying to—I don't know—connect with me or something, after first meeting me when I was hanging around some other guy not long after the break-up." My eyes move from his to wander around the room. "So no, I do not have anything to say."
I adjust my sitting position on the brown leather couch, but every move I make only makes me more uncomfortable. Mr. Jacobs' office is far from cozy. Everything is brown. Brown desk, chairs, walls. And wood. There's wood everywhere, too. It reminds me of a ranch where someone might find the head of a bear hung up over a fireplace, except the bear would still be dripping blood onto the floors, straight from the kill.
Needless to say, it suits his personality.
"So you're feeling guilty," Jacobs comments. "That's not uncommon."
I sigh and look back at him. He stares at me from above his tea cup. "Why am I in here?" I ask, running my hands over my eyes lightly. I give him a tired expression. "What do you want from me?"
Jacobs puts down the cup. "I'm sorry if I've made this harder for you by calling you in here," he says. His attempt to add sincerity to his words is a failed one. His voice is forbidding; emotionless. But then, I'm almost positive that he's making it that way on purpose. "It's just that the police need information about the last person who saw him before he went missing. And I thought that might be you."
Now I turn my complete attention to him. “What?” I ask, taken aback.
I inspect Mr. Jacobs’ face, looking for some sort of tell. He knows much more than he is letting on. A sickening feeling rises into my stomach as his icy blue eyes cast a cold chill on my face. Who is this man?
I fight to keep my voice solid. “Why would I have been the last person to see him? We were broken up.”
“Right.” There isn’t a trace of a smile in the man’s expression, but somehow I still feel as if he’s smirking at me. “But there were witnesses who saw Adrian at the last assembly that was held.”
My throat becomes dry in seconds. Witnesses? No. We were careful.
“And they claim that he left during the assembly with two people that are very well known around the school.”
He watches my face for a second, but I make no change in my expression. “Of course, they wouldn’t tell me who the two people were,” he continues, straightening a pile of papers on his desk, “but I thought maybe you were one of them.”
“You think I kidnapped my ex-boyfriend?” I say, my voice rising in volume. “What kind of sick person would do that?”
Christopher Jacobs does not answer me. Instead he just stares across the room at me, without emotion and without reason. And so we sit there unmoving, and the yellow light above our heads flickers, as it usually does when the fan it is attached to clicks every so often.
“You may to return to class, Ms. Williams,” he says suddenly. “That will be all.”