Not Just Another Number

Talking To Creel

Christine's POV

I cross my arms over my chest as I walk side by side with Nancy and Robin as we walk up to the front doors of Pennhurst. I hunch in on myself, skin itching at the feeling of Nancy's clothes. I already hate this plan.

Robin seems to share my sentiment. She groans and tugs at the collar of her blouse, complaining to Nancy as we walk. "I can't breathe in this thing, and I'm itchy. I'm itching all over." I nod along with her, dropping my arms and gripping onto the fabric of the skirt Nancy forced me to where.

Nancy rolls her eyes and looks over at us. "It's not all about comfort. Okay? We're academics. And Christine, stop messing with your skirt!" She scolds me, eyes narrowing in annoyance. I sigh, but let go of the skirt. Why couldn't I have worn nice pants?

Robin scoffs at Nancy's words. "Who are evidently coming straight from Easter brunch. Also," she lowers her voice, reaching her hand into her cardigan, "this bra you gave me is really pinching my boobs."

I immediately look away from Robin as she adjusts herself, eyes widening a little at her words. Nancy just sighs, staring ahead at the giant building in front of us. "Okay. Can you just let me do the talking? If that's even possible?"

"It's not only possible, it's inevitable. Because shortly, I'll be dead from strangulation." Robin tells her as we walk up the front steps. Nancy shakes her head and ignores her, walking a little faster.

Robin sighs, tugging at her collar again. I look back at her, a small frown etched on my face at her discomfort. I reach out and touch her arm lightly. She stops grabbing at her collar and looks over at me, raising an eyebrow.

I tilt my head to the side and I smile, trying to make her feel better. "If you die, I'll plan the perfect funeral for you." I joke. Her eyes widen and she smiles. Her smile makes my heart flip and my palms sweat. "Really?" She asks.

"Of course," I say, dropping my hand, "Though, if I die first, you have to promise to do the same, okay? I swear, Nancy's secretly trying to kill us with these outfits." I laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. She laughs too, shaking her head at me.

"Guys!" Nancy's voice cuts through our laughter, making us look up at her. She has a serious look on her face, and standing next to her is a tall man in uniform. She gestures for us to follow her with her head, before being led by the man.

I drop my arms and grab at my skirt again. "Guess it's time." I mumble before looking back up at Robin. She hums with a nod. We both walk together, catching up with Nancy and we're quickly led to an office.

He knocks on the door and a quiet 'Come in' sounds from inside. He opens the door just wide enough for us to see Dr.Hatch sitting at his desk, looking over files. The man clears his throat, nodding over at us. "Sir, these girls here to speak with you. They want to interview Victor Creel."

Dr.Hatch looks up from his files at us, looking us over with a quizzical stare. I keep my face straight, trying to hide my nerves as much as I can. He nods for the man to let us in.

The man lets us in and closes the door behind us, leaving us alone with Dr.Hatch. He gestures at the three chairs in front of his desk, and we sit. Nancy places our folders on his desk, a polite smile on her face as she does.

Dr.Hatch doesn't speak, just grabs our folders and inspects each and every one of them. He hums after a while. "3.9 GPAs. All three of you. Impressive." He says before closing the folder in his hand. He lays it on his desk and finally looks at us.

Nancy, ready for anything I'd assume, hands over a piece of paper. "And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantley."

Dr.Hatch smiles as he reads the letter. "Yeah, I know Larry. Quite well, actually." He tells us. The palms of my hands start to sweat so much that I have to discreetly wipe them on my skirt. Dr.Hatch nods and puts the paper down. "Eh, you know what they say, 'Those who can't do, teach'." He starts to laugh at his own joke, making Robin start to laugh along with him, albeit very awkwardly. I smile politely at him instead.