"Hey!"
The shout made Ambrose and I turn around, caught out from our mindless chit-chat as we meandered our way to class. A girl with red hair piled together into a bun and glasses stormed towards us with a face of pure thunder.
The bustling campus court was a flood of students, but that didn't stop her from causing a scene.
"Hey!" she shouted again, scrambling to a stop a few metres before us and glaring at me as if I was the particular reason for her misery. Ambrose and I stared in surprise.
"Do I know you?" I asked, tilting my head. She definitely wasn't from my class; it'd been three months since I started my course and I knew enough of my classmates that this particular girl wasn't in Psych 101 or History and Mythology 101.
She balled her fists. Her glare sharpened.
"Are you Y/n L/n?"
But apparently, she knew me.
"Uhhh." I shared a look with Ambrose, my resident undercover body guard. He shrugged. "N- no. I'm, uh..." quick, think of a first name. "Jamie." Now think of a last name. "Garmadon."
NOT THAT LAST NAME.
The look Ambrose sent me was withering. The look I mentally sent myself was of similar caliber.
"I'm not dumb!" the girl hissed before quickly glancing down at her phone. She looked from me to it a number of times as she made double sure that I was who she was looking for. "Y- yeah, as I said, one hundred percent Y/n L/n!"
Good detecting skills, Sherlock.
"Nope," Ambrose said with a shake of his head. He linked his arm through mine and hauled me into his side. I stared blankly at the girl. "This is definitely Jamie Garmadon. Long lost cousin of Lloyd Garmadon or something, I don't care. Au revoir!"
Ambrose turned, pulling me along with him to continue our walk to class. My feet stumbled.
"Cousin?" I hissed under my breath.
"I was working with peanut shells, Y/n."
"Don't walk away from me!" the girl screeched, chasing after us and yanking on my arm. I stumbled back with a squeak. I was trapped between them. "I'm not letting her go!"
"Good grief," Ambrose muttered before turning back to the girl with a pleasant smile. "Hi. Please leave us alone."
"No!"
"This is attempted kidnapping," I groaned, struggling to free my arm from her vice grip. People were beginning to stare.
"Look, dude, we have class in thirty," Ambrose grumbled. "Whatever you've got going on, can it wait?"
I sent the elemental master a look out of the side of my eyes. He hated going to classes, and he didn't even attend to do the work, only to keep me from being assassinated by possible stalkers. He was just desperate to get away from this crazy chic. To be fair, so was I.
I gave an experimental tug. Her grip tightened into steel, nails digging through the material of my long sleeve shirt.
"Ow..." I whimpered to myself.
"This can't wait!" the girl insisted, bringing me forward towards her. I made a sound from the back of my throat as I teetered, unbalanced. "It's too important!"
Ambrose ran a hand down his face. He pulled me back towards him. My foot tangled across my calf and I fell into his torso. He barely budged.
This was growing tiresome.
"Yeah, well, it's not cool to just come up and yell at my friend," he snapped. "So either you apologise or scurry off and leave us alone."
The girl's face scrunched into a look of frustration. She swiftly bowed her head.
"I'm sorry!" she yelled, before tugging on my arm. "Please, come with me!"
Ambrose raised his eyes to the heavens.
"I have a feeling she's not gonna take 'no' for an answer," I murmured to him. He made a grunt of agreement. "Fine, take us to your... cult, or whatever."
The girl beamed before turning and pulling me towards her desired location. Her strong grip gave me no other choice but to follow along wordlessly and see how it plays out.
It seemed that my theory about it being a cult was half-correct. I began to panic as soon as I saw the paper tapped to the door with 'green ninja fan club' written in green sharpie.
Look, okay, the ninja's fans are... devoted. But I couldn't criticise them too harshly.
Just the other week, they single-handedly raised over sixty thousand dollars for the orphanage that the team visited to say hi to the kids (the photos were incredibly cute and I have more than a couple saved to my phone).
They basically broke Twitter and Instagram talking about it and plugging the donation link, as well as fawning over how cute the team was with the kids.
But their fans could also be incredibly terrifying.
Stan Twitter was one thing. I knew how to avoid these kinds of things in public and everything was different when you're behind the screen of your phone. But people still say and think these things about the team, Twitter handle or not, and to be in the same physical room as them?
If they knew who I was to the green ninja?
