Running Free

Chapter 7 | The Chancellor

After class, I quickly walk to the Chancellors office, anxiously wondering what happened to Noah after he was kicked out of class. Just like every other kid in our class, I'm curious as to what happened. Though I haven't been attending this college for very long, I can pick out a fair share of who's a troublemaker and who's not and I bet that Noah is not one of those people.

Inside the vast office, an older woman who looks like she's in her 50's sits at the front desk. Her ginger colored hair is tightly tied up in a bun, streaks of gray highlighting it. Large framed glasses that look to be from the 80's cover her eyes with wrinkles lightly framing her face, over her lips and near her eyes. Her bright red lips are pursed as she types away on her computer, her nimble fingers pounding on the keys. A golden metal plaque rests in front of the back of her computer screen, the words Ms. Eveans | Secretary etched onto the material.

I lightly cough, grabbing Ms. Evenas attention. It's my first time even talking to her and so far, I'm not impressed. She doesn't even try to make eye contact with me as she says, "How may I help you?" Her voice comes out dry and miserable.

My mind struggles to figure out how to word what I'd like to say. Either I sound like a stalker, or....well there is no 'or'. Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, I reply, "Uh, do you know if a boy came here recently?"

Yes, because that's sooo specific.

"Name," Ms. Eveans asks, sounding annoyed at my presence. I bet she probably thinks I'm some desperate college student or something.

"Noah...Branch or something like that," I say to her. I've always been horrible with names. It's funny because I'd be that one person who would get a pair of siblings names mixed up when they're not even twins.

Is that the best you can do? Come on, use at least a little effort.

I keep glancing at the white clock that's hung up above the doorway. The numbers are written in Roman numerals instead of the regular fashion that I'm used to seeing. The two hands on the clock stay still as a sliver of red plastic ticks around the clock.

Click, click, click.

Like a game of Russian Roulette.

Load, spin, pull. Load, spin, pull.

Click, click, click.

10:25.

Ms. Eveans raises one eyebrow at me suspiciously, "Miss, are you paying attention?" She asks me in a deadpan tone. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, preventing them from slipping off her face.

Wait, did she say something?

I snap out of my concentration and pay my attention back to her, "Uh, I'm sorry, what?"

It's just a stupid glock.

No, clock. It's a clock.

"If you were listening, I said, is the kid you're looking for Noah Branchard?" Now she sounds more annoyed than ever. She quickly glances up at me for a split of a second, her green eyes darkening, shooting darks filled with an eerie poison. Then the second is gone, and she's back to looking at the damn screen.

"Yes, that's him." I peep out.

"Well he's not here. However, he was earlier for sleeping in class, but I had him leave about fifteen minutes ago," Ms. Eveans informs me, her eyes still trained on the computer screen. "Stupid college kids these days," She mumbles underneath her breath.