Dark Retaliation: Greenwood Academy

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: ZEEM'S SECRET

Lota stood in the kitchen gazing at the phone in her hand. Her mind filtered through everything the woman had said and then it hit her. Zeem had mentioned transferring earlier, suddenly a strange woman calls about an institute they're expected in. Definitely no coincidence.

 "That backstabbing son of a...ugh!" She tossed the phone onto the counter carelessly, turned on her heels and raced to his bedroom.

 "Zeem, we need to talk!" Lota barged into his room fuming. "Zeem! Zeem!" Zeem turned to her, looking a bit irritated. He pointed at the phone he held to his ear and gestured for her to leave.

Lota pursed her lips, scowling at him. She shut the door behind her and folded her arms. She wasn't planning on leaving, not until he gave her some answers. She walked to his bed—noting the suitcase on the floor—and sat down, choosing to wait while wishing she could strangle him with her bare hands.

 Seeing that Lota wasn't planning on leaving, Zeem left the room to continue his conversation in private. Lota glared at him till he was out the door but he didn't seem to care much—though he did give her a suspicious look right before he shut the door.

Lota got up from the bed when she was certain he had gone, she rushed to the suitcase on the floor. He hadn't mentioned any travel plans so why did he have his suitcase out—unless of course, he had another agenda. She unzipped the suitcase but was disappointed to find it empty. She scanned the room, searching for clues. A pile of clothes was scattered on an armchair next to his closet, a litter of shoes on the floor. This was odd. Zeem never left a mess. The guy was neurotic about keeping things tidy. Lota couldn't remember a time when she'd stepped into his room to find it in such chaos. A trait she'd always found intimidating.

 Lota peeked underneath the bed and Voila! Another suitcase.

 "Eureka!" She reached in and dragged out the box. A much smaller case than the latter. Inside, was an ancient cell phone and charger—one of the archaic models from the early 2000s that came with extendable antennas, not the ultra-thin glass models with transparent screens everyone carries now—a tablet, flashlight with extra batteries, and a radio. It also had some clothes, a pair of sneakers, toiletries, some canned food and water, and a gas mask. Lota sighed in disappointment. She wasn't sure exactly what she was hoping to find but it certainly wasn't this. This was his emergency suitcase. Their dad had insisted they each had one after watching a sad apocalyptic documentary from 2020.

 "Just my luck," Lota said. She was just about to close the box when something caught her attention. A brown paper envelope sticking out from the inner pocket of the box. She pulled it out and ripped it open. She pulled out the neatly stacked papers held together with an office pin and tossed the envelope aside.

 The first paper had no useful information. On it was a crest; the image of a gold dragon wrapped around a grand tree atop a large G fused into a W, and the word PROFILE printed out boldly. The second paper, on the other hand, left her wide-eyed. The page had detailed info on Zeem; from his full name to his favourite music band. She flipped over the next couple of pages, more information on Zeem. And then information on her, every single thing about her down to the colour of her eyes. Lota was perplexed. How long had Zeem been putting all these together? The last paper was a signed contract saying that they both would be enrolled in a school called Goldex Academy till they complete a training program. Lota was livid.

 "If this isn't a practical joke, someone's got a lot of explaining to do." Her thoughts were interrupted by Zeem's voice. He's back, she thought whipping her head in his direction. Still on the phone; his voice growing louder as he approached. She hurriedly put back everything in its place and sat back on the bed. She was angry but decidedly calm, she was going to be mature about this; there had to be a good explanation for all this.