One Hundred

Chapter Eight

The school bell rings and it’s time to head back in for afternoon classes. Titus has chemistry and I have maths. We won’t have a chance to speak again in private. We will be heading to Mr Gilmore’s office straight from our final class. I feel gutted. After our whole conversation I feel like I have been left floundering with more questions than answers.   

 At three twenty-five, I head towards the principal’s office. I pray that I will run into Titus along the way so that I can ask him more questions. Our principal is Mr Gilmore, who is a portly yet kindly man of sixty-five. His secretary is Miss Trudy, a young woman of nineteen. Her mother was the previous secretary before her, but had to retire when she had a stroke, coincidentally in the same year that Miss Trudy sat her aptitudes. Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, at least with respect to career choices for the subs. Miss Trudy, however, is quite different from her stern mother, who called herself Mrs Stott. Today, Miss Trudy is wearing a charming baby blue ensemble, which she has clearly fashioned herself, most likely using her mother’s old clothes. When I walk through the door, she is busy sealing envelopes.

“ Good afternoon Aida.” she pronounces clearly and cheerily with a smile, “have a sit down on the couch and Mr Gilmore will be just one minute.”

Clearly she has no idea as to the serious trouble I am in.

 Ten minutes lapses and nothing has happened. I can hear the sound of conversation from inside. Mr Gilmore is not alone. So this isn’t just an interview with Mr Gilmore, then. My Stomach sinks and my heart bursts.

 “Ah, Miss Trudy, can you tell me who is in the office with Mr Gilmore?”

 “Well,” she says, “I don’t really know because you see, I didn’t see them enter.” She continues licking envelopes as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Miss Trudy, where is Titu…”

 At last, the door opens and Mr Gilmore comes out looking defeated.

 “Aida, please come in.”

I walk into his office wondering what to expect. For one, I haven’t see Titus emerge yet.

It is a large room, with a statuesque mahogany desk in the centre. Behind this stands a matching bookcase, filled with cardboard binders. Today, however, there are three chairs behind the desk. The large leather swivel chair, I know belongs to Mr Gilmore, but today there are two small wooden school chairs. Their occupants stand up, or rather unravel, as I enter the room.

 I have never seen them before, or seen anyone like them. Immediately I know – these are alphas. The realisation just washes over me – there is no-one else, nothing else that they can possibly be.  I have never seen an alpha before. To start with, they are both well over six feet in height and have an unnaturally muscular build. Their heads are shaved bald or maybe they were born that way and their faces are deeply, hauntingly beautiful, with piercing blue eyes. Their clothing is unlike any I have seen, either. They both wear soft black jackets with the torso made of fine wool material. The sleeves contrast in soft black leather. Below are black wool trousers, tucked into black leather boots.  Across the waist is a wide black leather belt.

   “Where’s Titus?” I ask immediately, looking around the room.

 “ Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Alistair Van Clef and this is my colleague, Mr Devon Cantor. We are from the New City. Do not worry about your colleague, Titus. We are here to discuss your case and not his.” They smile deeply and impersonally and encourage me to sit down.

“ Are you army?” I blurt out.

“Goodness, no! What an idea. We are educators. We are from the department of education.