Escapade » z.m

20. Stuart Saves My Sorry Ass

By the time he reached the University, it was already half past eight.

He waited the gates to miraculously open, but of course, they didn't.

He sighed, praying for another miracle and got down from the car.

The shifts for the watch had been changed, and the two watchmen by the gates were staring at him already when he walked towards them. Their gazes were accusing, like he had murdered someone.

He licked his lips nervously, and stood before them.

"And who would you be?" Asked one of them. He had a moustache, and a beard that didn't go with it.

"I'm a student here..." replied Zayn.

"Hosteller?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"You're late." He stated.

"I know."

"Then no entry."

Zayn shot the other watchman a glance, his face was clear off every beard, and it looked like he had been failing to grow any for many years.

His features weren't as taut, nor was his gaze hard, maybe he was the soft hearted one whom Zayn could appeal to.

That's how things worked, right? One was grumpy, other one perky?

"It was the traffic." He tried appealing to him then. "I'm so sorry. This is the first and the last time." He pleaded to the one who hadn't spoken until now.

The man glared at Zayn, surveyed him head to toe, slowly, without a hint of hesitation.

"Show me your ID." He muttered.

"Oh yeah, wait." said Zayn. "It's in the car." He added.

He had kept his book and ID in the backseat when he had left with Gemma and retrieved it quickly.

"Here." He handed it to him.

"I'll give it to the Headmaster, then." said the supposed soft hearted one, after he was done studying it. "He'll decide what degree of detention you might serve."

Zayn's face faltered. "What—no! Please, this is the first and the last time, I promise!"

"Ravenford and traffic? Not likely." He shook his head at his excuse. "Get your facts brushed, kid."

Zayn bit his lip, running his hands through his hair and looked around nervously.

First day of college and detention? No way. That was a massive offense to his nerdiness.

"Please, this is—"

"First and the last time, yes." said the one with the moustache. "We keep hearing that. Our point is, why should there be a first time at all, right? You understand me, don't you?"

"This is going to the Headmaster either way, we let you in or not." His lips lifted in half sneer. "Which hostel do you live in? Mistle Thrush? Reaper Hill? Lady Midnight? Oh, apologies, that is the girls' hostel, I'm sorry. You don't strike me as a feminine figure, that was a slip of tongue."

Zayn could tell he was enjoying this. Hell with the presumptions. Both were horrid and inconvincible. "I'm in Asheville."

"You are?" His face lightened up, the way a child's face blossoms when he plans for more misery. "That's a problem then, isn't it? The two watchmen who stand guard at night, they might not be as vigilant as we are, but they surely don't let people in without an ID, do they, Harvey?"