The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 3: School's Out

"Oh God," Charlotte whimpered, ruffling through her backpack frantically. "It's not here! Oh God what'd I do with it?"

Her friend Brandon leaned up against the stucco wall behind him, waiting for the previous class to let out. "Where do you last remember having it?" he asked, sipping his latte, paying more attention to a pack of athletic guys standing near the door to the next classroom than his friend's impending mental breakdown.

"I printed it out and stapled it, and then I set it on the table downstairs while I made breakfast and..." Her eyes got wide as she pictured the place on the table where it was still sitting, "And it never ended up in my backpack. Why am I such a spaz?"

She chewed on her thumb as anxiety rose in her throat, making it hard to breathe. A nervous glance at the time on her watch told her that class would start in fifteen minutes: nowhere near enough time to drive back home to get it.

"Do you think if I explained what happened, he'd let me hurry home to get it and come back?"

Brandon hesitated, a grimace on his face. "Were you listening to the same deadline lecture I sat through last week? Lord Hoffman made it pretty clear he expected the oral history assignments at the beginning of the class period."

Charlotte winced, knowing it had been a long shot to hope that the professor all the history majors had nicknamed "Lord Hoffman" for his demanding and unmerciful demeanor would deign to make an exception.

She groaned, "I'm going to flunk this class. And I won't be able to graduate because I'll have to retake it in the fall, and I'll have to postpone the job search..." she trailed off, her chest constricting as she felt the onset of a panic attack approaching.

Before she could fall too far down the rabbit hole, she heard Brandon breathe beside her, "Dear God who is that beautiful creature?"

Charlotte looked up, glad for the distraction from her impending doom, to find with surprise that the man her friend was ogling was her roommate. "Leroy?" she asked, puzzled as it was only nine in the morning and Leroy out of bed before noon was a rare sight, "What are you doing here?"

"I saw this on the table when I got up. I thought you might need it." In his outstretched hand, he held her oral history project.

Relief flooded through her and her eyes started to tear up in gratitude. Without thinking about it, she threw her arms around Leroy's neck and pulled herself against him. "Oh, bless you, Leroy. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He seemed a little taken aback when she pulled away and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. His face flushed as color rushed to his cheeks. "No worries," he said with an embarrassed glance at Brandon.

"You must have sensedthat I needed my report with your twin's picture in it. Is that what people mean when they talk about telepathy?"

Looking more like himself, he rolled his eyes. "That guy is not my twin."

"Well in any case, I owe you one," she said as he took a step back.

"Good—I'll cash it in now to get you to stop talking about this Tank guy." As he disappeared into the crowd he called, "Have a good final."

Brandon elbowed her once Leroy was gone. "Was that the roommate you keep hiding from me?"

"You make it sound like a conspiracy or something."

"Now I'm convinced that it is," he said as the previous class streamed out and they were able to take their usual seats in the back. "No wonder you never want to study at your place—I wouldn't want to risk sharing him either."