Protecting the Royal Idiot

Protecting the Royal Idiot - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I was panting by the time I stumbled through the giant wooden doors. Stupid suitcases... Why are you so heavy?! I put my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath.

I straightened myself and looked around. The main room I was in was small, but it looked far from jail. The floors were tiled and nicely polished. There were elegant windows lighting the room. There were also some dim lights on the ceiling, that were turned off since it was so bright outside. Everything the British do is classy, I guess. I was still standing in the same spot since I came in, so I dropped my luggages and moved around the room.

The desk that was probably meant for a receptionist was empty. Well whoever it is, they're doing a great job. Note the heavy sarcasm.

I walked over to the desk and looked down at it. I examined the papers scattered around. They didn't mean much to me; they weren't even mine. I didn't even bother being nosy and reading them since they probably won't affect me later. My eyes analyzed the desk, taking in every detail. Then they landed on a small bell, the ones you see on teachers' desks or in fast food restaurants. My hand crept to the bell. I smacked the little knob on top, and the bell released a high pitched ding. I winced.

"Oh, hello," a nice-looking woman said, entering the room. I should really get used to the accents. "How may I help you?" She had a warm smile on, and for a second I wondered if Ryan dropped me off at the wrong place. I checked the plaque on the wall. Sure enough, it was some sort of merit award for Hughes.

"Ermm... Hi. My parents signed me up here..." I said, my voice trailing off uncertainly. The receptionist's eyebrows shot up. I grimaced.

"Oh, okay," her eyebrows went back to their normal level and her smile returned, "the barracks are around the back. Just make sure to watch out." Now I raised an eyebrow. Watch out? "For what?" I asked curiously. The receptionist shrugged.

"Barbed wire, ditches, Jeeps... the usual," she said, as if it were nothing. I sucked in a breath and forced a smile. "Thanks," I said quietly. I spun on my heel and picked up my stuff. I walked back out the double doors and followed a trail that probably led to the barracks. I looked down at my sneakers, which were getting dirtier with each step I took. Sheesh, I just bought these last week.

I finally saw the barracks coming into sight, after miles of training grounds, or whatever they call them. All I know is that this property is freakin' big. I started walking a bit faster to get there, which included crossing a dirt road. Watch out for Jeeps, I reminded myself. I looked left, right, left. Just like my parents taught me. There wasn't a single Jeep in sight, so I gladly crossed the road. I heard a loud grumbling all of a sudden. I stopped and stared down the road.

My mouth hung open, and I was paralyzed for a few seconds. No, it wasn't a Jeep. It was a freakin' Humvee, with machine guns and everything. I gasped and started trying to run across. The thing is, all my luggages slowed me down, which probably made me look like a retard, tripping and scrambling to get across the road.

"Who the bloody hell is that?!" someone hollered. I just barely heard them over the roar of the Humvee. It was about fifteen feet away now, so I dropped all my crap and ran across. Better my suitcases than me.

The Humvee drove right over my stuff, flattening it. I half-expected the thing to keep driving, but it stopped a few feet after crushing my luggages. I gawked down at my suitcases, which now looked like pancakes. My mouth was slightly open in shock.

"Isn't that just ace," a girl said sarcastically, looking down at the flat mess. She smacked some guy's shoulder. "Not my fault, you arse," the guy muttered. That earned him another smack on the back of the head. Now there are British terms I have to learn? Geez. Unless it's only these two that use this much British slang.

"You can't fix it, can you," I said flatly. The girl let out a little laugh. I shot a look at her, and she chcukled at me. "What's a beastly American doing here?" she laughed. I scoffed. As much as I wanted to slap her, I didn't. The guy rolled his eyes. I couldn't tell whether it was meant for me or the rude girl.

"You've gone barmy if you think this can be fixed," the guy said. I guess that means the eye-roll was meant for me. "As for you," he turned to his partner, "belt up and be nice." The girl rolled her eyes and stopped laughing. I smirked at that.

"Blimey," I said, doing my best British accent, "I didn't know Brits were racist. I should box your ears for that." The girl frowned at me, and the guy chuckled. The girl walked over to me and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Well shoot," the girl retorted in a hillbilly accent, "I never thought y'all Americans could even understand Brits!" I laughed at her lame comeback. Even the guy stifled a smile.

"If you don't mind, I need to go to the barracks," I said. Her comeback wasn't even worth another comeback. She just turned to the guy and said, "When you're done with this cheeky monkey, I'll be in the Humvee." She gave me one last glare and walked back to the giant truck thing. The guy turned to me.

"She's such a load of rubbish. Just ignore her... forever," he said with a slight smile. I nodded. He lifted his hand and held it out. "Name's Charlie." I shook his hand. "Jenna." He let go of my hand and pointed to the barracks. "The barracks are over there," he said. I nodded again.

"Didn't know that," I said sarcastically. I didn't even bother looking at the damage done on my suitcases. I just spun on my heel and started jogging toward the barracks.

This won't be fun.