The Silver Six

Part 3

A few long hours later, Allen was nearly done scrubbing the classroom down, the scent of chemicals burning his nose as he wiped down every little desk piece and table. As luck would have it, a few students were making their way in for a lesson, tracking in dirt onto the newly swept floor, and setting down their iced coffee onto the desks to leave water rings. Biting back obscenities, Allen gathered up his supplies and began pushing his yellow cart out to the door when a gray-bearded professor walked into the class, staring him down with hunting eyes. The man suddenly reached a hand out to stop him and glanced up at his class filling the seats.

"Young man, may I ask you your age?" the professor asked loudly, claiming the attention of a few students.

Allen raced to recall the age the doctors had told him.

"Twenty-seven, sir," Allen replied nervously.

An amused smile broke out over the man's face, and he turned to his listening audience.

"Well, there you go folks, don't fail my class and drop out of college, or look where you'll end up! You all don't want to be a janitor at that age do you?" he asked with a chuckle.

A rolling wave of laughter came from the students, who looked down at Allen in his gray uniform with amusement and disdain. A few eyed him with pity, and those who were not paying attention looked up in confusion before catching sight of him and realizing what was going on. Clenching his fists, Allen fought back the red creeping into his vision as he began to reply.

"I'll have you know, Professor," Allen started, his voice hard. "I was drafted, I never had a chance to go to college."

At this, the laughter died down and the professor shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"My apologies," the man said, pursing his lips. "That was careless of me."

"Of course it was," Allen muttered as he shoved his cart out into the hall.

What a way to make a bad day worse...

He angrily headed down the hall towards the new building where his next assignment waited, dreading any interaction with any other people. Head ducked, he steered clear of everyone he saw in the halls. Perhaps if they saw his white hair they might think he was just an old man and wouldn't think anything of him. Fortunately, the new building was nearly deserted except for a few maintenance workers and Allen was able to quickly finish cleaning the bathrooms in less than three hours.

Once that was done, he dragged his aching feet across campus to begin work on the Gold Hall. Upon entry, Allen nearly turned and walked back to his car. Teal paint spread across the floors in drying puddles and splatters of red and orange-spotted across it. Sticky lines showed where multiple canvases must have laid, and a few rings from paint buckets and cups cut through the paint.

"What. The. Hell." he gasped aloud. "Are you kidding me?"

Stepping towards the mess, Allen bent and set a finger in the paint, making a face as bits of teal came off onto his finger. At least it wasn't completely dry. Pressing his palm to his forehead, he straightened and surveyed the mess. It would take hours of overtime, but he had to get it done today if he wanted to keep his job. Already he was on the line with Mary, who kept yelling at him for coming in late and forgetting his equipment or assignments, despite them being on a list.

Turning back towards his cart, he dug through his supplies until he found a scraper that he could use on the tile floor. Grabbing a clean bucket of soapy water, he poured it lightly across the floor and sprayed a chemical overtop. Pulling on gloves and a mask, he lowered himself to his knees and began scraping at the drying paint until his hands were sore and his shoulders ached. Chips of paint stuck to his uniform and swirled in the cold water, which he began mopping up. Soon the last few patches of paint were disappearing under the grey strands of the mop and he was able to begin heading back to the department, his eyes red and his hands cramped.

Wordlessly, he went through the motions of cleaning and putting away most of the equipment, his only thoughts on getting food and resting. Once he had completed that last arduous task, he made his way back to the front desk, where he swiped his ID, not even noticing that Miss Arnold had already left. With a heavy sigh, he made his way back to his car, wishing that there was some way to get the near-permanent smell of chemicals out of his nose.

Pulling out of the parking lot, he headed down the road back towards Benny's, his stomach growling at the thought of a warm sandwich and cup of coffee. Absentmindedly, he flicked his headlights on, noting the setting sun and thanking everything he could think of for the fact that it was Friday. Soon enough he found himself pulling into the parking lot of Benny's, noting the few cars that were still there. Unbuttoning his gray over-shirt, he traded it for his denim jacket, hoping that the wardrobe change would pull away from the fact that he was a janitor. If anything, people would be more weirded out by his strange taste in fashion.

After ensuring that his phone was snug in his pocket, he left his car, not bothering to lock it behind him as he walked through the glass door. Luckily none of the other customers sat in his usual place, so he made his way there and plunked down at the counter.

"There you are, Allen!" Cassie greeted cheerfully. "I thought you wouldn't come tonight."

"Are you kidding me?" Allen chuckled tiredly. "I can't cook for shit, and I don't want to starve."

Cassie laughed and looked him over.

"Long day?"

"Yeah, but at least Mary didn't yell at me today."

"Oh, that's good!"
"She did, however, have her assistant give me this list..." he said, setting the paper down on the counter. "Said it all needed to be done today."

Cassie leaned forward and picked up the now smudged list, her eyebrows darting up as she looked over it.

"You mean you had to do all this by yourself?"
"Yep. Not to mention the foyer in Gold Hall was covered in paint."

"Jesus Al," she breathed, handing the list back. "How many espressos do you want?"

"Enough to get me home, then I'm crashing. Food would be nice too," he replied, fishing out a few spare dollars out of his pocket. "I think I forgot to pay this morning."

"Oh no, you did," Cassie assured him quickly, her smile bright.

"If you say so," he said, setting down the payment.

Picking up the money and stuffing it into the register, Cassie turned towards the small kitchenette only to crash into someone.

"Oh, sorry!" a baritone voice exclaimed. "I wasn't paying attention."