Dismissed ⤯ Tom Holland

8 | The Note

Y/N

_

The rest of the school day went by as slow as possible. I wasn't paying attention to any of the content, I was paying attention to the people. I spotted a couple suspicious looking people, but none of them seemed like they had the guts to rob a top-security, state of the art, government embassy.

But one person was on my mind, and that was Claire Beckham.

After watching her attempt to woo Tom on the field, I noticed she was wearing an awful lot of jewelry. I mean, for a private college that had a strict dress code for excessive accessories, she sure wore a ton of it.

"Can you turn the light off?"

It was almost midnight again, and I got so lost in my investigative thought, I hadn't realized to turn my bedside lamp off. Jamie was tucked into her sheets, her tired eyes shining dimly in a dark room.

"Oh, yeah," I said, grabbing the switch, "sorry."

"Why are you up so late?"

"Can't sleep," I said, now staring at a pitch black void

She let out a disgruntled groan, before disappearing back into her blankets. I didn't lie, I literally could not sleep, because I had some more sneaking out to do. She didn't need to know that, of course. A few minutes later, the dorm room was filled with her snoring, and I decided to make my second escape then.

Sliding silently across the floors, I rolled my way down the hallway, down the stairs, and back to the abandoned janitor's closet. Everything was exactly as I had left it, the blackboard perfectly in place. Grabbing the chalk, I started to write down the new information I had.

CLAIRE BECKHAM

Top Suspect

Yes, I understand that I've never actually met the girl, but something was up with her. Wouldn't a girl obsessed with jewelry want to get her hands on the Larmes de Claude? It seemed incredibly likely, considering how she was also very possessive of things.

Like Tom, for example.

Setting down the chalk on the easel, I started to develop a game plan. I couldn't arrest her without factual proof, so I'd need to see if she really was the real deal. It was always a possibility to sneak into her dorm room when she was in class, but then I'd probably be caught by the Matron making her daily rounds.

Switching on my watch log, I held it up to my mouth and began to speak.

"Mission report, Eleven Fourty-two pm," I whispered, "first serious suspect. Claire Beckham, Senior, loves accessorizing. I am planning on making a leap for evidence tomorrow afternoon, during lunch."

I racked my brain for anything else I could record. Unfortunately, I was left dry with information. I had nothing, which was completely contradictory to my statement back at HQ. how could I be out of here quickly, when nothing other than an ex-girlfriend with a necklace-obsession as my only lead?

"Signing off," I sighed, "Agent 47."

Switching the mic off, the sound of my foot tapping rang softly around me.

Except I wasn't tapping my foot.

Quickly spinning around, I put my fists up in a reflex habit. The janitor closet was empty, with the exception of me, so I paused to see where the sound was coming from. The creak of the old, wooden floors echoed out from behind the door, as someone slowly crept past.

At this point, it could be anybody. The matron, the headmaster, or a sleepwalking student. I waited till they trailed away from the door, before slowly unlocking the door and pressing it open.

The school was deadly quiet, which was still unsettling. I could see shadows moving in the darkness, but it was hard to decipher if they were alive or not. Pressing my back against the wall, I closed the door behind me and slid back towards the stairs.

As much as I wanted to see who it was, it was too dangerous. If it wasn't the thief, I could end up in serious trouble with authority, and I wouldn't be able to investigate from suspension. I had learned to avoid the feeling of fear, but it didn't stop my heart from pounding.

Quickly skipping up the stairs, I ran to my dorm room, careful not to step on the wrong floorboards. Slipping back into the room, I let out a sigh of relief when I realized Jamie was still asleep.

I was about to return to my bed, when the sound of paper scraping against the ground shocked me, and I froze. My foot had accidentally stepped on a piece of paper, and I picked it up in interest.

It looked like it had been ripped out of a notebook, messy chicken scratch letters written on the front.

Except the words weren't good at all.

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. STAY AWAY FROM THIS SCHOOL.