The Tricked Shadows
Prelude
Earth. Present Day.
The sea of almost emotionless faces clouded the anxiety and impatience on the girl's face- a typical science class for her. Every now and then her eyes would find the digital clock on the computer screen, as if ready to pounce the moment it was 12:50. If not, they glanced at the empty seat next to her.
12:48...
1249...
DINGINGINGING!
The class immediately evacuated- slowly, at first, but once outside the classroom- and away from the teacher's sight- they sprinted along. Most ventured to the playgrounds outside, for the humid summer day had already taken its toll. But not her...
The girl walked hastily to the refectory, a small smile composing on her once-worried face at the sight of her two best friends- Rani and Clyde. They were both in their last year at the school, and were at least 4 years younger. Apart from them, only a handful of others decided to eat in the canteen. And none of them were listening.
"Now there's four people missing," she said, glaring at the duo, as if waiting for a response. "Aren't we at least a little bit interested," now taunting them slightly, while retaining the urgency in her voice.
The older girl looked up, at the brink of being fed up with the constant wining from the seat across her. "Sky," she started, "we've told you before, we would if we could, but we can't investigate. And you know why."
Sky didn't like being treated like a kid like Rani just had, but she hated it when she was reminded of that fact when she didn't have to be.
That day...
"But we don't need the fancy alien tech-"
"Shh!" Clyde intervened. "There are other people in here who don't know 'bout us."
"Yeah, and none of them are listening." she replied, with the stereotypical teenage attitude clear in her voice. "Back to what I was saying, maybe we can just find a way into the school at night-"
"NO!" they both shouted, almost startling Sky.
"First of all, we can't without Sarah Jane," Rani stated, "and secondly, THAT is illegal!"
"Fine. I'll just ask someone else." Sky moaned.
Above them, high in his office, the new head teacher stared at his pupils, like the vulture staring at those he will soon consume. He looked to be in his late-40s with small, mean eyes and light, curled hair that formed a circular bold spot around his head. The formal suit he wore made him look slightly out-of-place, slightly uncomfortable with his surroundings.
Though not as uncomfortable as the man opposite him- his purplish tweed coat, his strikingly weird, black hair, his dicky-bow tie... The headless chicken had found its way to the vulture's nest. Nevertheless, his friendly face was enough for the head teacher to accept him into the school, and his office.
In his hand was, what he could see at least, a letter from The Times explaining that the bow-tie-clad man was a reporter wanting to find out more about the school. "A reporter?" he asked. "Well, you certainly dress for the occasion, don't you? You can look around if you want, I'll organise one of the staff to show you around."
"Oh no really, you don't have to do that," he replied, "it's more fun when you don't know what's round the corner."
The head teacher was rather taken aback by the sudden giddy, childish response from this grown man. "Well, if you need anything, let one of the staff know, and tell them that Mr Phillips said they have to help you. Sorry, I didn't even catch your name."
"It's Smith. John Smith."