Chapter 16
The next night, the school was cluttered. What can I say? It seemed to be a pretty big night. According to whit, it was the championships or something. I dunno. All I knew was that everyone was distracted, and that was good enough for me.
Whitney came outside to meet me, I was playing it safe.
"Morph into that guy." She said. "I can't have you being noticed." I agreed. It would be pretty bad. I morphed underneath the clothing. I was just a bit taller and a bit bulkier, but that was alright, the clothes were baggy.
A few minutes later, I was ready. She directed me into the front doors of the school. "Okay, my mom is a coach, so you need to be inconspicuous, got it?" I nodded my head. "Good, we need to go around the gym and into the basement."
We walked past the gym and Whitney had to stop. "Be right back." She said. I saw her go into the gym. Right into about three hundred people. All those people. I decided to stay behind the wall, maybe it would provide some cover.
A few minutes later, Whitney came back. "Where have you been?" I asked.
She stared at me blankly. "I needed to get the keys. You think they would let it open at any time?"
"Well, um, I guess not." I stuttered. "How did you get them?"
Whitney shrugged, "Told her that I had forgot my stuff in a class and needed the keys. Simple as that." She showed them to me and we went on our way.
When we got to the door, Whitney said to me, "okay, this is the basement. Not really a basement, but good for all the facilities that the school doesn't talk about. Like the licensing and the shooting range." She told me.
My eyes lit up. "A shooting range?" I inquired. "This school has a shooting range? Lucky bastards."
"Not really, it had to be shut down due to bad ventilation or something. It hasn't been used in years. Still, there are probably some guns down here, maybe even some bullets." I smiled.
We walked to the basement and through a short hall. At the end, the door had a plate the simply spelled 'license'. We went in.
"Alright, just give me a minute with this machine. It may take a while, and I need to get some info." Whitney told me. I sat down on the stool.
"So, when were you born?" She asked as she turned on the computer.
"Real or fake?" I asked.
"Fake." She replied.
"February 16, 1986, that makes me seventeen years old." I told her.
She sat at the computer while it booted up. "Good. What about your sex?"
I glared at her.
"Okay, so I can't joke?" She asked as she threw her hands up.
"No, you can't joke." I clarified, "we see you as a serious person. You can't joke."
"Hmph, fine." She looked down and began to type on the computer. "Hair colour? Eye colour, ect?" She asked.
"Umm, blonde, blue. What else?"
So I told her my height, weight, and country of origin. I don't know why. But after a lengthy interrogation, she sat me up facing the camera. I smiled and said, "Cheese!"
"No, you can't do that." She told me. "I think you gotta be serious you can't smile or laugh or anything. This is legal tender. Can't be messed up, damn government."
"Oh, sorry." I said as I straightened out and out a dull look on my face. A second later, the light flashed and I heard a whirring sound.
"That's the machine processing the photo. It will take a minute. Then it will be sent to the computer and from there I can place the information onto the card so you we can print it. Then we laminate it."
"Okay, I think I get it." I said. "What about a social insurance number."
"That will take a few hours. But I can find a way to make it work" She went over to the computer and began to print out the license. She had to put thick paper into the printer. When that was done, she cut it out and put into a laminating machine. A few minutes later, I had a license cool.
"Thank god you know how to do this, because I don't." I told her.
Once she was done with the laminating and such, we went back upstairs.
The next night, the school was cluttered. What can I say? It seemed to be a pretty big night. According to whit, it was the championships or something. I dunno. All I knew was that everyone was distracted, and that was good enough for me.
Whitney came outside to meet me, I was playing it safe.
"Morph into that guy." She said. "I can't have you being noticed." I agreed. It would be pretty bad. I morphed underneath the clothing. I was just a bit taller and a bit bulkier, but that was alright, the clothes were baggy.
A few minutes later, I was ready. She directed me into the front doors of the school. "Okay, my mom is a coach, so you need to be inconspicuous, got it?" I nodded my head. "Good, we need to go around the gym and into the basement."
We walked past the gym and Whitney had to stop. "Be right back." She said. I saw her go into the gym. Right into about three hundred people. All those people. I decided to stay behind the wall, maybe it would provide some cover.
A few minutes later, Whitney came back. "Where have you been?" I asked.
She stared at me blankly. "I needed to get the keys. You think they would let it open at any time?"
"Well, um, I guess not." I stuttered. "How did you get them?"
Whitney shrugged, "Told her that I had forgot my stuff in a class and needed the keys. Simple as that." She showed them to me and we went on our way.
When we got to the door, Whitney said to me, "okay, this is the basement. Not really a basement, but good for all the facilities that the school doesn't talk about. Like the licensing and the shooting range." She told me.
My eyes lit up. "A shooting range?" I inquired. "This school has a shooting range? Lucky bastards."
"Not really, it had to be shut down due to bad ventilation or something. It hasn't been used in years. Still, there are probably some guns down here, maybe even some bullets." I smiled.
We walked to the basement and through a short hall. At the end, the door had a plate the simply spelled 'license'. We went in.
"Alright, just give me a minute with this machine. It may take a while, and I need to get some info." Whitney told me. I sat down on the stool.
"So, when were you born?" She asked as she turned on the computer.
"Real or fake?" I asked.
"Fake." She replied.
"February 16, 1986, that makes me seventeen years old." I told her.
She sat at the computer while it booted up. "Good. What about your sex?"
I glared at her.
"Okay, so I can't joke?" She asked as she threw her hands up.
"No, you can't joke." I clarified, "we see you as a serious person. You can't joke."
"Hmph, fine." She looked down and began to type on the computer. "Hair colour? Eye colour, ect?" She asked.
"Umm, blonde, blue. What else?"
So I told her my height, weight, and country of origin. I don't know why. But after a lengthy interrogation, she sat me up facing the camera. I smiled and said, "Cheese!"
"No, you can't do that." She told me. "I think you gotta be serious you can't smile or laugh or anything. This is legal tender. Can't be messed up, damn government."
"Oh, sorry." I said as I straightened out and out a dull look on my face. A second later, the light flashed and I heard a whirring sound.
"That's the machine processing the photo. It will take a minute. Then it will be sent to the computer and from there I can place the information onto the card so you we can print it. Then we laminate it."
"Okay, I think I get it." I said. "What about a social insurance number."
"That will take a few hours. But I can find a way to make it work" She went over to the computer and began to print out the license. She had to put thick paper into the printer. When that was done, she cut it out and put into a laminating machine. A few minutes later, I had a license cool.
"Thank god you know how to do this, because I don't." I told her.
Once she was done with the laminating and such, we went back upstairs.