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•~|~•
It's now Wednesday. The day really has no significance whatsoever, but I felt like I should at least tell you the day of the week just incase you really wanted to know.
So it's Wednesday, two days after Joseph Solomon's niece popped up like an unexpected zit. The annoying one. The one right on the tip of your nose that seems to only get bigger as the days go on. Yeah, this girl is like that. Sudden, unexpected, and very annoying. (And by the way, just to make things clear, I have never ever in my eighteen years on this earth have a first hand experience of a zit like that. Porter did during his early puberty stages. I called him Rudolph all through out December just because of it. Which, in a way, was fitting and mind-blowingly clever. Port didn't think so.)
It's not like the girl is annoying on purpose. I guess I have to defend her somewhat since she hasn't done anything worthy for my dislike of her. So naturally, I waited for a while to find something about her that irritates me. You know, something that really shoots a nerve that makes my sanity hit the gas and shoot up a wall. Which is nothing. And that's what annoys me. Think what you may, I don't really care, but to make it clear to all of you I would like to point out the very important fact that it is not the same thing. Really, it isn't. When annoyed, it's just you having that moment where you don't want to deal with that certain but you don't hate them or wish death upon them. Irritating is like that kid you despise so much. The one who constantly breaths down your neck, assuming you're his best friend or something, not realizing you actually want to kill him every time he opens his mouth to say 'hi'.
"Hi, Zach-Attack." This. This is what I mean when I say irritating. And it's not just because of the fact that Floyd decided to even speak to me for no reason. It's more because of the fact that where he wanted to bother me was in a place that no male should be bothered.
I was taking a piss in a urinal. And my bladder was full to the max so I knew it was going to take at least ten seconds for me to actually be done. Ten seconds is quite long enough for the boy with shitting problems to start up a conversation. (In the bathroom nonetheless)
"Have you seen Sergeant Solomon's niece? She's a hot piece of meat that one. Like, damn what I would do to get inside her pants." He couldn't even bang a girl if he tried. I didn't even have to look to know the scrawny kid as a dick the size of a peanut. Even so, the size of his manhood and his want to have sex with some chick is never something I want to think about. Especially while peeing in a urinal.
I didn't answer him. He only took that as invitation to speak once again.
"You know, Bobby and Dean got pretty beat up. Those losers. Sergeant Moore made the two due cardio for three hours straight with no stop. In the mud. They're still throwing up. I heard they tried sneaking out. Sergeant Moore saw the evidence lying on their floor. Serves them right. They're dimwits that really need to learn a lesson or two. Dean almost broke my arm. Did you know that?" I didn't even give him a glance as I zipped up my pants and walked out the door.
Man, he smells.
I made my way down to Math class. The halls deserted just like last night, except the lights were on and there were no signs of tiny girl waiting to get mauled by horny bears.
Two hours everyday, we get to be like normal teenagers. Learn shit we don't care about, sleep during those annoying History documentaries, and take tests so the state can mock your behind your back if you get lower than an eighty-five. It's our small dose of the real world. We take what we can get. The more reality, the more mentally stable.
Zach-Attack. I scoffed in my head. Who even says that kind of stuff anymore? Are you five?
Ten seconds into my inner monologue as to why seventeen year old dudes should really not call other guys names such as Zach-Attack, I heard a crash down the teacher's corridor followed by a small squeal.
A female squeal. And there's only one female that currently exists within a two mile radius of this place. Me, being the curious man that I am, decided to ditch another lesson on dissecting circles and find out what that crash was.
Now, before I go any further, I took my liberty of writing this to create a list for any of you who have a pretty good change of getting yourself thrown into a school such as mine:
WHAT NOT TO BRING TO A DETENTION CENTER-
(AKA BOOT CAMP BUT NOT REALLY):
(A List By Zach Goode)
• Family. This may seem obvious to most, but
logic and common sense can and will deceive
many. If you decide to drag your two years old barely
even thirty pounds brother because you're too scared to
walk in- then prepare to be ridiculed for the rest of your
days here (and questioned by basically everyone as to why
you're even here in the first place. Just ask Elliot Peeters).
• Pets. (Really. Please refrain from bringing your
goldfish to any detention center. I know you may feel like
this is it. This is when Goldie XLV will be your first ever
goldfish that will actually make it through the week. But
really, you're only fooling (and making a fool of) yourself).
• Expensive personal items – (i.e. laptop, camera, jewelry, etc.)
• Weapons of any type, including pocketknives (All types. Not just
the fancy ones with all the extra goodies on it)
• Playing cards/dice/dominoes (Do you really think
guys like us will want to sit down at an old table and
play Crazy Eights or Solitaire? Didn't think so)
I turned right, my steps long and evenly paced. There was only one door open, on the left of the long gray carpeted hallway, so I knew it was the source as to which the noise came from. That, and a little die suddenly rolled out of the room along with a hamster that was tangled in a blood red bra.
Oh, this outta be good.
"No, Henry, come back!" The hamster didn't listen. Instead, he continued to run towards me, the bra getting looser and looser the more he ran. I watched the little guy, Henry, scurry across the thin carpet with his stubby little legs dying to get away from this strange new place. When he ran past my foot, I crouched down to pick him up (along with the bra), standing back to my original position only to be face to face with the strange, annoyingly non-irritating girl I just so happened to come face to face with just last night.
"I believe these belong to you," I held up the little guy in my right hand, twirling the bra with the other. A smirk grew on my face as I watched the girl's face turn from a shocked pale to an embarrassed red. She looked from me to the bra to the hamster, doing this for a good ten seconds before awkwardly taking the to things from my hands with a quiet "thank you". She tried to close the door on me, leaving the poor stranded die out in the middle of the hallway, but I wasn't going to let her go that easily. I was already there, so it was there where I actually take my curiosity and form them into verbal questions.
"So what's your name?" I asked as I rudely made my way into her room- that is, uninvited an obviously unwanted; trespassing, if you will. I looked around her room, examining everything and anything so I could make a decent hypothesis about her.
One bed. I told myself. One bed and a dresser.
The room was designed exactly like mine, identical except that it seemed so much larger with one dresser and bed unlike mine that had three musty old cots and small dressers that could barely even fit two pairs of socks. On her bed, there were articles of clothing folded neatly into sorted piles, a hamster ball for Henry to exercise with, and a notebook with a weird symbol on it. A night stand laid on the ground, items of random junk like Yazzie and ear buds piled around it which gave me a pretty good indication that this is what made that crashing sound. My eyes gazed back to the notebook laying peacefully on her bed. I read the three words that sat in the middle of this shield looking picture (I'm assumed it was some family or school cress), stumbling over the first word.
"The Guggenheim Academy?" Academy. Academy's are for bad kids too right? Just not as... 'strictly' run as this place? Maybe she was like me, only not male. Maybe she did some stupid stuff to and the Academy couldn't handle her rebellious streaks so they sent her here, with her uncle.
"Gallagher," She corrected, placing her hamster in a white cage full of substrate, bedding, scattered food, toys and other junk the tiny animal seems to need. "The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. My school. Well, was." I nodded my head and looked around her room once more, ignoring her obvious nervous fidgeting. I also failed to mention how her nervous fidgeting reminded me of a Chihuahua- or hamster in away. Maybe that's because I had that small little animal on my mind.
Henry. Of all the things she could name it, and she chose 'Henry'.
"You do know this isn't some Happy Sunny Day camp, right?" I was referring to her many board games, cheesy romance novels, and family pictures she had scattered around the room on the floor and any standing object. The girl bit her lip and nodded while fiddling with her small hands. I noticed a ring on her right middle finger but wasn't curious enough to ask about it- yet.
"Yes, I know," her blue eyes glanced up at me for a second then found her school notebook to he more interesting. She cleared her throat and went on. "Well, of course I knew this wasn't some summer camp. But my uncle Joe, he told me to bring stuff to do. Well, he didn't tell me to bring this type of stuff, but my friend Tina, she likes to use her unreliable knowledge to confuse people. She's like the school's human magazine- full of rumors and useless gossip type of information. She told me about these types of schools and said- well, anyways, I listened to her and somehow Henry and everything ended up coming with me." At the end of her very long and very unnecessary explanation, the girl walked out of the room to pick up the lone die. I watched her body bend down, a slight bend to her knees. Her hair crated a curtain that hid her face from the world. I also watched her as when as she walked- I won't deny that. It was small and round and, in Grant words, adorable- but not really. Adorable is what you call a cat that your friend just might have the urge to stalk if you don't make him keep his distance.
"Well, thanks for that verbal essay I guess," She glared, I smirked. "You do know you have to participate in our daily 'lessons', 'I motioned air quotes when I said lesson because really, doing sit-ups is not a lesson. "right? You won't ever have time to take care of your pet or read for that matter." The girl either didn't hear me or didn't care, because she was putting her things away as I spoke and she never once answered me. Not even a grunt to show what I said made it to her ears.
"Uh, girl? Did you hear me?" I snapped my fingers after a very long wait for her to respond to my question. Still, this female species said nothing to indicate we even spoke the same language. "Gallagher Girl?" I used her school's name to maybe grab her attention but was met with silence and only silence. I left after that. Her hamster was staring at me for a very long and uncomfortable amount of time. It was like he was studying me, trying to get into my very soul with its black beady eyes.
It was creepy and nerve-racking. Two feelings I hated to possess. Especially when it came to furry animals half the size of my hand. That brings my ego down a good three bars on a scale of ten.
What's her name? That was my thought while walking to Math. I really wanted to know her name. Don't get any ideas either. I'm a curious guy, and right then, not knowing her name was aggravating.
Two hours later, I sat with Port and the guys at our lunch table. The slop today was green, red, and yellow. I assumed that maybe it was a Bolivian or even Ethiopian that was leading the food preparation today and decided to make a statement about where they came from. What that statement was is a mystery to me. This food did not look appetizing and in no way inviting.
"So I was thinking," Port spoke up after a bite of floppy beans. "Maybe we should get you a cat. That way, we can teach you to love it enough to roam these halls on its own. You know, so you can get over your stalking habit." Nick tried to ignore him, but even Grant would be able to notice the way Nick's clenched hand strangled the fork it was holding if he were actually paying attention to what was going on instead of 'what if this food disappeared right now?'. Nick's knuckles turned white but his face gradually turned a darker shade of red.
Holy shit. I thought to myself, watching him begin to slightly shake in rage. He was about to erupt like some volcano. I've never seen Nick this mad. It was a sight I'd rather not have be directed towards me.
"Uh, Port I think that's enou-"
"But just the cat okay? Joe's niece is at the top of the Stay Away or Else list. The 'or else' being or else Joe will kill you." Grant continued to shovel food in his mouth, Jonas was doing something in his computerized brain, and Port just wore a smug look as he and Nick stared at each other. Port stared, anyway. Nick still looked like he was ready to explode.
"Would you shut the hell up before I fucking beat you?" His voice, the way it was deeper than usual-dark- it sent shivers up my spine. He wasn't even talking to me and I was ready to run for the hills. Port sat on the other side of the long rectangular table right across from Nick who's eyes were as dark as his voice. He looked away, fearful, finally understanding that Nick was getting really, really pissed.
"Take a damn joke would you?" He mumbled. After that, no one spoke. We just ate and breathed.
Then Jonas decided to speak.
"I heard some guards talking," He explained. "They'll all be out in the woods and around town except for one man at each wing. Tonight. Eight guys are still missing." We just stared at him, waiting for his brain to realize that our simple minds don't comprehend whatever he was trying to get at. This only made him roll his eyes, possibly a silent gesture that meant we are all idiots that need to find some miracle worker-or possibly a wizard- to make us not as slow as we were in that moment.
"Well?" Grant urged. The gears in his brain are rusty, old, and some off track. They can't handle this much thinking. They just can't. The Hoover Dam would break before anything in his head begins functioning properly.
Jonas huffed and crossed his arms in defeat.
"Well, what I'm saying is that the guardroom will be empty. Out of use. Unoccupied." He sat up strait and leaned in, his hands on the table waiting for use to lean in as well.
We did. And he looked around our small group, a look of determination in his dark brown eyes that were somewhat hidden behind his black hair and think glasses. His determination already getting us excited.
"Tonight you say?" I asked. Jo smiled with a curt nod. We all nodded at each other with a silent agreement to meet up at our usual time. Grant, however, was still trying to figure out what 'unoccupied' means. This only made me regret ever becoming 'friends' with him. He almost got us busted last weekend. Who's to say he won't get us busted this time? Trying to spy on Solomon's niece nonetheless.
"Grant," Jo slowly spoke as if he were talking to a small child rather than a big muscly delinquent. "we're sneaking in tonight. Meet us at the west wing bathroom tonight at 11:55 and please, for the love of all things pure and bright in the world, don't make any noise or unnecessary comments." Grant said a small 'ooohhh' once he understood what was happening, but Jo stared at him for a while longer to make sure the dummy actually comprehended the situation. Because this is critical. Excruciatingly critical.
"I've got it, pinky swear."
•~|~•
It's exactly 12:05 AM and there's still no sign of Grant. He swore he understood the plan. He pinky swore. And for the past ten minutes, we peed, took a dump, and had time to check out Night Club Dude's phone out. Actually, we didn't. Jonas just about had a panic attack when he realized what I had in my hand. When he realized what Port and I were laughing so hard at. My evidence. My blackmail. He saw, he freaked, and he took. And not just that. Instead of doing his techy magic, the piece of metal was thrown in the toilet and flushed into the sewer system just like Nemo. Except I have a feeling no worrywart fish or cool pelican with a sweet accent were about to save it.
"Hey!" Jonas ignored my protest just like he ignored basically everything else. Port was still laughing at Nick, sounding like a mix between a cow and some dinosaur. I found no humor in this. My toy was gone.
"Phones can be tracked, Idiot." Was all he said.
"She was defiantly all over you man." Port mocked from where he and Nick stood at the sinks. He was doubled over in laughter, Nick just had a scowl on his face and his arms were crossed. "I didn't know you could get so dirty, Bro." Grant took this time to walk into the bathroom, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and yawning.
"Okay, Buds. Let's do this thing." Like a fly rubbing its hands together before wiping its face, Grant created friction with his own and added a tired grin.
Two minutes later, all five of us were in the dark air shaft (I lacked the phone that had a flashlight on it, thanks to Jonas' wonderful plan now known as the Throw and Flush).
"I just don't think this is necessary. If you want to know so much about her then why don't you just ask?"
"You do know this was originally Nick's idea right? I just want to know her name," I looked back at Nick. "So what's your deal? Why do you want to find out useless stuff about her?" I shot a warning glance at Port, silently telling him to shut it before Nick snapped.
"I don't know, because I want to." Nick dumbly replied.
"Because that explained so much." We ignored Jonas and looked at the smelly blueprints again. It was hard to see with the little light that escaped through the slits in the vent covers. And even that light was scarce since everyone was sleeping.
"Where the hell do you keep this, Port?" I brought the paper up to my nose and sniffed then looked to my left where Port was crawling next to me. Puberty did wonders for him, that's for sure. The guy looked way better than that cracky voiced kid four years ago did. His freckles mostly faded and his red hair turned almost dark brown. Even his voice changed drastically- becoming real deep that made his southern drawl move accented. And no more was that scrawny kid that could be easily snapped with two fingers. Over the years of excessive weight lifting, running, and other various exercises, his chicken limbs became defined with muscles- and lots of them.
"Behind the toilet." I wouldn't have been so grossed out by his reply if it wasn't for the fact that I know what happens in the bathroom, and sometimes things end up behind the toilet. And it's not just the moth balls that chewed their way through sections of this thing. Things end up behind the toilets. Floyd things.
"Fuck, why?" My disgusted look must have amused him, because he started quietly laughing. Nick told him to shut up, mumbling something stupid under his breath, and explained to me that the blueprint was really kept under his bed. It didn't really help me, because I'm pretty sure Nick has bugs, but it was better than thinking about what other things could've been on there.
"You're an idiot, Port." Despite my annoyance, I shook my head and grinned. He's an idiot, but probably the best idiot out there. With out him, I would've lost my mind within the first year here.
"Turn right. Left goes to the kitchen." Port and I looked back at Grant who shrugged with a confused look. "What? I get hungry and the kitchen has a secret stash of human food. Like brownies. And cookies."
And you're just now telling us?
A mental note was written in my head to give shit to him later about keeping his knowledge about all things delicious and fattening from us.
The sound of our knees, toes, and hands landing on the aluminum shafts made noise every time they made contact with it. Other than that, we were silent the rest of they way to the computer room where all things electronic were stationed. Jonas looked to be in his prime the moment we all landed foot in the bright room.
Lights were everywhere. Red, blue, orange, yellow. Not to mention the number of wires and computers and video screens. It looked like some secret spy facility. Futuristic even. If I were still a child, I'd waste no time to run to one of the black cushiony rotating chairs and act like I was ready to track down bad guys.
"Okay, ten minutes and then we leave. I'm not taking any chances. Well, no more than I am now." Jonas grumbled and quickly got to work starting with sitting down in a large chair in front of a large computer.
And then he typed.
And typed.
And typed.
The only interesting that happened was random beeping and flashing lights. A spider crawled on Grant's shoulder at one point. Watching him flail his arms and squeal like my Barbie obsessed cousin all the while knocking over a bunch of paper is something I could watch over and over again and never once getting bored of it.
Jonas' reasoning for doing this tonight was because of the simple fact that there would be no guards around. Yet he still have himself a ten minute time limit. Yet twenty minutes later, we were standing around, watching and waiting and, at one point, drooling.
"How long is this going to take?" Nick's clipped tone spoke for everyone. This was taking forever.
"I told you ten minutes ago that I was finished. You know, when you guys were trying to kill the spider that was assassinating Grant." Jonas was uninterested in the whole conversation and it barely even began. Which is typical. Unless you have a vocabulary only old Englishmen use, there's no way Jonas would ever really try and have a conversation with you. He's like that. It's annoying, but then again, I don't think any conversation longer than three sentences from him would do me any good. I'd get two words out of it.
Which is why none of us asked how he did it when we saw he got into the Institute's system along with Joe's email. We just read.
9/01/15, 8:57 AM
Joseph Solomon: Hey, Matt. I'm getting Cam tomorrow right?
Matthew Morgan: No. Today. At three. What time is it over there? 9 AM? Dammit Joe, go get to the airport.
Joseph Solomon: Oh. Sorry.
Well, that was rather disappointing. I thought when I finished reading the email exchange.
"That's it?" I asked. Jo shook his head.
"No, sorry. That was the wrong one. But at least we know her name."
Cam. What kind of a name is that? Do her parents like taking pictures or something?
"This is the one I meant to click on." Jo moved the computer mouse to another link of messages. These were longer, and more serious. I almost felt guilty when I read what I did, but even the others couldn't stop reading them.
8/22/15, 10:33 PM
Matthew Morgan: Joe, we've been caught up in some bad situations down in Haiti. I know this is a late notice, but Rachel can't deal with worrying about Cam if we take her. She's coming down next week.
Joseph Solomon: What the hell are you talking about? Cam wouldn't last a day here. How long are you talking about?
Matthew Morgan: A year at the most. The organization lost everything in the quake. Rache and I need to go back out. Please, Joe. It's just a year. Those children aren't going to save themselves, you know.
Joseph Solomon: Can't Abby take her? She's been around Cam more, and there's a public school ten minutes away from her house. What about her meds, Matt? I can't keep track of all her meds. And one look at the guys here she'll be running back to Virginia faster than a cheetah.
Matthew Morgan: Abby's in Africa for the next three weeks. No, Joe. You need to spend time with your niece. You haven't seen her since it happened. Cam's-
"Hey, guys, guards are coming!" Nick frantically whispered from where he stood at the door.
Shit.
"Fuck. Dammit Jo get off the damn thing." Port jumped up and grabbed onto the hole in the ceiling, pulling himself up with the rest of us following. Jonas logged off the computer, making sure everything looked as how it did when we got there.
"Hurry, Jo!" I whispered. He grabbed two sheets of paper, picked up the cover, and jumped up. Port and I grabbed his arms to pull him into the vent.
We sat above the room, catching our breaths from the sudden rush of fear. No guards came. Not one. But it was the very fear of getting caught that decided for us that we were to never go back in there again. For anything.
"Is this what you feel like when you stalk people, Nick?"
•~|~•
Nick refuses to even so much as look at Porter. It's as if the southern guy doesn't even exist. I, for one, find their whole little fight childish and immature.
"How long do you think this will last?" Grant asked me the during breakfast later that day. All events from early this morning ignored. We couldn't hang onto what happened. It was a pretty scary moment- almost getting caught. If we dwelled on that fear though, someone would have at least semi-caught on. We're a closet-knit group of friends. That's unusual at a place like this. If we were all showing the same anxiety- Bobby and Dean would definitely rat us out.
I stabbed an egg and shrugged my shoulders.
I didn't care about Nick's existent or non-existent stalking record or Ports reading at the moment. I was too occupied thinking of the girls name. Cam. Is that shirt for something or did her parents really like photography sand just thought it was cute? I wasn't even expecting 'Cam'. I was ready to see the name Lilly or Heather biome thing sweet and delicate. But Cam?
As as if hearing my thoughts, 'Cam' stood up from her spot at the staff's table. She took one last bite of her toast that was smothered in grape jelly before she took her tray to the trash. I watched as she walked, tiny steps, left arm gentley swinging back and forth. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail exposing a pair of long chain earrings. They dangled whenever she moved her head and I found myself entranced. Mesmerized by just watching the jewelry move, occasionally brushing the back of her jawline.
"Dude, stop looking at her. People could get the wrong idea and Solomon would freak." I looked back down at my food.
He's right. People would get the wrong idea. And I definitely wouldn't want that.
•~|~•
A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! I'd do shout outs but that takes a lot of time and this chapter was supposed to be posted a few hours ago so I need to get this thing up.
As always, thoughts, concerns, tell them! Ideas you may have might get used if they fit with my plot.
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN FUTURE CHAPTERS. WHETHER IT'S ON CHARACTER'S PERSONALITY, THE WRITING IN GENERAL, OR WHATEVER. ALL IDEAS SO I KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE LOOKING FOR IN THIS STORY.
Chapter length too long or too short?
Did you like that little list ditto thing in there? I decided to throw some of Ally's cute writing in here. But of course, I'm not as good as her. At all...
Please tell me what you didn't like about this chapter so I can fix it. It would mean a lot.
Please review. Please please review. They really do motivate me to write and i love reading what your thoughts are on my books and how you like/don't like them. I hope this chapter was okay.