Year 23 of the Addergoole School; 6 years after the beginning of the apocalypse
“Kallan, please stop by my office. I want to discuss matters with you.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Maybe later.” Kallan kept walking, a very firm hand on her companion’s bicep.
Jeriel, in turn, walked along with her but aimed an uncertain look Kallan’s way. “I thought you said we were supposed to listen to the professors. And, uh. The Director.” Jeriel stole a peek back at the disproving woman. Kallan picked up her speed.
“I said you ought to. I did not, you’ll note, say anything at all about me.”
“But you’re a student here. Wait, you said Eighteenth Cohort, didn’t you?” Jeriel skip-jogged a few steps in an attempt to keep up with Kallan’s ever-increasing stride.
“You weren’t supposed to be paying attention to that part.”
“What, I was just supposed to listen to the part where you gave me like, an entire manual on how to survive in this school and then totally ignore the parts on how you knew all of it and like, why everyone, even the upperclassmen, are both a little scared of you and, uh.” Jeriel’s mouth snapped shut.
Kallan chuckled dryly. “…and they think I’m a little bit dumb, because nobody fails Literature and certainly not twice. Even if you’re not sleeping with Mike.”
“Mhrm Mmmm-nnn MMM mmh.” Jeriel’s answer came through tight-closed lips.
“It’s fine.” Kallan slowed pace to make it down the stairs without breaking Jeriel’s neck – or her own. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it all. And you’ve taken a couple weeks of Mike’s class. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep failing out of it?”
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