I had no idea what was taking them so long, so I grabbed the remaining flashlight out of my backpack and flipped it to x-ray mode to spy on the office ladies. Mason was leaving the office while an assistant was talking to a man in another room. The colors didn't bleed through the walls, but when I looked back at my hands, the aura was still there.
I blinked hard again, but the colors stayed in my vision. Please, let this be temporary, I thought. I beg you! Just make it go away!
My writer did not respond. I guess this was what Nathan meant by not being able to run away from his world.
The man in the other room walked in, leaving the door open. I quickly shoved the flashlight back in my backpack before he could see it.
I looked up and gasped. I blinked a few times, trying to hide my shock, and then looked at my own feet. They still shimmered cyan.
Which meant this man was soulless.
But that was okay, right? Because Nathan wasn't any less good of a friend than anyone else. Just because this man was soulless shouldn’t be a reason to be afraid.
"How are you feeling?" the man asked.
"Fine," I managed. "I tripped and fell on my flashlight." That was kind of believable, except for the fact that my knees and hands weren't scratched up.
"There's still some glass in your forehead. Let me get it out for you," he said, going to the cabinet and pulling out tweezers and a bottle of 90% isopropyl alcohol. He cleaned the tweezers, grabbed a gauze pad, and sat down next to my cot.
"How's school," he asked as he cleaned the wound. I winced and focused on the question.
"Pretty good," I said. He started pulling glass out of my face. "I have a lot of older kids in my classes, though." Talking made the pain less intense, but alcohol was alcohol.
"What grade are you in?" He worked fast and quite honestly, efficiently. He probably wasn't bad for my health.
"Ninth," I said. "But I'm taking a lot of sophomore classes like geometry and biology, and there are quite a few sophomores in my French class."
"Ah. Comment ça va ?" he asked.
"Comme ci comme ça," I said, showing him a "so-so" gesture.
He laughed, yanking out the last shard of glass. "That's it. I'll bandage you up and you can be on your way. What's your next class?"
"World Geography," I said. "I hate maps, so I thought I'd change that."
"Yeah, Earp's great," he nodded. He put a cold white bandage on my face and then patted my shoulder. "Do you need help getting up?"
I shook my head, and he stepped out of the way. I took a deep breath and shakily got up. I felt steady enough, and I took a step forward. No problem. I had a question of my own, though.
"How old are you?" I asked. He stopped in his cleanup, looking confused. "I don't mean this body, but like you. How old are you?"
"How… how do you know about this?" he paled.
I plot my words carefully. "My friend, he's like you, too." If he was even still my friend.
"You don't have to worry about that," he said. He turned around with a piece of cream paper. "Have fun in geo."
I took the late pass. "Okay." He walked me to the office entrance and I walked through the November chill to my geography class.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
