QED CLUB: the go-to place of students and teachers in Clark High whenever they have mind-boggling mysteries they want solved. For months, club president Loki Mendez has been managing it alone, but circumstances will force him to open its doors to ne...
A/N: We're back to the start—way before the QED Club became the QED Club that we know today and we've come to love—but this time, in Loki's POV!
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LOKI
IF I could solve complex mysteries, then I could solve this pesky problem.
It had been a year since I founded the QED Club. To quote Charles Dickens, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Now that the new academic year had begun, I was required to submit an annual club renewal form to the Office of Student Affairs. All clubs on campus needed to undergo the same tedious process. No exemptions. Jeez! This was such a hassle. I could have spent the time filling out that form and attaching relevant documents to solving mysteries on the first week of classes.
But I was in luck. The OSA director appreciated the work that I'd done for Clark High last year. Because of me—and my club—missing students and items were found, vandals were caught, and cheaters were exposed. She also owed me for finding her stolen laptop (an OSA student aide took it). Her memory must still be sharp as she didn't forget my good deeds. She gave me an express approval, and voila! My club was renewed for this academic year.
Problem solved, right? Not really.
The club had been renewed, but the clubroom was in dispute. By default, small clubs like mine weren't entitled to our own space in the high school building. But I was able to make it look like my club was big enough that we needed a room for ourselves. How? I kindly asked a couple of my classmates and schoolmates to sign up as dummy members. Once I was given a clubroom, I kicked them out since they'd already fulfilled their purpose.
Last year, that trick worked. This time, it wouldn't.
Why? Because of the troublesome student council. They created this committee with a long assname that got the power to assign rooms to clubs as long as they met the required minimum number of members. A club must have at least five. As of writing, my club only had one member: me. That alone automatically disqualified my club.
If only the person in charge of that committee was kind and generous to me, I wouldn't have any problems at all. Unfortunately, the chairperson was not a friend of mine. He's not even friendly to me to begin with. He's close to being my enemy.
"Mr. Mendez, how many members does your club have?" asked a towering student who was seated across me. If a midget were to see him, they'd be intimidated by his height. They'd think that he's standing even though he's comfortably sitting in his makeshift throne. He sat against the light, making his face dark.
"Only one," I replied confidently. "Me and myself."
Most fringes of his hair reached his eyebrows, but not long enough to cover his dull, gray eyes. His face was akin to a marble statue's, no hint of expression or whatsoever. In a not so strange way, it felt like I was looking at my own reflection. He had a metal badge pinned on his lapel, a symbol that screamed "Kneel before me, mortals! Coz I'm part of the all powerful council." He's the vice president of Clark High's student council, but his actual role was bigger than being a spare tire.
