Agent Atlantis

Chapter 15--Not Roommates, but Assassins

Until it happened, Luke had never wondered how the first trip to his dorm room outside of West Artena would go. He didn't expect to have to take a break from walking every minute, thanks to the still-healing injuries from Jerry. He wasn't expecting that his dorm room was on the top floor—five flights of stairs up, since the elevator door sensors had been damaged by a drunk bodybuilder the day before.

But the last thing he was expecting was to be slapped by a group of girls that thought he was following them—even though it wasn't his fault they couldn't walk faster.

So now he found himself stranded on a landing between floors two and three, his course materials on the floor. Agents gave him a weird look as he struggled to bend over (apparently some of his ribs had been bruised in the spar too).

Finally, the world took pity on him, and a boy around his age stopped to help. "Rough day, huh?" he said sympathetically.

Luke realized that his bandages looked like he'd been beat up by a gang of bullies, but he wasn't about to correct the boy. "Uh . . . thanks," he said, trying to hide his suspicion.

The boy stepped back as Luke tried to take his stuff back. He brushed his ashy white hair out of his eyes. "You're not in a condition to carry these nightmares." He shuddered, as if the textbooks brought back bad memories. "How about I take these to your dorm? Where do you live?"

"They said . . . uh . . ." Luke checked his schedule. "The Cactus Dorm." He felt ridiculous as he said it. He looked at his schedule again, cursing with whoever had messed with it. It'd probably been one of Jerry's friends . . .

But then the boy's blue eyes lit up in recognition. "Hey, I live there too! You must be our new dorm mate! I'm also a first-year. The name's Arcadia. Agent Arcadia."

Luke hoped the introduction was just a coincidence. But as he found playfulness staring back at him, he found that hard to believe. Still, he smiled gratefully, then followed behind the boy.

"My name's Luke," he said, trying to break the silence when Arcadia kindly let him rest on the next landing. "I just arrived—"

"I know everything about you." Arcadia smiled.

"Like what?" Luke tried to act calm, but his mind was racing. Just how many people knew about his job as the mole-catcher?

"You're the one who beat Jerry to his knees two days ago, right?" Acadia gushed. "You beat him to a pulp until he was a moment away from death . . ."

"Well, that's not exactly what happened . . ." They reached the fourth floor.

". . . When he woke up, he tried storming into the infirmary to get to you, but the senior agents stopped him. I heard he's been planning his revenge for the past few days. Everyone's super excited."

It's great that they don't know my real identity, Luke thought, but I don't know if this is better.

"The EAUD doesn't get that much action, does it?" Luke asked.

"There's the occasional troublemaker here and there, but not much," Arcadia admitted. "Everything's pretty calm until graduation. Then you get your post in Central Artena, and . . . well, you probably know."

"Yeah." And Luke really did. Maybe even better than Arcadia had guessed.

The rest of the journey was a blur. Arcadia was kind, funny, and trustful. If he was the mole, then he was a really good one. He introduced Luke to his friends that passed them in the hallway—and every single one of them only needed one good look to know who he was. He pointed out of the windows at the other buildings on campus. Then he inserted his own key and held the dorm door open for Luke to limp in.