The Casanova's Class Clown

Chap. 41: Moirallegiance

MOIRALLEGIANCE...

The Rebel Department's Main Building was definitely something out of a gang movie.

There were rooms dedicated to gambling poker, billiards, plagiarizing IDs of all kinds, and even one that served to be fully air-conditioned down to freezing point to keep the super computer powering DDA's entire surveillance!

And that was just the first and second floors.When they reached the third floor, she couldn't believe Oliver when he said it was literally just one room.

It really was. At the top of the stairs, one could see how each student type marked their territory. From her vantage point, to the upper right were punching bags, weights, and even a Yin and Yang poster. To the upper left were tables of nachos, mac and cheese, paper cups and root beer cans, and black skull balloons floating from the window sill. To her left were long tables of computers tacked with gross stickers; one of the monitors were shattered but still functional. The walls were coated with vandalisms of the high school nature, either of markers, ballpoint pens, or spray paint. The floor was just as grimy and unkempt like the other floors, but the third floor was tiled, not carpeted.

And Emma would have wished she had the good luck of examining this room by her lonesome, but she didn't. Like any other room they walked in on, there were students lounging around, as though third period wasn't a thing.

Her initial action, as was what she did in previous rooms, was to break the ice and greet everyone as friendlily as she could, but Oliver pushed her up the steps even though one of the girls called out to him for a drink.

"They called you." She stated, letting him push her further up the stairs one step at a time.

"So did the other kids in the other rooms. And you know what you said then too?"

She thought for a bit. "They called you?" She repeated.

"E-yup." And then he stopped pushing and they reached the last step, a metal door barring them from the rooftop, the horizontal bars letting rays of sunlight cascade through in thin beams of light. He pushed the handle, but the door didn't budge much. "Sorry, no one really takes this route often." He rammed his shoulder at the door. It moved by a fraction.

Emma stood back. Unless needed—which was anytime Oliver was unable to aid her—Physical strain was not in her vocabulary. "Why not?" She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

Oliver rammed his shoulder on the metal once more, and his ear rang when he felt the rust scrape through the ground when the door moved a fraction more. "Because there's a perfectly good ladder by the side of the building. If you were a rebel liking all the elbow space where you could do everything unconventionally, what would you choose? The stairs, or a ladder?"

She thought for a bit, then stopped. "Can't I just sit back and watch other people choose instead?"

He chuckled, resting his shoulder on the cold metal door after his last ramming. "If you weren't a class clown, what would you be?"

She contemplated, hands in her pockets. "Maybe a nerd. Most probably a slacker though. That'd be nice. But I can't since I don't mind a little bit of hard-work from time to time."

Oliver hid his smile at the remembrance of watching her day in and day out serving every customer with a smile on her face, beaming like sunlight. He paused as he stared at the thin line of light falling into the ladders, and across from him, Emma stood facing him, a smile on her lips because there had to be a reason for her to frown and no reason at all for her to keep her lips a straight line. And he thought once more of how much the girl meant to him, that he'd go through Hell and back as many times as he had to for her, that she was, and always will be, the only one for him.