Dismissed ⤯ Tom Holland

3 | Roommates

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"Jamie," the girl said, sticking out her hand, "Coleman."

The girl's outgoing personality put me on edge. I didn't want to make the wrong impression, and become her friend, because in all honesty, I didn't. All I was here for was to find the thief and report back to HQ, and someone like Jamie was going to get in the way of that.

"Jamie?" I questioned, brushing past her hand and tossing my bags on the spare bed.

"I know," she laughed, oblivious to the fact that I didn't shake her hand back, "It's a boys name, but I think it fits me."

"It's not your real name?"

"Define real," she smiled, "It's not my birth name, but what's wrong with feeling myself?"

Everything.

If I ever felt myself, I'd be out of a job. You either work for the BIC, or don't, there is no you to them. Unless you get promoted, which is what I'm working for.

"How old are you, Jamie?"

"I'm a senior here at Francis," she said, "so I'm 22, why?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, "you just seem like you know a lot about this place."

"Oh, I do!" she exclaimed, "I can give you a tour if you want!"

I was about to shake my head no, but I froze. This was the perfect opportunity to get a rough idea of the school without creating suspicion. I was only going to be a new girl, for a couple days, anyways.

"Yes," I nodded, "I mean- yeah. Sure."

"Great," Jamie said, "we can walk to the Dining Hall together."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The dining hall? It's mandatory that all students eat dinner together."

"I thought that only happened in Harry Potter," I said under my breath, not aware that sound traveled quickly around the room.

"Yes, well, Harry Potter was based on UK schools," the girl said, "I'm surprised you've never been to a Dining Hall. Where are you from, Eliza?"

Absolutely not.

It was bad enough that I'd be rooming with this girl for a while, but now she was prying into my personal life. Technically, I didn't have a personal life, but still. What did it say on my passport? Come on, come on, remember...oh right, yes.

"America," I snapped, "New York."

"You sure don't sound like it."

Bloody hell.

I forgot to come up with an accent. Why the heck did I think I could pass off as an American with my London accent?

"My parents are british," I lied, "but I was born in the states."

"That's cool! I've never been to the Big Apple, what's it like?"

Enough!

I've been to New York City before, but I was too busy tracking down a rogue british politician to pay much attention to any of the city life.

"Crowded..." I slurred, "and big?"

"Oh," Jamie sighed, tilting her head, "it doesn't sound that exciting."

"Well, that's why I came here!" I said, plastering a fake smile on my face, "to good old, Edinburgh."

"Right," she concluded, glancing at her watch, "we best be going, then."

"Going? Where are we going?"

"To the Dining Hall. Harry Potter, remember?"

"Oh, wonderful."

"You can unpack later," Jamie noted, opening the door, "Agatha will have our heads if we're late."

"Who's Agatha?"

"The matron," she rolled her eyes, "she's a real thick-head, if you ask me."

Okay, two more people to add to my list. Jamie, the over-social roommate, and Agatha, the hated matron. Jamie seemed to be a little over the top at greetings, which made me suspect why she wanted to know all this information about me, anyways.

And whoever Agatha was, obviously wasn't the school's given angel. There must be a bad side to her.

"Well, don't just stand there," the girl laughed, "let's go!"