Hello Monday

Part 11; 7:32 pm

My breath is cut off. Literally.

Monday opens the door and steps outside into the hallway, dragging me by my uniform's collar. I cough as my throat constricts from the pressure.

The seventh floor is the highest point of Haggard High. This is where you go when you crave a beautiful view. The beautiful view is not of mountains and hillsides with rows and rows of pretty flowers, instead it is the view you get when you look up. Another reason why I like being in a school for literal geniuses: the glass roof that allows you to appreciate the heavens. Sure, it gets really hot during the day, but the sight at night makes up for it. It is not uncommon to find both students and teachers lying down on the floor, gazing at the starry night sky for hours no end. It's the only benefit of attending a school so far from society.

So when Monday pulls me to the hallway, the first thing I do—even with the collar digging into my throat—is look up. I close my eyes for a second, letting the moonlight bathe me with its soft, delicate beam. My relaxation is cut short when Monday tugs my collar roughly, pulling my head down.

Under the surprisingly bright evening, I discern a total of three men, each standing guard in front of a classroom. "Oi Monday, where you goin' mate?" the guy closest to us calls out.

"Takin' her downstairs. Victor asked for her."

"Is this her?"

Monday gives him a quick nod.

"Aight, go on down," he dismisses us with a head gesture.

Monday pulls me along as he walks to the staircase around the corner. He doesn't forget to acknowledge the two other men on the way.

However, one step away from turning the corner, one of the guards calls him. I suck in a shallow breath in surprise. Monday looks back, waiting for him to continue. "The vulture is out of the cage. Make sure they don't see each other," the guard tells him.

I could feel Monday fidgeting, shifting from one foot to another. "'Kay," is his answer.

We round the corner and become hidden from their view. I let go of the breath I don't know I was holding. At the same time, Monday unhands me in a way that makes me seem like a hot potato he couldn't hold on to any longer. He walks briskly to the staircase ahead, not waiting for me.

I stare at his back, unmoving for a while before I am hot on his tail. "What was he talking about?"

Monday stops, nearly making me crash into his back if I didn't stop myself in time. He barely turns his head, keeping his eyes to the floor, "Stop asking questions. Just walk."

"Is the vulture a thing or a person? What's with the code names? Is your name even Monday?"

"Shushhhhh," he spits at me, droplets of his saliva landing on my face.

"Can you at least answer me when I ask you a question?" I beg.

Monday stays quiet and continues to walk towards the stairs. I don't follow him, feeling utter disappointment. And here I thought I was making progress with him. Then he surprises me and mutters, "The vulture is a person." My gloomy face lights up. He didn't answer all my questions but at least he answered one. Satisfied with his answer, I skip behind him.

Taking one step at a time, we make our way down a flight of stairs. I find myself grabbing the railing more than once. The shadows on the steps throw me off. I can't tell where the steps start and end.

After a lifetime of tripping, I stumble to the storey where all the magic happens, the sixth floor. Behind every door (except the bathrooms, of course) on this floor is our renowned labs. Straight ahead is the Molecular Biology Laboratory. To the right are different Chemistry, Physics, and more Biology laboratories. It's too hard to explain and understand what they're like if one doesn't see it. Sure, I was excited when I first found out I would be attending the school with really cool labs. But when I first saw the labs with my own bare eyes? I was stupefied. They truly are magical.

Which is where Dr. Sanders and those hideous men will be.

I stop before I could step on the next flight of stairs. "Where did they take her?"

When Monday realizes that my voice is too far to be right behind him, he stops as well on the quarter landing. "The question is: Where did she take them?"

She said if anything went wrong, I am to call that number. Nothing will go wrong if I can help her first, right?

Before Monday can register what I am doing, I do a detour and head to Dr. Sanders' lab: the Molecular Biology Lab. I walk briskly to the door, reaching my hand out to grab the handle. Before I could touch the cold metal, though, I am pulled into the restroom that is just before the door to the lab.

"Are you insane? The person who wants you dead is in there," he whisper-yells at my face, his nasty spit flying everywhere.

"So I'm right, that's where they are," I reply smugly.

"Don't test me. Let's go down."

He tries to grab my hand but I pull away before he could do so. "I might actually think you care about my safety," I sneer.

He drops his hand and sighs, "Princess, if you died, who would give me the money?"

My hands start to feel itchy. It's shaking. It's itchy and shaking, itching to slap him across the face. Dang. So close to cursing again.

Just as I am about to reply, I hear the lab door open. Then laughter.

A very familiar laughter.

Before I could pin the source of laughter, I feel hot breath hitting my face. It is then when I realize that Monday is holding a hand over my mouth and is pushing me against the wall. Neither of us move a single muscle. My heart races at the proximity. So afraid he would find out the things he does to me, I push him away with greater force than necessary.

I turn to open the door, "I'm just going to take a quick look at the lab."

Monday pulls me back, this time careful not to grab my injured wrist. "Don't."

"I have to. I have to at least see that's okay," I plead with him.

"Please, trust me on this one. It will only hurt you."

His words wake the anger that was asleep inside of me. How dare he pretend to care about my well-being now? I clench my fists and snap at him, "How do you expect me to trust you? I don't. I don't trust you. You came, unannounced, to terrorize this school just to–what–take a sample to get money from it? So no, I don't trust you, Monday," spitting out the last part, giving him a taste of his own medicine. I shrug his hand off my arm and pull open the door.

Just as I open the door, a man's back greets me. A man with a black shirt that looks like it is two sizes too big for him. He is facing the window and does not seem to notice the person gawking at him—me. I couldn't look away because there is something that's just very familiar about his everything. His hair, his shoulders, his stance, his scent. The scent is neither good or bad, but it has a very distinct smell that is nowhere near fruity or floral. In this entire school, I only know two people who have this scent following them everywhere. One is Brad Rivers, a junior who looks like a stereotypical nerd with his oversized glasses and his tucked in shirts. It can't be him, though. He's at camp. It can't be person number two either, though. It couldn't.

Dr. Sanders' words are ringing in my ears, "I can tell that he's a nice boy."

... a nice boy.

She's not wrong.

She's never wrong.

Please let her be right, Oh God, please let her be right.

Please let her be right.

Please.

Monday steps out of the toilet with a grimace on his face, the door making loud squeaks from the lack of a lubricant. The man turns around at the noise. As my eyes meet his brown orbs that are slightly covered by the black hair I love to brush back, I couldn't hear anything else besides the deafening shatter of my heart.