Escort For The Witch - стр. 4
“Well, well,” he thought, and squinted at the sky, veiled with heavy gray clouds, hoping to glimpse at least a tiny ray of sunshine in it. Never before in his memory had September in New Orleans been so gloomy.
“Well, such things happen sometimes too.” Jack leisurely finished his cigarette and headed towards the university office. A huge sign adorned the freshly painted door, on which in giant scarlet letters was written “Welcome!” Jack smirked and, pushing the hefty door, walked in…
Inside, madness reigned. Everywhere, with wild eyes full of despair, new students wandered – “Fresh blood…” Jack thought sarcastically, immediately brushing the ugly thought off. He somehow managed to squeeze through the crowd of freshmen , who were arguing eagerly about which section of building ‘A’ they should search for the biology lab. And most importantly, how to find this building
‘A’ (since there were seventeen of them, and classes were starting in just thirty minutes, which meant very, very little in the minds of the newly minted students); their cries and shouts grew louder and louder. And this, in turn, irritated Jack more and more. With an air of importance, he elbowed his way to the administrator’s desk and leaned over it. The girl at the desk, who had been humming along to a cheerful tune coming from an old MP3 player, received the fright of her life.
Picking up one of the campus maps lying on the desk, he silently, with a meaningful gesture, handed it to who he thought was the most panic-stricken of the students. The poor kid turned pale and grabbed the lifesaving map with trembling hands, barely restraining a happy smile, before plopping down on a nearby bench apparently intended for the purpose.
“Well, actually, it’s my job, young man,” the administrator girl said in an angry, squeaky voice, her gray eyes boring into on Jack’s smug face.
Jack looked around, wrinkling his nose theatrically.
“Oh, Betty, it’s you. Well, of course it’s you,” Jack smiled. “You’re doing a great job, Betty! Don’t forget to deduct my percentage from the paycheck.”
“No wonder everyone hates you,” the admin girl retorted coldly.
Jack winked cunningly and smiled even wider, trying to suppress more acidic remark that kept coming to his mind.
“Ah, Betty, let’s not argue, okay? This might last until old age. And now, try to actually do at least part of your job, okay? Tell me, where can I find Mrs. Renton?”
The girl shot a malicious glance towards the young man, whose cheerful mood had evaporated without a trace. Her whole demeanor indicated how much she wanted to yank his earring or stick a pencil into his hand. In short, to do anything to get back at him for the snide remarks he constantly showered her with. Poor Betty couldn’t recall a week in the past three years that she had worked at the university office in New Orleans without handsome Jack Cornell, or someone from his small circle, coming in and saying something nasty.
“You know you have yourself to blame, Betty,” Jack said as if reading her thoughts, his voice tinged with reproach. “So just tell me where to find Mrs.
Renton, and I promise you won’t see me again today.”
“She’s filling in for Mr. Zigon today. So, I suppose she’s giving an introductory chemistry lecture in…”