Fall in love in a weekwe get by - стр. 25
Okay, no need to shake. And don't yell. But something needs to be done?! Because now my-Charlotte’s chances of getting attention from him are close to absolute zero. And I can't even blame him for that.
Nightmare.
The coffee ran out, I looked in surprise into the empty cup – I didn’t notice how I drank it. And no fun.
Should I do more?
No. Useless. I’ll drink one more or ten more and nothing will change. Neither this stupid ad nor Dougal Norwood's opinion of Charlotte will go away. Hopelessness.
I put the leaf down, pressing it with an empty cup.
– Sydney. Five days, even a half. “Great,” she said out loud and didn’t recognize her own voice. Oh yes. He's not mine anyway.
“Dream during your lunch break,” came a voice from the door. – You are needed in the lower laboratory. Workshop on sublimation with alchemists. “The professor walked to his desk and suddenly turned around. It seems that this was the first time he looked at me like that – directly and for an infinitely long time, and his dark eyebrow slowly crawled up. Can a person actually arch his eyebrows like that? So what's going on? Not a single muscle moved on the professor’s face, but for some reason it seemed that this was an extreme degree of amazement for him. – Since when are you interested in newspapers? And why wasn’t the main flower garden covered with snow for such an occasion? – he asked venomously. – Mrs. Trunberry suddenly went on vacation? So find another healer.
“I already found it,” I chuckled. – I’ll take this number, there’s just a suitable ad here. Do you mind? If you still need it, I'll return it tomorrow.
– Not needed. And hurry up. In fifteen minutes, even Mr. Obley should be standing at the cauldron with a set of ingredients.
This is where panic overtook me. “I’m coping”? Well, of course, I managed until I was required to do anything more complicated than sorting through mail and making changes to the schedule. I don't even know where this lower laboratory is! Not to mention Mr. Obley and his ingredients.
“Charlotte, your mother, where are you wandering? That is, you fly! WHAT SHOULD I DO?!"
The mental scream was a complete success – Charlotte appeared nearby.
– Calm down, nothing bad is happening. Come down, the lower laboratory is next to the ritual rooms, in one of which we met.
The road seemed to magically appear in my memory. A corridor, a staircase, an open gallery with marble statues, again a staircase and again a corridor, narrow and cold. A group of boys and girls appeared in front of the desired door.
– Open the storage room, tell the students to take the sublimation kits. You'll follow up. Mr. Obley, whom the professor mentioned, is an alchemist who was almost expelled from his first year. Almost expelled thanks to Dr. Norwood. He cannot stand careless treatment of his subjects. Look, he’s disheveled, in a lopsided robe.
They made way for me, but from behind someone called out in an oily voice:
– Good afternoon, Miss Blair. Nice weather today, isn't it?
“Mr. Applestone,” Charlotte explained. – Likes to flirt. Nothing serious, don't pay attention.
“If you, Mr. Applestone, want to go to the beach more than to the workshop, I don’t dare detain you,” I attached the key fob to the lock and was the first to enter the opened door.