Chapter 57: Keys (Part 2: Finale)

Trick or not, before the two officers left Milo alone, West had one last request.

"If you hear those words, or remember hearing them, give us a call."

A piece of paper had been tossed onto his lap, with no way to refuse it.

"With what, Mr. West?" he had asked.

"Then tell an instructor," the officer had answered.

Milo and Miss Cox resumed their session.

Because it was their first time, no topic had been explored in depth, and with the expeditions coming up next week, the date for their next consultation had not been made clear yet.

He reckoned, however, that he could do at least one kind thing for someone he liked—the only person, really, that he liked.

At the door, he turned back.

"Miss, since we might not see each other for a longer period... I heard you’ve written a book. Could I borrow a copy?"

Luckily, she didn’t question where he knew that from and seemed more excited about his willingness to work on himself throughout the expedition.

The book would be handed over to Layla, for a reason she wouldn’t approve of.

With the book in hand, he exited the room. The session had ended along with a lesson, so he expected turmoil: students flowing in every direction, scrambling for any hints regarding the examinations so they could do their best.

Maybe that was also the point. Thwaite wanted to find out who had been working all year, before a few desperate evenings made everyone equally convincing.

That was a defensible idea, provided the principal had also considered what would happen when the unprepared discovered how little time they’d been given.

To Milo’s surprise, the building seemed deserted. Enough for him to start worrying about his inaudible steps, in fact.

If the Field examination made him jump, a whole class would be waiting to hear him land. What he needed was the Consultation unlocked at Day, and he saw no other path but to help himself to part of the omen stockpile.

A plan had begun to surface piece by piece when, at last, the silence resolved into discussions muffled by the doors.

Of course. The students would not scramble in every direction; they wouldn’t let the teachers leave the classrooms to begin with.

Some of the yells even rattled the handle as he reached his palm out.

But he froze at the sight of an open door to his right.

Certainly no shouting came from there.

If it did, Milo would likely have run by now, under the impression that a killer was on the hunt.

But no, amid the chaos that unfolded behind the other doors, there was one space that remained untouched. He could only suppose what had happened there. Perhaps the class had dragged the teacher out to practice something more relevant than reading maps.

Milo stepped inside, where the clock’s ticking was distinct beneath the uproar next door, and watched its second hand advance.

Layla, timelines, and the omens. What could those three concepts have in common?

After closing the door to the quiet, he sped right back out toward his actual classroom.

A cherry on top for the plan.

Surely the school was desperate for volunteers to transport the omens back into the hills where Aldous had performed his Turning.

"CALM DOWN!"

The sheer volume of Henry’s voice helped Milo blast the door open.

Everyone paused, heads turning to the threshold to find the intruder.

"Oh, Milo, you’re here," Henry said.

"You expected me?"

"Please tell your class something, because they cannot understand that I have responsibilities!"

"I’m not sure I’m on the best terms with my class." Milo shrugged, tipping his head at all the faces. "Am I?"

"But look, look." Henry lowered his voice, now that he could. "Hear this? Silence. That’s how it should be."

"We’ve never trained for Field!" someone shouted.

The protest spread from desk to desk.

"Let him answer!" Rosaline called. No one listened.

In the back row, just behind his own seat, Milo found his prey.

The green-haired girl stared down at her notebook with wet eyes.

Two weeks ago she had no trouble making herself heard. He could pick that one clear disgusting out of the classroom laughter even now.

In hopes that one would eventually work, Henry continued muttering a dozen different variations of calm down. His voice sank more and more into a hush with each word.

Milo slipped closer.

"Sir, I was just wondering—what kind of responsibilities did you mean?"

"No, it’s nothing. No one will let me leave anyway, and Mr. Thwaite probably agrees with them."

"If it’s something that I can do, maybe I could do it for you."

"No, Milo, you train. You have more absences than I can count. Do you think you can catch up standing there? Go on, join them. Just... just scream at me!"

"Sir, please tell me what it’s about."

"There is still time. I can stay a little and do it afterwards, but, eh..."

"Could you tell me??"

Milo’s patience drained, and the glare he had been giving the green-haired girl broke, settling on Henry instead.

"Survey exam," the instructor huffed. "And the Field one. Mr. Thwaite decided to use the Turning site, and the omens have to be ready. No offence to him, but this was all on the spot."

"So you need someone to take them into the hills?"

"No, that’s arranged. Sort them and have them ready for pickup. That’s my part."

"Well, so you see, sir. That girl in the back, whom I met during the Plague outbreak, really hates noise. We can get the omens ready for transport. While the class calms down."

"You made friends with her?"

"Exactly."

"And don’t know her name?"

"It was a spontaneous conversation."

"Sir, the paper’s tomorrow!" someone called out.

Henry sighed and pointed straight at the girl.

"All right. But don’t lose any on the way. They’ve been counted."

A pair of keys clinked into Milo’s palm. By the time he reached her desk, she had wound a corner of the notebook page so tightly around her pen that it tore when she tried to free it.

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