"What happened?
Someone said you were hurt?"
"The slimebags
knocked me down, trying to take my computer. I'm okay. My clothes are wet, but
I'm okay. They didn't get my computer." She laughed a little unsteadily.
"End of the
world as we know it. Want me to call Ford? Or Charlotte?"
"Maybe you
should." She sighed. "Campus police just showed up, and it's that
ink-for-blood regulation-bound weasel at the wheel, which means reports in
triplicate."
The baritone voice
started arguing with someone in the background, insisting Athena needed to get
checked by a doctor before she gave reports.
I grinned and about
half my tension dropped off, because if Athena could say what she did about the
one-and-only Julia Irving, head of campus security (voted most likely to
bankrupt the college from too much paper-pushing), then she was all right. She
might be wet, she might have fallen down, she might be upset about having to
fight to protect her computer, but she wasn't hurt, and she wasn't scared.
"Who is that
guy?" I had to ask, as the baritone voice got louder, drowning out Julia's
whiny voice. She certainly sounded like the chittering of a weasel, and all the
slinking, self-righteous little sidekicks of despots ever portrayed in movies.
"I'm not sure, but he does look familiar."
Within two hours, an outraged Ford Longfellow reported that Athena's knight errant was none other than Freddie Grandstone.
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