Chapter Twelve
~ Glen Thornton ~
I’min the superintendent’s office for the fourth time in five weeks.
Major Dunbar sniffs and glares at me from across his big desk. “You’re here to learn discipline and respect for authority. If you want to stay here at Marshall Military, you’re going to have to buck up and stop the whining.”
“I don’t want to stay here.” I clench my fists under the desk. They have nothing on me, because the first chance I get, I’m running away.
I’m not going home, either. My father told me my dogs ran away. I have to find them, and then I’ll travel around the world with them.
My mother said “Bye and wander,” when she died because she wanted me to be a wanderer.
“Your father paid a lot of money to straighten you up,” the superintendent continues. “Effective immediately, you’re to report to the galley after classes to mop the floor. You’re also suspended from sports and socials, and confined to your room when not going to class or working in the galley.”
When I don’t respond, he barks. “Do I hear a ‘yes, sir?’”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get out of here.” He flicks his hand and turns to his computer.
Like I care. Mopping the floor is better than doing things with the other cadets. They’re all mean and pick on me. Not that it bothers me, since I’m used to being picked on.
My mother always said it made me stronger and better. She said all the special people got picked on. She gave me the dogs and lots of hugs, and she would never have sent me here. Now, it’s my job to get out of here and do what she wanted me to do—wander around the world.
I leave Major Dunbar’s office and walk by the secretary’s desk. It’s lunch hour, and no one is there. Her computer screen isn’t locked, and she has a browser window open. What an opportunity.
I immediately go to the Realm of Rogues game site and log in. My inbox is full of messages from my guild. They’re all wondering where I’ve been, but some want to nominate another Thief, since they hadn’t heard from me in weeks.
Wonderman the Archer sticks up for me. He tells them if they kick me out, he’ll leave also. I never have any friends, really, but what the Archer says makes me feel good.
I type a message to him.
Dude, I’m stuck at a military school. Trying to get away. If the guild don’t want us, we don’t need them either.
The superintendent’s office door is still closed, so I browse to my social media accounts. They’re all gone, and so is my email.
My father must have done this. It’s lucky he didn’t know about the Realm of Rogues game.
I don’t have time to play, so I go to the search engine and look for lost dogs. There are lost and found dog sites, and I quickly add a listing for Sierra and Melia, two blue chow chows. Too bad I don’t have a picture of them to post.
The door to the superintendent’s office opens, and I slip under the secretary’s desk. The taps on his shoes click, click, click, as he walks by on his way to lunch.
I wait until the outer door shuts before I get back on the computer. I enter the zip code for our vacation home in the Sierra Nevadas, but no one has found any dogs similar to mine.
I search the rescue shelters and type their names in search engines. No hits except for a hotel in Spain.
Time is ticking away, and the secretary’s lunch break is almost over. I make up new email accounts and get back on social media, but I don’t know any real people who can help.
My gamer friends are probably kids, and I don’t know where they live. The teachers at my old school will probably report me to my father. They were afraid of him because he’s a senator. Even my mother was afraid of him.
I hear the outer door swing open right when I get onto Twitter. I type my dogs’ names into the search bar and get a hit.
It’s from Wonderman, my buddy in the Realm of Rogues. He’s asking my father to let me find Sierra in the realm of Melia.
My heart beats in a frenzy. If my father sees the tweet, he’ll be furious. He told me the dogs were long gone and I was not to be a baby and cry for them.
Just like I’m not supposed to cry for my mother.
