In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Matthew cut through the gymnasium into the main halls, all entirely unoccupied. It, once again, filled Matthew with dread, knowing that all energy was being forced into this talk. He skirted around the corners, pressing his body against the walls as flat as he could muster. He peered around every hallway, each time holding his breath. But there weren't any Bots. Not anywhere, in fact.

The assembly will be the hard part, he told himself. The rest, that was just preliminary. The Bots in the gym. That horrible fight. Matthew's thumb, swelling by the second. All extra.

He thought about Jason, amongst the blank school walls. He thought of him holding that knife, ready to use it. He thought of poor Dusty, and the slash across his body. Matthew only hoped Jason had made it back to the others -- at least there was safety in numbers.

Olive was waiting for the right time to approach. They had been waiting out by the front entrance, finding that the doors were locked from the outside, but they were still able to get a good look of the place from the front windows. People were still funneling into the auditorium, a few of which Olive found she recognized. Dusty was leaning over Olive, peering through the pane above her, his mind swarmed with his disorganized thoughts.

"What's taking them so long?" Dusty asked. He looked out into the courtyard, where the truck had pulled up. A white, nondescript, tall truck, from which ten men emerged, unloading film equipment. Cameras, lights.

"They're setting up, I guess. The school doesn't have that stuff on hand," Olive said.

"I think they're almost done," Dusty said, noticing the way the men had started to disappear one by one, probably taking their places inside the assembly hall.

"Okay, let's go," Olive hissed, waving her hand up through the air, and the group stepped forward as one, rushing up alongside the front of the building.

Around the corner, following the trail of men, an open door revealed, leading inside the main building.

"Nice," Olive said, and they stepped inside, one by one. Isaac was the last one to go through, and he closed the door behind them.

They came up to the auditorium in a few dozen feet, bombarded with the hush of voices and scuffling of feet against the floor. Olive's mind swam, knowing she had been there so many times, and yet each time, it felt different. This time, the most different of all.

A Bot ushered them inward, almost immediately. Olive stuttered aloud, almost saying something to it, but she let it push her along into the aisle at the back.

Next to her, Dusty, then Meng. The row cut off, and the brothers were shuffled into the row across from them. Roger shot Olive a glance, and she nodded at him. She folded her hands in her lap, tightly, unable to shake the uneasiness in her stomach.

"What do we do?" Dusty asked, now that all five of them were painfully stationary, shoved in amongst the crowd. There was a woman sitting next to Olive, then another next to her. Olive barely glanced at them, then looked back at her friend.

"I don't know," she said, feeling the corners of her mouth pull down. She was worried for Matthew. She was afraid that they had bitten off more than they could chew, and now, they were worse off than they were before.

"There's too many of them," she said, looking up and out over the crowd, flashes of Blue lights coming from all directions. Bots were swarmed at the front, surrounding the men they had seen minutes before, setting up their equipment. The curtains were pulled down on the stage, and microphones were being tested. Bots patrolled the aisles, marching along determinedly, scanning the faces in the crowd. Olive hung her head slightly, hoping they didn't catch her expression. She hoped for a moment she could disappear.
She looked up once more with the thought of her mother, but all she saw were heads. She thought of Jean, too.

"Olive," Dusty said, his voice suddenly deep and low above the sharp chatter of everyone occupying the room. Olive turned at the sound of her voice.

"Yeah?" She asked. She looked at him, seeing the way his eyes had gone so still, focused on her face, like he was trying to remember it. She shook her head at him.

"What's the matter?" She asked again. He smiled faintly, eyes half-closed.

"Nothing, I just wanted to tell you..." he trailed off. He looked into his lap, and after a few hesitant seconds, his hand slipped into her own. She looked at their hands, suddenly tightly intertwined, then back up at him.

"If anything happens," he started, and Olive froze on the spot. She hadn't the slightest idea.

"I just want you to know... I really care about you," Dusty said, the words coming out awkward and a little rough on the edges, but just as sweet. Olive rushed to follow up, spewing inaudible distractions.

"Don't, Dusty," she started, and his face fell, the change in his expression barely detectable.

"I mean, we will be fine. Don't say these finalities just yet," she said, putting her best encouraging smile on, and Dusty smiled too. She could tell Meng was listening on her left, and she felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"Yeah," he said, and microphone interference interrupted them all. In a few seconds, the room had turned painfully quiet, save for the solemn beeping from the Bots that lined the stage of the auditorium. Now it was time to listen.