Page 85
Story: Chasing the Red Queen
“Yes,” Donja scowled, “something about getting their approval, oh and he mentioned wine and roses. To be honest, I was disappointed, but now I can see that it was probably for the best, not my brightest moment if you get my drift.”
“Hmm, I suppose,” Makayla said noticing sunlight spilling past the curtains. “Well, we best get dressed, the day’s up and running.”
“Yeah, let’s go check out this professor.”
Makayla bounced to her feet. “I’m all for it, but exactly what do you hope to accomplish?”
“Safety for my family,” Donja sputtered as she stood up and stretched. She cocked her head. “Hey, are there any drive-throughs where a gal can get a vanilla latte?”
“I know just the spot.” Makayla beamed.
~~~
Donja turned the Mustang up the double lane strip paralleling the St. Mary’s River. She braked for a pedestrian crossing, then eased into the campus parking lot of Lake Superior University. She finished up her vanilla latte and got out, sunlight reflected off her dark sunshades. She glanced out from the hillside campus to the St. Mary’s River, past International Bridge to the Canadian Soo. A gentle breeze ruffled her locks which were pulled tight into a ponytail. “Wow, what view.”
“Isn’t it nice,” Makayla cooed.
Donja turned and surveyed the sprawling university. “This looks different than any college I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s old…very old,” Makayla remarked. “It was originally Fort Brady, but they turned it into a university. I read once that several of the original buildings here are listed on historic registers.”
“Interesting, but I don’t like old places. They have ghosts,” Donja remarked as they headed for the administration building.
“Phft! You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Donja said with a wandering gaze. “Who knows, maybe, it’s the sci-fi in me.”
“Or one too many horror movies like ‘The Walking Dead,’” Makayla scowled.
Donja smiled but it was anything but. “Whatever.”
“Sorry,” Makayla mused. “You look pissed.”
“Naw,” she dragged the word. “It’s easy to let our personal beliefs define us, but keep in mind. Just because we fail to believe, doesn’t make it a given. Iridescents are a perfect example. I didn’t believe and yet, they’re real.” She nodded. “I rest my case.”
“Point taken,” Makayla sighed.
They breezed across the parking lot, catching the eyes of several guys. They entered the building through double glass doors, a babble of voices echoing the hallways. Finding the information desk, they waited in line. A clerk, middle aged with salt and pepper hair gave them a sugar-coated smile that didn’t match her judgmental demeanor. She scanned Donja’s makeup, skinny jeans and T-shirt that barely covered her midsection with obvious disgust.
“I’m looking for Professor Bapttise,” Donja said forcing a big smile.
“I think he’s in the lounge, third door to the right,” she said pointing down the hallway with glossy tile floors where students were disappearing into classrooms.
“Thank you,” Donja said with a fast gait, Makayla matching her stride. Nearing the lounge door, a man perhaps sixty, chinless with wispy gray hair and thin black glasses perched on the end of his long nose, exited the door.
“Sir, are you Professor Bapttise.”
He turned to look, lowered his chin and with protuberant eyes gazing over his glasses, grumbled. “Pardon?”
“Are you Professor Bapttise?”
“I am,” he barked, and Donja was instantly reminded of her Pinocchio stuffy from Disney World.
“My name is Donja Bellanger and I need your help.”
“In what way?” he winced as if annoyed.
“I’m in need of a Midewiwin.”
“Hmm, I suppose,” Makayla said noticing sunlight spilling past the curtains. “Well, we best get dressed, the day’s up and running.”
“Yeah, let’s go check out this professor.”
Makayla bounced to her feet. “I’m all for it, but exactly what do you hope to accomplish?”
“Safety for my family,” Donja sputtered as she stood up and stretched. She cocked her head. “Hey, are there any drive-throughs where a gal can get a vanilla latte?”
“I know just the spot.” Makayla beamed.
~~~
Donja turned the Mustang up the double lane strip paralleling the St. Mary’s River. She braked for a pedestrian crossing, then eased into the campus parking lot of Lake Superior University. She finished up her vanilla latte and got out, sunlight reflected off her dark sunshades. She glanced out from the hillside campus to the St. Mary’s River, past International Bridge to the Canadian Soo. A gentle breeze ruffled her locks which were pulled tight into a ponytail. “Wow, what view.”
“Isn’t it nice,” Makayla cooed.
Donja turned and surveyed the sprawling university. “This looks different than any college I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s old…very old,” Makayla remarked. “It was originally Fort Brady, but they turned it into a university. I read once that several of the original buildings here are listed on historic registers.”
“Interesting, but I don’t like old places. They have ghosts,” Donja remarked as they headed for the administration building.
“Phft! You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Donja said with a wandering gaze. “Who knows, maybe, it’s the sci-fi in me.”
“Or one too many horror movies like ‘The Walking Dead,’” Makayla scowled.
Donja smiled but it was anything but. “Whatever.”
“Sorry,” Makayla mused. “You look pissed.”
“Naw,” she dragged the word. “It’s easy to let our personal beliefs define us, but keep in mind. Just because we fail to believe, doesn’t make it a given. Iridescents are a perfect example. I didn’t believe and yet, they’re real.” She nodded. “I rest my case.”
“Point taken,” Makayla sighed.
They breezed across the parking lot, catching the eyes of several guys. They entered the building through double glass doors, a babble of voices echoing the hallways. Finding the information desk, they waited in line. A clerk, middle aged with salt and pepper hair gave them a sugar-coated smile that didn’t match her judgmental demeanor. She scanned Donja’s makeup, skinny jeans and T-shirt that barely covered her midsection with obvious disgust.
“I’m looking for Professor Bapttise,” Donja said forcing a big smile.
“I think he’s in the lounge, third door to the right,” she said pointing down the hallway with glossy tile floors where students were disappearing into classrooms.
“Thank you,” Donja said with a fast gait, Makayla matching her stride. Nearing the lounge door, a man perhaps sixty, chinless with wispy gray hair and thin black glasses perched on the end of his long nose, exited the door.
“Sir, are you Professor Bapttise.”
He turned to look, lowered his chin and with protuberant eyes gazing over his glasses, grumbled. “Pardon?”
“Are you Professor Bapttise?”
“I am,” he barked, and Donja was instantly reminded of her Pinocchio stuffy from Disney World.
“My name is Donja Bellanger and I need your help.”
“In what way?” he winced as if annoyed.
“I’m in need of a Midewiwin.”
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