Alternative

| Chapter Seventeen

As I step out of my car and inside the building, I know normal isn't easy to attain. All eyes are on me the moment I'm through the main entrance. They are wide, curious, and observant. I try not to let it bother me as I approach the front desk.

"Hi." I wave at the receptionist who normally greets me with a smile. This morning her face remains flat. She lifts her brows at me, irritated.

I clear my throat as I approach her desk. "Have you seen Joe? My data partner? I've been trying to reach him and—"

"He was here about half an hour ago," she says, but looks back at her computer as though it didn't matter. She's chewing bubblegum, pops a bubble, then returns to whatever it was she was typing.

"Okay?" I purse my lips and rest my elbows just beside the Alt-life sign-in sheet. "If he was here, did he say where he was going? Or why he left?"

Her fingers dance across her keyboard. I watch her, ignoring the people that walk too close behind me, but don't say a word. Where are my good mornings? A part of me is bothered by the silence.

"Hey." I slap my hand against the desk and get her to finally look at me. "Are you going to update me or what?"

With an attitude, her lip moves up. She clicks her tongue against her teeth. "Just go see Morris," she says, aggressively hitting keys. "He's been looking for you anyway."

My heart drops into my stomach and boils in the pit of my nervousness. Immediately, I'm worried Elizabeth called and complained. Reported me.

I couldn't let what Morris knows stay a one-sided story. He needs to hear my side, too.

Not wanting the receptionist to see my sudden change in emotion, I inch back, tapping my hands against her desk as I slide them off.

Then I say, "Fine," and turn towards the elevators.

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Morris' office door is already open when I step inside. He sits at his desk, countless papers placed in front of him. When I knock against the doorframe, he looks up but doesn't give me his normal greeting. He just points at his chair and clears his throat.

"Morning, boss," I say as I sit across from him. My nervousness nearly spills over onto the surface. Still, I try and keep my cool. There is no point in lying, right? I'm sure he knows all about Elizabeth by now, especially if Joe was here earlier.

"Well, you look busy." I try to break the ice, shatter the silence. Morris doesn't even look at me. He's focused but I can tell he's angry.

Clearing my throat, I cross my legs and lean forward. I smile as I say, "I'm sure Joe came in here talking to you. Did he mention jazz?"

"Jazz?" Morris slightly lifts his head, glaring at me. "Really, Ray?"

I struggle to keep my smile. "He didn't tell you what happened?" When Morris' face doesn't change, I frown. My palms begin to sweat. I can only assume Joe came in and spilled the beans, but by the look on I'm getting, there wasn't much clarification to the story.

I inch forward in my seat. "Look, I can explain, okay?"

Morris grumbles as he slides his hands over his head. In one motion, he pushes most of the papers towards me. "Do you see these, Ray?"

Fear grips my chest. From my angle, I see graphs, numbers. I try to pretend as if I don't know what he's showing me, but I do. It's Alt-Life data, Harvester charts.

"Can you explain these timestamps, Guzman?" He calls me by my last name, never a good sign. It takes me back to when I was in school, heading to detention.