Fulton's Arrival

It was just the last hour, or what we call it, "Final Hour", of YMPA school. I just finished my last class, which we had a test in there. Every question was like another maze to me, because those long batches of words just confuse my brain into a twirl.

It explains things in the most complex way you could think of, and based on your small understanding, none of the answers sound correct!

Nonetheless, I did it, and I can only expect a C at best. I was in the halls, which were filled with students and the loud and bellowing sound of conversations.

In fact, it was so hideous, it was too easy to hear my phone ringing. I picked it up, seeing that Greg called me. This had to be about our other problem.

I answered immediately. "Yeah, what's up?" I asked. Silence followed after that, before Greg responded with, "Now I know that you may not want to see him. But Fulton wants to talk with us, like, see us."

"Why?"