Reward for good?

Even with the heavy amount of pressure imposed on Oliver, he still didn't succumb to revealing his on-stage encounter to Olivia. He realized, however, that she didn't actually see the strange man, it turned out she only sensed the occurrence of something unusual.

Olivia finally left the locker area, since Oliver wouldn't tell her what she wanted to hear. She didn't leave with the conclusion that he actually knew nothing regarding her question just like he claimed he did, she believed he was just so impossible to spill his guts about his cryptic encounter that day on stage.

Oliver however, headed off immediately to the library. His main concern ever since wasn't even to conceal his secret experience by every means possible. His mind hasn't ceased to remind him that he owes someone an explanation,

The library was a little scanty today, and also unusually quiet as a graveyard. The reason for that was due to the return of the chief librarian; Mrs. Penelope Stuart; an average-height woman around her late forties, perfectly described by her broad flabby face, slightly pointed nose, wide slack mouth with broad lips that were always smeared with deep red glossy pigment, and very little neck that one could hardly see. She had short wavy brown hair that stopped right below her ears, and spots of facial hairs underneath her jaw.

Her round sharp green cat-like eyes constantly flashed about vigilantly behind a pair of red square glasses, as she purposefully scanned around for dozers and noisemakers in the library, who could penalize with tiresome tasks throughout the week. Tasks like dusting bookshelves, or sorting of outdated books to be moved to the old library on the ground floor, were commonly applied.

Coupled with the fact that Mrs. Penelope possessed a somewhat grotesque appearance that was mostly horrifying, she was also a very strict and severe person who would never tolerate from anyone; be it a student or teacher, any form of negligence to the laid down rules and guidelines on how to behave while in the library. She was so feared to the extent that she could no longer catch actual noisemakers, so instead she listens attentively for the lowest of whispers and shuffling of feet.

Throughout the previous night, certain thoughts did seriously trouble Oliver. The lad laid in bed for over five hours but had not up to two hours of sleep. The rest of the time, he had spent gazing into void darkness, deep in thoughts. Even now as he walked through the hallway, he began to feel troubled within himself, he began to experience that same feeling he felt the previous night, except that he couldn't tell what was actually troubling him, or recall the thoughts he had.

He was having that unexplainable feeling of discomfort you have that something bad is going to happen. You don't even know what it is, or even have the least idea how it is to occur, yet it feels so inevitable.

Oliver's mind was so restless. He began to rack his memory, to see if he could find out what was troubling him. Soon he recalled that he read something that night, from the weird book he got from the old library; the WEREWOLF MORPHOLOGY.

Being so convinced of the kind of creature that attacked Alex, Oliver was so curious and worried that he went later that day to find out from his new book, if werewolf scratches had an aftereffect. The results he got after reading the book that night in the hostel was what kept him up almost throughout the night, in a very troubled and moody state.

Initially, he thought that since it was only a scratch not a bite, it wasn't all that serious, but then he found out from the book that not only do werewolves have lethal bites, but they also possess dangerous claws that drip with paralytic venom which would cause severer hallucinations and cerebral paralysis to a victim and may at a greater chance, kill he/she within the space of twenty-four hours. And also, if at all the victim survives death by chance, he/she won't escape becoming a werewolf.

Oliver quickly glanced at his wristwatch.

"Oh no..." he gasped under his breath.

It was almost twenty-four hours from the time he heard Alex's voice from the woods yesterday. Oliver's worry increased. Time was running out and he was yet to hear any reports concerning Alex's wellbeing. It felt strange how no one was talking about the incident

Oliver became more worried, he could no longer contain his curiosity. There was a boy coming his way. Oliver quickly approached him.

It was a short chubby looking boy with a round face and eyes that were curved down, giving him the most dull and miserable look.

"Hay, have you heard any info on Alex's medical update? Oliver asked in his most casual tone; trying to sound less desperate.

There was no reply from the boy. He kept on gawking at Oliver with his mouth slacked open in the most awkward manner, as someone lost in translation, as though he was being spoken to with a language whose existence lies far beyond our solar system.

And then, because Oliver barely knew what to next to say, and also because the silence seemed to be getting more awkward by the moment, he said to the boy;

"It feels quite a bit hinky, you know, considering the fact that Alex suffered such terribly injuries and I feel I'm the only one talking about—"

"I don't know Alex," blurted out the healthier-looking boy before Oliver could finish. He sounded so lost and sincere.

"You… you don't know Alex Humphrey?" Oliver muttered with surprise.

"Come on, you've definitely seen him before. Seventh grade, red hair, basketball, friends with Sparky, remember?"

"I don't have any idea who you're talking about. I'm new to this place, just came in today," replied the boy.

"Oh, I… didn't know that," Oliver said.

"Yeah, you wouldn't, cos no one cares around here. No one would ever understand how it feels to lose the one last person you call family, only to be brought all the way to this shit hole orphanage," the boy protested with agony in his voice, and tears already pouring down his eyes.

Oliver felt a lot speechless at the boys rather sudden reply. However, he wasn't at any bit sympathetic to his sad story; not because it wasn't half as agonizing and excruciating as his, he was just being his normal self.

"Actually, it's called Melrose High," Oliver replied, breaking the silence.

The boy scoffed aloud in disgust.

"The name is Jimbo. It's nice to meet you too," he told Oliver, with a rather brusque tone, then he went his way. Oliver on the other hand went his way too, realizing he was running out of time.

On his way to the library, Oliver tried asking a couple more people if they'd heard any reports concerning Alex, but neither of their responses was helpful.

Just inches away from the door was Oliver when he sensed the unusual state of silence in the library. Fortunately for him, he was able to halt himself right at the nick of time, avoiding what would have resulted in a blisteringly burdensome punishment.

Oliver curiously wondered for a while what possibly could be the cause of such silence, then slowly and methodically, he twisted open the doorknob.

On getting inside, Oliver was stunned at the very few people that were there. He was totally confused at first, almost convinced that he had entered the wrong room, but when he looked right, and spotted the unnerving figure of Mrs. Penelope, staring a hole through him, through her square shaped glasses, he understood.

He immediately looked away from the librarian, quickly scanning the room. He could have turned round now and left, but he didn't, he had just found the one person he came looking for.

Felicity stood by a long shelf across the room, flipping through the pages of a large green-covered book she was with, minding her business like always.

Oliver quietly walked to where Felicity was, cautious not to draw further attention to himself. He came close beside her where she stood by the shelf, but he made sure not to be seen making eye contact with her.

"Hay," Oliver whispered almost voicelessly, but audible enough for Felicity to hear.

Felicity remained mute. She didn't even flick a glance at him or show her awareness of his presence.

Oliver looked over his shoulder to be sure Mrs. Penelope wasn't watching.

"Felicity… Felici…" he called with a whisper.

"I can hear you," came a quick reply from Felicity.

"Sorry about what Olivia said… about you," Oliver humbly said to her.

Felicity looked behind her, then up at him.

"You shouldn't be," she said with a sincere tone, forcing a faint smile. "That actually um… meant nothing to me," she added with a slight shrug.

Oliver could see in her eyes, all the emotions that she was struggling to subdue, and for that moment he was totally speechless.

There was a brief moment of silence between Oliver and Felicity, but to break the silence and also, change the course of their conversation, Felicity said;

"So, um… you were going to tell me something before I…"

"Oh… yes, about that... Felicity, I… I know you're upset with me, and I understand, you have every reason to be. But… the truth is, it's not actually my fault I left you alone yesterday in the old library. What happened was that…" Oliver stopped now as he noticed the way she had been staring at him in an awkward manner

"What?" he muttered.

"What are you saying?" she asked, with a look of puzzlement on her face.

"I was just explaining why I couldn't make it to the library yesterday. Look, I know how you could've felt, and I think it's okay to be mad at me," Oliver explained.

"Oliver, I heard what happened yesterday, I mean— how you and Jasper got Alex out of the forest. It was actually stunning what you both did for him, considering your pretty rough history with him. Meanwhile, who said I was mad at you, I mean (scoffs)… why would I be?" Felicity said.

"Wait, so you're not…" Oliver muttered inaudibly, with a thoughtful tone.

"Yes, I am not angry at you… at all. I never was," she told him, constantly stealing glances at the kooky chief librarian across the room.

Oliver was really confused at this point. He believed she was upset with him all along, but now she claims never to be. Now it felt so difficult to decide which was true; the truth he saw or the truth he was told.

"So that means we're good, right?" Oliver asked.

Felicity gave a silent giggle.

"Sure, good is great," she replied to Oliver.

While they were still talking, and the library was still quiet, the entrance door suddenly flung open, and someone barged into the room, glaring around doggedly like he was in an urgent search for something.

It was a baldheaded man, probably in his late forties, perfectly dressed in a double-breasted black suit and a pair of dark shady glasses. He had a gold-plated metal badge attached to his chest, showing he was a top-ranked HCI detective agent. Also, with him was the new kid Oliver met in the hallway.

Oliver turned his gaze to Mrs. Penelope. Clearly, she was so aggravated by the way the detective barged into the library in a noisy nonchalant manner.

The detective unfolded a white sheet of paper he had with him. Oliver could see the portrait of a person through the back of the thin translucent sheet, but he couldn't identify who it was from the distance he stood. It was clear now, the aim of the detective for visiting the school library, he was in search of the person whose image he had on paper. And considering the way he looked at everyone, the person was definitely a student. But which student could have possibly gotten the attention of a security agency as superior as the HCI, Oliver wondered.

As the detective proceeded forward towards the rows of long reading desks, Mrs. Penelope furiously sprang up from her chair and headed straight to confront him.

"Hold it right there!" came the loud screeching voice of Mrs Penelope.

The detective halted immediately he heard the voice, and candidly, he turned to the approaching chief librarian who was already fuming with annoyance.

"What nonsense did I just witness?" she said, "You, you do look like a gentleman, so I believe you know that this place in an academic institution of basic learning, and mostly, a library. If at all you are well mannered as you look, then how dare you come in here in such a noisy manner as if you own the place, who do you think you are?"

The detective stately unhooked his shield-shaped gold-plated badge from his breast pocket and showed it to Mrs. Penelope as if answering her question. This action seemed to have provoked her the more.

"My eyes work perfectly fine. I don't care if you are some elitist of some sort, I'm the last person in this institution who would tolerate such disrespect and disregard for simple rules. You come here putting up your badge just to prove a point, have you no shame, have you no integrity?!"

"Pardon my sincerely unintended negligence to your library standards milady, it's just that… we detectives rather always put the course of a case before any other thing what so ever," said the detective, with a solemn tone.

"So now you're gonna lecture me on ethics, huh?! Do you know who I am? I am the only one with ethics around here, do you understand what I'm saying?!" Mrs. Penelope yelled furiously.

The detective soon realized that Mrs Penelope was out for hell so he decided to ignore her completely and head on with his task.

Oliver and Felicity could have left for the old library, but their curiosity to know who the detective came for, got the best of them both.

The detective soon called out the name of the student he came looking for. The name he called, however, surprised everyone, especially Oliver.

"…Oliver Logan, isn't he here?"

"Did he just..." Felicity muttered in surprise.

"He just called my name, didn't he," Oliver whispered in disbelief.

Oliver was still yet to be convinced by what he had just heard. He couldn't believe he was the one the detective came for.

"Oliver Logan, please identify yourself immediately," the man said.

Oliver was almost starting to get frantic at this point.

"It can't actually be me he's looking for, I mean… Possibly there's some other kid with the same name as…"

"Oliver," Felicity cut in abruptly. Then looking straight at him with her simple artless visage, and glistening green eyes, she told him sincerely; "I… I think it's you he's looking for. I've been in the orphanage for quite a long time, so far, there's only one Oliver Logan I know."

Oliver knew she was one hundred percent right, and nothing could change that.

"Don't you think you should tell him it's you? I mean, It's not like you've done anything wrong, or have you?" Felicity said.

"Non that I'm aware of," replied Oliver.

Just as Oliver finally was about to identify himself, he spotted the new kid he met earlier in the hallway, pointing right at him, and muttering something to the detective.

Now the detective was staring at him with that expression that could only be saying, "Finally! I got you". He began coming toward where Oliver and Felicity stood

"I think he's coming straight at us," Felicity said to him.

The man stopped right in front of them. He took a glance at the paper in his hand, then looked down at Oliver, thoughtfully.

"Well, well, you must be Oliver Logan," he said.

"Yes I am," answered Oliver. "I was actually going to tell you myself, not until a certain someone witlessly obtruded," he explained.

"Mister Logan, I've been looking everywhere for you," said the detective.

"Why do you sound like I'm in trouble? Is… is there a problem?" Oliver asked with curiosity in his voice.

"For now, I can't tell if you are in trouble, but I do know something I can tell. Just yesterday, a mate of yours fell victim to a mysterious attack. Sustaining several rather violent wounds and bruises at really critical parts of his body, he was left in a kind of state I'd rather call, inanimate," explained the detective.

Oliver's heart leaped when he heard the last few words.

"Hold on a second, do you mean Alex? I don't get it, by calling him inanimate, you mean like… he's dead?" Oliver asked, his eyes firmer.

Low hums and murmurs gradually aroused from amongst those in the library.

"I'm afraid I'm not in the position to answer that question, Mister Logan. What attacked the victim, however, still remains a mystery..."

"Wait, why are you telling me all this?" Oliver asked thoughtfully.

"Reports had it that you were present at the scene, almost entirely covered in blood. Also, a series of fingerprints detected around the victim's wounds were confirmed to be yours," explained the detective.

"Well, that's clearly because I did touch him. Alex was bleeding really bad, I couldn't let him drain to death when I knew I could help," explained Oliver, looking around as if to answer the questions on the faces of everyone.

"Wait a second, am I like some kind of suspect?" he asked the detective.

"I'm afraid son, but all leads point right at you. Right now you're the only one I believe knows what really happened to mister Alex. You're coming with me," answered the detective.

"What?" Oliver muttered in shock. He couldn't believe what the detective had just said, making it seem like he was a suspect. Oliver glanced around him, all eyes were unshakably fixed on him. There was silence although the room. He immediately buried his face beneath the ground, he could no longer bear the looks on everyone's face.

"This is so ridiculous. Oliver knows nothing about the attack, why treat him this way?" Felicity protested, but the detective didn't seem to have paid her any attention, no one did.

Felicity was really upset. It felt so unfair and ungrateful, how Oliver was treated, considering his only intention was saving Alex's life.