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CHAPTER SEVEN

“Can she come and meet us?” Harold asked Wilkes as they both exited the building.

To their left and right were the students that had queued and gotten their pass. Most of them were headed to their hostels with their bags held in their arms like Arabs walking through the desert with their luggages. They were awfully tired and a few were dripping with sweat.

“Do you mean Trisha?” Harold asked back.

“Yes, Trisha. If she can make it to the canteen on time, should she come?”

“Of course,” Harold said as he saw some students heading out of their hostels the same way he and Wilkes had. “It's funny that you asked if she can come.”

On the outside, to their left was a queue made up of nothing less than thirty students. They all seemed anxious and somewhat impatient.

“He's here. He's following us!” Wilkes whispered to Harold. He pinched his hand softly, too, to have his attention.

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