CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Harold Girard, Trisha McLeon, and Wilkes Milton were still gathered together in the lunchroom; like a litter of pups nuzzling each other—and their mother. They debated and gave oral reviews of the letter Harold had read out to them quietly for the umpteenth time— undauntedly, even as his voice got drowned several times in the cacophonies that rose from other students; like a sea wave washing over a ship set on sail.

It made absolutely no sense to any of them and even Trisha who had a knack for history—and was very much smarter than the other two, couldn't decode what the puzzling letter was warning Harold about. To the best of her knowledge, it was more of a threat than a warning, and for Harold who hadn't spent up to a week in the school, that wasn't a good thing.

When they'd almost spent almost all of their break time discussing the letter that had seemingly stolen the shine and attention off the main theme the