Free The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) by Allice Revelle Page B

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    I giggled at the term “ Hoganator ” and “Miss President”. There were colorful swirls and smiley faces all over the paper that looked playful and inviting. It seemed like a good , fun club to be part of, and one that didn’t look too time-consuming either.
    Mr. Hogan came up behind me and laughed also, “I keep telling that girl to stop calling me the Hoganator , but after she found out my love of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies she just hasn’t let it go!”
    I laughed along, pulling the sleeves of my coat down over my hands from the chilly air conditioned room. “It sounds interested. I think I’ll give it a try.”
    “Ah, you’re Emery Miller, aren’t you?” he asked, “I saw you in the back of the classroom. Very attentive. I think you’re going to make a fine student here, Miss Miller.”
    I beamed, bidding him a goodbye as I pushed through the door. My heart thudded excitedly against my ribcage, and for a brief second I felt that I had not a care in the world.
     
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    The first day rush came in an exciting spurt and died out when night fell. I had just finished a roughly ten to twelve page outline of Macbeth when I heard the sound of something sharp hitting my window. My desk was exactly right of the window, and even with the drapes pulled apart and the blinds up I could see, even from this angle, the magnificent view of the outside.
    And the rocks thrumming against the windowpane, shining against the dusk light.
    I knew it was Dove coming for our “training”. I sighed, looking at t he clock. It was way after eight o’clock, with just enough light left outside to make your way through the patch of woods.
    My legs were still throbbing from the one mile lap we had to do in gym, and my hand wa s cramping already from copying pages and pages of biology terms and writing that Literature outline. I had already spent the remainder of the afternoon hanging out where the Humanities club visits (and then spent the rest of my time lounging around the library to catch up on this overload of studies) and finished most of my homework as well.
    Karin Foster was indeed as eccentric as the piece of poster board she had advertised on. A junior just like Jack, she said she started the Humanities Club to bring history lovers and haters together. And there was indeed free food and drinks, with light hearted talk about what the club does. She said there weren’t many members, since St. Mary’s was more of an academics school; after that most of the attention went to the sports or arts , so clubs like the Humanities Club had to struggle to find members on their own. From what I heard, there were less than ten actual members and three or so (including myself ) that seemed interested in joining. We exchanged emails, promising to give me the latest updates of the clubs activities.
    She was just like Rachel back home. Bubbly and sweet and adventurous. Karin was all of those things, plus super confident and a natural born leader, and I liked that about her. And, despite her obvious wealth (she personally paid for the pizza’s and drinks at every meeting), she treated everyone on equal ground—scholarship or not.
    The pitter-patter of pebbles continued and I slammed my notebook close in defeat. I really only had half of my Biology homework to complete, and push come to shove I could just finish it up early the next morning . I rubbed my sore hand and opened the window. Dove was standing in plain sight and froze in mid throw. It was actually kinda funny, seeing someone as graceful as her about to break my window.
    She motioned for me to hurry down, and I mouthed “five minutes” before closing the window again and pulling the curtains. I grabbed my favorite pair of worn out sneakers (I didn’t need to worry about damaging my uniform; it was hanging nice and neat and freshly clean, courtesy of the small laundry room in the basement level of Moore Dormitory, in my closet) and I quickly assessed