HE WAS SWEATING PROFUSELY AS HE PEDDLED – and, on the last-kilometre to the school… there-were cars parked at the roadside, of denizens of all ages and nationalities, waiting to catch a passing glimpse of the ‘visitors’ from Manchester…

… particularly, Lord Stamford whom everyone wanted-badly to meet, in the flesh… who they faithfully-worshipped the trillionaire, like a modern-day fairy-tale superhero, for he had DONE ‘MIRACLES’ for their country’s ailing economy…

… and also, he was AN-IMAGE OF GOD-like too-to them…

… living this long as, the OLDEST-MAN ON EARTH, with heavenly-righteous virtues… because he ‘GIVES-AND-NOT-TAKE,’ as a philanthropist of major world-economies…

… and, therefore, the immature society of the materialistic world – had made Lord Stamford as ‘THEIR’ ROLE-MODEL… and, turning a blind eye on how he had gathered his vast enormous wealth, over the long-long years, before they were-even conceived-and-born – but…

… they did ‘NOT’ DARE TO ASK-QUESTIONS, whether he had unethically crossed-the-line, to procure his colossal legacy – which-by doing-so… would burst the ‘grand-illusion’ bubble of their-belief.

Paul cycled and he read the placards-which they waited and held in their hands – with their various well-meaning and holistic messages…

… of gratitude… and prayers of longevity, in their various beliefs-and-faiths – that he lived more years to come as in forever…

-O-

Paul approached the main-gate of SHS, where there was a police-sentry guarding the entry, on the side of the school…

… his heart-pounded hard… on seeing the uniformed-enforcers, among the many people gathered at the gateway. They were required to authenticate their student-ID for admittance, and the police-officers were through in their duty, as they were conducting tight-security measures, at the check-point.

He was on his racing-bike, behind Subaru where the cops were ‘processing’ the vehicle – Paul had his student-ID, as a keychain-tag to his backpack. He was looking-on the commotions of some protesting ex-graduates-youths, who were barred from gate-crashing, into their former-school compound.

The gate opened, and the Sube drove-in… the gate closed again…

… it came to his turn, and a uniformed officer came to him…

Paul almost had a heart attack, as he recognized him – as Officer Corporal Frank Smithy, of his-Perth, the one who had arrested him, in the zoo-rescue-Samuel-incident, when he got caught in his wheelchair, inside the primate enclosure.

It was a blessing that ‘Smithy’ of this-Perthland, and did ‘not’ recognize him – but was concerned instead, of seeing him panting-hard, and sweating all-over…

“You alright-mate?”

Paul nodded, showing him – his student-ID…

“Yes-Sir… a long-ride over…”

“Go-drink some water-there, boy – the arvo-sun’s a killer… above 40 today…”

Paul nodded obediently – the main-gate opened and he cycled in and saw some policemen were dragging 2 young female paparazzi over, who have posed as students, using fake-IDs.

He reached the school’s car park where there were many vehicles parked, with students who were arriving and gathering at front of the building. They were best-dressed for the grand-occasion – who many were entering the school’s entrance, walking in the red-carpet, while others were taking selfies – and were waiting for the arrival of the visitors.

Paul noticed 3 catering-vans also parked close. It bore the logo “Marciano’s’ – and it brought memories to him of the same restaurant, where his mother brought him and Peter, whenever they had to celebrate any big-Walkers’ occasions…

‘… would my-Last Supper be Italian…?’

There was a lot of armed-police personnel on-duty, which made Paul even-more nervous… and he rode his bike-away, to the side entrance, where there was a bicycle parking-bay for mainly-junior students… where-nearby was the teachers’ car parking-lot. He got-off the racing-bike – and immediately noticed…

… teen Alicia's platinum-hair, sticking-out in the group of Asian students, congregating on their big-motorcycles.

The Asian were laughing into their conversation, as Paul approached… he could walk back to the main entrance, to avoid the Chinese, but Paul didn’t… he wanted to use the side-exit.

… he wanted to pick-a-bone with them-too… in a good way… as he got nothing-to-lose, as he was a ‘gonner,’ by tonight’s would-be police arrest. There was a score of them, mainly martial-art students, but Paul was ‘not’ intimidated by their numbers… as he wanted to ‘dared’ them…

One of them noticed the sweaty-tee-shirt Paul nearing, and alerted the group in Chinese… and instantly they stopped talking and glared-at him approaching. Paul noticed a White-girl, in the mix… probably was dating one-of the Asian.

They hissed in Mandarin to coerce, their solo-foe – but Paul was boldly nearing the pack, with a cynical-smile, and he greeted them…

“G’ day mates, G’day Alicia… a hot weather today, yea – what did your fortune-cookie predict today… is it gonna rain…?”

An angered, K-pop spiked-haired Ken Chan, who was Alicia’s boyfriend… confronted him, with another 2-boys as back-up, who were also slighting at his rear. But at the same time, a car pulled over, at the teachers’ car park…

… Vice-Principle Tom Harris came out from the side-entrance, and he approached the car… and by then, all of the Chinese students dispersed from the scene… except for Paul.

… he saw a woman alighting from the black Hyundai Santa-Fe, and the VP greeted her with a kiss. They held hands, and both passed-by Paul, and disappeared into the side-entrance-door…

Paul recognized her – as Gloria Harris, as he had-seen her-before in the obituary-section in the newspapers, IN HIS-PERTH… when the divorced wife of his ‘principle,’ who had suddenly-died back-there... with alcoholism related-illness. And, since her ‘passing-away,’ the widower Tom Harris HAD BEEN ‘DATING’ his widow-mom, Caroline Walker…

‘… okay, they are Mr & Mrs OVER-HERE… BUT IS he still ‘dating’ Mom over-there…?’

By now, Paul had a good-stomach, as he was used to seeing ‘dead-people-walking’ after 4 days, in this altered-reality. But he had other bigger-fishes-to fry – the most pressing-one was the ugly-crime of the massacre of the zoo’s monkeys, by the group he was indirectly involved… and that, truly turned-his-stomach…

‘… where are you, Jane…?’

<><>

THE SILVER LAMBORGHINI BRAKED in front of the Wilsons… it revved a couple of times. Douglas Zimmerman dressed sharply in a tuxedo, alighted his sportscar and decided to collect his girlfriend, at her doorstep. He rang the doorbell, with a stalk-of red-rose in-hand…

Dr Shelley Wilson greeted him at the door before –she yelled-up her daughter’s name saying that her date-was here… but got-no response, from upstairs. The embarrassed mother hurried her son, who was polishing his shoes at the kitchen…

“Samuel, go get your sister upstairs, to come down… tell-her Douglas is waiting downstairs.”

She apologized to her young-visitor, for her children's tardiness…

“Samuel! Did you hear-me!!? Go-get Jane to come-down!”

From the back, her son replied…

“I’ve already ‘texted’ her phone, Mummy…”

“No, you go knock on her room-door now… quick… hurry-now…”

The sulking Black-tween walked barefooted up-the-stairs…

“… who knock-on doors these-days… we text…”

Upstairs, Samuel pounded on the door…

“Oii-Sis… your boyfriend is here… Hurry-it-up, in there!”

There was no-response… and the brother further knocked, with his mother also calling her name, from downstairs, with Dougie looking-on.

“Hey-Sis, are you bloody deaf!!”

Samuel continued pounding the door – by then the anxious mother too stepped to go-upstairs. Shelley was midway… when Jane’s door opened-wide ajar, and the irked blonde teenager came out, and yelled at them…

“What!!? Why are you all so-excited, and come-knocking-on my bloody-door like it’s the end-of-the-world!”

“Douglas is here, how long-you have him waiting?” Shelley too yelled.

“So-what, Mummy – let him wait, till the cows come home!”

Shelley looked at Douglas and apologized to him, for her daughter’s unruly behaviour. She looked up at Jane, coming down-the-stairs, who was in her sports-wear and was carrying a gym-duffel bag.

“Jane, why are ‘not’ wearing your new dress?”

Moments-ago, Shelley had intended to take a photo, in her Huawei… of her-Jane in her black spaghetti-strap dress, with her beau in his sharp-black tuxedo, of the evening – as the ‘perfect’ blonde-couple, who were to go dancing.

“Hey, I’m going on-stage later to receive a tennis award – and, Coach Jonah to be in my sports-uniform, Mummy… I’ll only-wear your-revealing new-dress later at the ball… with everyone likely-ogling, with their tongue hanging-out to their-knees… seeing my big-tatas, which I proudly inherited from you!” Jane bickered…

“You watch your-mouth and words, Jane-Wilson – you are embarrassing yourself, and you are embarrassing-me when you-say ‘things’ such as that…”

“Sis, you’re so-rowdy…”

Coming from behind, Samuel was laughing aloud at his ‘family-drama’ – even Douglas the bashful-visitor chuckled to himself, as he was used to his girlfriend’s boisterous remarks when she was rubbed-the-wrong-way… and-even his strong-woman mother-too, have ‘those’ similar qualities.

Douglas handed the stalk of rose, to her…

“What’s this…?”

Jane smacked the stalk on his head, petals flew all-over… Shelley was shocked and shaken –and saw her bit on flower stalk…

“I’ll save the ‘rest,’ when we go-dance the tango… now-take my-bag to the car…”

The mother saw the boyfriend obediently, carrying out her daughter's command…

“Jane, HOW COULD-YOU? Do you know ‘who’ he is?”

“Hah! Who-cares who-he is! By-the-way, he’s ‘used’ to it…”

Jane saw his brother, listening…

“What about you, Sam – how you going to school?”

“Mummy is sending me later…”

“No-kiddo, it’s her day-off… let her, and her tatas get some-rest for the evening… you-get into the car with me and Dougie…”

“Really? I can come with you?”

“Yeahh, that’s what I said… unless you wanna fly Air-Kenya over…”

The excited, Samuel picked-up his gear and dashed to the sportscar. Shelley whispered…

“… have you taken your meds… you are being over-hyper…”

Jane ignored her mother and asked…

“Where is Daddy?”

“Gone to town, he has some errands to run… why?”

Jane hugged her mother and kissed both her cheeks…

“Tell him that his daughter is going dancing, and be-back home late tonight… and you-my Mummy dearest, I’LL LEAVE YOU BOTH, ALONE… you-call daddy to come-home right-away… and-you guys make me a ‘baby-sister,’ okay…?”

Jane walked away, with her mother laughing behind her– she then-threw the stalk with a few rose petals, down-at the lawn… and got into the car, with the boys.

<>

HE WALKED AROUND THE HALLWAY OF SHS, finding for Jane, among stranger-of-students of this-realm. Everyone was walking-ahead to the direction, of west-wing of the school, where the main event was to be held in the gymnasium.

Paul saw more police-security inside the building, as a stringent security measure to protect their asset – who was the world-leader of the financial-sector as a trillionaire. But their presence was making him nervous and he did ‘not’ make eye-contact… but ‘felt’ they were staring-at-him, of the suspicion-crime he was ‘involved’ at the zoo’s primate-killing.

He was really-thirsty too… after cycling 18 kilometres, in the humid weather, to get here. He felt chilly under the air-cond, still wearing a sweaty t-shirt. Paul saw the canteen with the doors-closed, with 3 police-on duty… where he wanted to have-drink. But he was turn-away, as Marciano-catering was using the canteen, for the 'prep-station' of the birthday event.

On his-way to the west-wing, Paul observed that classrooms were closed, with no-student access-too – with more police-surveillances on the upper-floors. The coppers were also using sniffer-dogs in their patrolling.

As he approached nearer to the noisy-vicinity in the west-wing, with the rest of the excited, dressed-up students. Paul noticed that SHS had spent a hefty-budget for the grand-occasion, by hiring an outside event-management agency to handle occasion’s decoration-overall and producing students’ door-gifts. He saw many students were handed-out gift-bags, that was the same colour, of their SHS’s dark-green uniform.

Paul stood-in line, to collect his-gift bag, among cologne-and-perfumed smelling-students… who had stood steps-away from him, holding their noses, whispering to themselves of his BO…

-O-

Before long, he was in an open-space, brightly-lighted gym with over 100 round-tables, set-on the basketball court, with both of the basketball posts removed. Pop-music was playing on the speakers when Paul wandered, in search of water-to-drink. There were about more-than 500 chattering teen-and-tween students there, and class-teachers who were there to coordinate-them to their seats, at the tables. Another 500 students were either outside the building – or have ‘not’ reached the school…

… as they were on-the-way, like-Jane…

He approached the nearer round-table, with maroon-coloured table-cloth – and saw it was set with dinner-plates, cutleries, glass-goblets and small-water bottles, with a non-alcoholic wine to-toast at the birthday-bash. Paul looked around… no-one was looking…

… he ‘nicked’ a drinking-water bottle. He drank it, as he meandered among the students. Paul was still thirsty, as he finished the drink… he put the empty plastic-bottle into his-pants-pocket – went on to another table, and he pinched his 2nd bottle…

“…Paul… Paul Walker…”

He turn-around when he heard his name-called… hiding the stolen water-bottle, behind his back – to face his Science-teacher, Mrs Trudie Moore, who was also his class-teacher… holding a clipboard, to mark student’s attendance.

“Your table is over there… follow me.”

They arrived at an empty table with name-cards of students. Mrs Moore left, and Paul sat ‘alone’ at his respective-spot… and was delighted to discover that the name-card, of-who was seated next to him, on HIS-RIGHT WAS JANE. He was ‘not’ pleased when he saw ‘Douglas Zimmerman’ was seated at the ‘same’ table, on Jane’s-right…

There was a deja-vu of him-recalling the sitting arrangement, at John Blake’s Country-club… during the tennis match's post-buffet, after the PFC’s v ex-internationals, in his-Perth – where Dougie sat with Jane and Alicia… with him, a ‘nobody’ in his wheelchair… seated-afar, at their rear… seeing them were having a good time, while he brewed-in-jealousy…

‘… hey… Dougie isn’t in ‘our’ class… what’s he doing here…? Did that no-good rich-kid, bribe himself, to sit beside Jane?’

Paul sat alone as he brewed, feeling star-crossed…

… after drinking 2 bottles of water, he needed to pee… he got off his seat and headed to the exit, where more dressed-up excited students were crowding, into go to the gymnasium. It reminded him of the Perth crowd, of his-world, who were also heading to the gym…

… there were more than 5000 of them, who-drone over-and gate-crashed when they wanted to support – the ‘Perth’s Famous Couple,’ who gave a rematch ‘showdown,’ by playing against their YouTube-foes – Dougie-and-Zoe…

… it was also the same-day, THE SHOOTING OF SHS HAD HAPPENED – where the criminal, Perth’s Most-Wanted-Hajji came into the school’s gym, to terrorize… but luck was ‘not’ his-side… when he was foiled-and-defeated, by the hero-dogs…

… and the furry-dynamic-duo killed him…

But he recalled 5 people suffered from gun-shot injuries, that tragic day and were hospitalised – Paul was sure-right, that WOULD ‘NOT’ HAPPEN this evening, judging by the tight-police security that made SHS – into a formidable-fortress, inside-and-out… if there was an attempt by a-similar-version of Hajji, of this-world.

-O-

Paul was about to enter the Boys’ toilet-room when he heard a faint sound of distant-siren… outside the building…

‘… the ‘visitors’ are here – where are you-Jane…?’

<>

THE LAMBORGHINI SPED WITH SAMUEL asking a lot of questions to Dougie, about his new luxury Italian sportscar’s specs. Jane was quiet the entire journey to school as she had no interest in the boys’-talks about-cars – as she was pondering over…

… the imperative SeeIn’s message, from last night, in the Dreamworld.

The tween-Samuel went-about saying that, if his rapper-dreams don’t pan-out, he wanted to drive an F1 race-car like Lewis Hamilton. The teen-Dougie told his ambition of working in his father’s mining industry business after graduating…

… back in her-Perth, the tween-Blind-Jane had a great ambition of becoming a scientist… but today, although she had the gift of sight, teen-Jane could ‘not’ read-nor-write, and was ‘trapped’ in this Perthland-realm – where her bright-future over-here, was dictated by a possibility of marrying-into-money…

… Jane DOESN’T LIKE THAT, one-bit…

Dougie saw his-girlfriend sitting in quiet-and-reserve, the entire time…

“Jane-are you alright… why are you so quiet?”

“Dougie, you should see her dress that Mummy bought for her – she looks like a million dollars in it.” Piped her brother, at the backseat, with compliments.

“Yes. Mrs Wilson told that just-now… hey, did you bring the necklace to go with it, Jane?”

Jane snapped at him…

“Why you ask? Do you WANT IT BACK!!?”

“Hey-no… just asking, come-on… it’s no big deal, Jane…” the now-concerned boyfriend had-responded… to the provoked girl, to pacify her.

“What if I don’t wear it tonight? Will you complain to your mummy, once you go-home… you bloody-mummy’s boy!”

“Hoi-Sis, you are out of line here… HE WAS JUST ‘ASKING’ – there is no need, to go bat-shit and attack him!”

“You shut-up back there, Jaheem, it is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS… of what I talk, and say!”

‘…who are you, to tell me off… you are JUST A 2-YEAR OLD, from where I come from...?’

“You have a serious attitude problem, Sis – have YOU TAKEN YOUR MEDS TODAY!!?”

“Shut-up, you-kiddo – who GAVE YOU THE BLOODY-RIGHT, to ask me that!!?”

The nervous Douglas Zimmerman saw the Wilson siblings were at each-others throat, and he decelerated his speed…

“Whoa, STOP FIGHTING you-2… Jane, I’m sorry if I had provoked you… can we-all make-peace, and go to school?”

“Dougie, you of-all person, don’t have to say sorry to her – WHEN ITS ‘NOT’ YOUR FAULT!” Said the Samuel, in spite.

In tears, Jane did ‘not’ respond, to further-argue, and was back-quiet…

… recalling that…

… she had taken her depression-meds just-now – but some-how, it was ‘not’ working all-day… after her pondering deep-into the MAGNITUDE OF SEEIN’S WARNING MESSAGE… and the cause-of-action, that was-to follow…

… Dougie pulled a couple of tissues from the box, and gave to her… he held her free-hand, on the rest of the journey, to calm her down…

-O-

Soon the sportscar was at the main gate of the school – and they were 2 cars behind the police-security, who were processing the entry of the vehicle to the SHS-car park. There was a commotion going-on…

… with an unruly crowd outside the school, who wanted to gate-crash – but momentarily, the riot-police were keeping them at-bay. As they were chanting aloud…

“LET-US-IN… LET-US-IN!”

Before long, it was their turn. The Lamborghini power-window was down, Dougie showed his Student-ID to Corporal Smithy, who was the gate-keeper. The officer saw at the Black-tween also producing his identification-card, while his sister was ruminating for hers, in the duffle-bag…

“Dougie… I forgot to bring my-ID…”

Both the boys in the car were horrified…

“What-Sis… are you kidding me…you forgot it, of all days-today!!?”

At the same time, there was a police-car siren accompanying a limousine was approaching. The sportscar was OBSTRUCTING THEIR ENTRY… they had to open the other half of the main-gate, for the visitors to enter… the limousine halted juxtaposing, at-the sportscar’s window – while its own dark-window slide-down… Peter’s head popped out…

“Officer, what seems to be the problem?”

“The-girl had forgotten to bring her-ID…”

Peter looked at Jane Wilson at the passengers-seat, with Douglas Zimmerman at the wheel…

“Let them through… SHE IS MY EX-GIRLFRIEND…”

“Thanks-Peter…” Said Dougie immediately, and Peter acknowledged with a tacit-nod.

Photographers from the news-media rushed to the limo-window, as cameras were snapping shots of the ‘Perthland’s Famous Couple’…

“Peterr! Close the bloody-window… I hate paparazzi!” Said a whining female voice, from inside the town-car.

Douglas steered his car, and followed the limo to the parking-lot but was ‘not’ allowed to the VVIP-space. The school’s security guards diverted them to the common-parking space. In the sportscar, they saw hundreds of screaming starstruck-students were rushing-over to the limo, like it was the arrival of rock-celebrities – with the stationed duty-police officers and school guards, buffering them-away, from crushing the ‘visitors.’

Jane in her tennis-sports uniform, got out of the car seeing ahead of the crowd hailing at the couple alighting the limo – Peter was wearing a tuxedo-too, like Dougie… he put his hand-in, and guided-out, Jezebel, from the backseat… who wore a red-haired wig, over her elegant gold-gown of glittering sequin, with a sexy-slit. Everyone roared when they saw her together with Peter, and phone-camera flashed… as they both walked the red carpet, waving back…

“PFC – We-love-you! PFC – We love-you! PFC – We love you!”

Jane Wilson was truly amazed how ‘lucky,’ Peter was in this realm, to hook-up with such a ‘celebrity-from-UK,’ who happened to be the grand-niece of SHS founding-father…

… it seemed like Peter had sowed his PFC-seeds in her-Perth… and was reaping the harvest of his-catch, in his Perthland-crossover... she was GLAD IT WAS ‘NOT’ HER, in this realm… but Jezebel.

… like how Jane had the mental-anguish and breakdown, where Peter had demanded her blind-self to jump-hoops, FOR HIS ‘PFC-BRAND’ back in ‘Perth’ – in his selfish and self-serving ego-and-masterplan, by her sacrificing her ‘own’ study-time to comply to-his, against her own will…

… as-Jane had served-her ‘time’ – and, NOW IT’S JEZEBEL’S TURN – because Peter will never change his ‘spots’… maybe she would dump him eventually… like she did-herself, in her-Perth…

‘… good luck to you, Peter…’

<>

BACK IN THE GYMNASIUM, PAUL WAS ‘lost’ – when he heard the siren of the visitors’ arrival… and JANE WAS ‘NOT’ THERE, at the venue yet. Everyone was a stranger to him in this Perthland-realm, who were ‘not’ the same-faces of students from his-Perth.

He then saw someone he recognized, that stuck-out because of her-complexion – it was Akatendeka, who was Samuel’s girlfriend… although she was ‘not’ friendly with him the first-time, on-Thursday… but Paul approached her any-way…

He came within reach of her table, where she was with her tween-girlfriends…

“Hi-Aka, did Samuel call you?”

“Hey-you, you get away-now from me and my friends, you girl-molester… or-else I call the teacher on you!”

He saw the disgust-looks, on each of her-girlfriends, when she dissed him, publicly… Paul sighed and walked away… hearing them giggle, behind him.

Paul went back to his empty table and sat – and hearing distant chants approaching the gym, that got everyone around thrilled, and they rushed to the entrance-door, despite the anxious class-teachers’ cautioning them to remain, at their respective tables.

… Paul saw Akatendeka and her friends, who disobediently ran with the pack of excited-students…

From his table, at the middle-of-the basketball court, he witnessed 4 bodyguards, police personnel and school-guards were warding-off the rushing fans of ‘Perthland’s Famous Couple,’ from both inside and outside the gym. Finally, Jezebel and Peter walked-up and were seated at the main table on the makeshift stage, together-with the principle and vice-principle and their spouses.

Every-student were cheering and chanting…

“PFC – We-love-you! Jezebel – We love-you! PFC – We love you!”

Principle Burnell on a bullhorn dispersed the unruly crowd, who were gathering below the stage and… everyone returned to their own-table – and that was where PAUL SAW JANE – with Samuel and Dougie, who were approaching-over...

“Jane…!” Paul called.

Jane ran, and hugged him…

… a bad-optic for the glaring disgruntled – boyfriend-and-younger-brother… seeing Jane’s erratic behaviour – Douglas sat at the table, while Samuel went over to the tween-section, to-be with his girlfriend, Akatendeka Ibori.

Soon, 7 of Dougie’s rich-friends joined him… including Zoe Williams. The hateful-eyes of 8 were all staring at Jane-and-Paul, standing away from the table, into their personal-conversation. They were stumped that PAUL WALKER WAS-ALSO SITTING with them, at the round-table… of-which Douglas Zimmerman had ‘paid-off’ the peon, Muthoo Ganesan’s ‘arrangement’ – to include Jane Wilson and Zoe Williams to be in ‘their’ class-table…

… but CERTAINLY, ‘NOT’ Paul Walker…

… it baffled and mystified Dougie even-till today of Paul’s presence, in their ‘private’ opulent-table… but-was ‘not’ aware of unknowing-the mystical forces behind it, as all-day long – Jane had prayed…

… to her Mother-of-Virgos, that Paul WOULD-BE-CLOSE with her.

-O-

It was already 7:21 PM… and the opening ceremony of the 131st celebration, scheduled at 7-sharp was ‘not’ went as-scheduled… due-to Lord Stamford was ‘not’ there, in-the-flesh… as he hasn’t arrived yet, to officiate the occasion…

… but everyone was forgiving of their Founding-Father of SHS unpunctuality … due to his age and busy schedules, of his philanthropy-duties, as he had assisted Perthland’s economy, earlier this morning.

The national-TV media-invited for the evening too understood.

Everyone was meandering in the gym, hopping tables and soon it was like a noisy busy-marketplace. The hateful-8 were still shooting-evil eyes at Jane-and-Paul, from their table.

Over-on the stage, Peter saw his twin in the crowd, talking with his-ex… and somehow, he felt resentful, envious and bitter… of their-strong ‘relationship,’ because over in-his-Perth, Jane-Wilson was his original-PFC…

… his first-love…

-O-

After 15-minutes, Jane and Paul joined the table – Paul felt like ‘a fish-out-of-water,’ as he was underdressed, ‘not’ in a tuxedo, like the rest. Furthermore, Dougie and Zoe had diverted Jane into ‘their’ conversation… and isolating Paul, to be an unwanted-member at the table.

Peter too felt neglected in the main-table because Jezebel – was in chatting with the principle, VP and their spouses…

… but he was also under the influence of Gochi, where he was in-the-world of-his ‘own’… in planning and plotting his-NEXT-BIG MOVES OF HIS ‘FUTURE,’ with Jezebel Crowley.

At around 7:33 PM, trumpet sounds were played in the stereo-system, with drum-rolls…

Marciano, who was the caterer, made a grand entrance – and he led 4 of his kitchen-crew, who were carrying a 100-pound huge birthday-cake on horizontal-poles, towards the elevated-stage. All students in the gym were excited and cheered in delight seeing the cake…

… and at the same time, Peter distracted Jezebel’s dialogue, as he too was equally thrilled and animated, pointing at the moustached-Marciano…

“Look, Belle – it’s Mario!”

Peter stood up, and took a video of the cake carried on-stage. He saw a ‘familiar’ face, of an Aboriginal-young man among the crew, who were setting up the big-cake, for the grand-occasion. He approached him and ‘stuck’ the recording-phone video close to his face, asking…

“Hi-mate, you still don’t get the ‘3-dogs-night’ joke, do ya?”

It puzzled the youth who was speechless before he joined the rest of the crew, who got off the stage… Peter was chuckling-hard before he came back to the main table.

“What was that all about?” Jezebel enquired, as he sat-down.

“… nah, you won’t get it ‘too’… it’s a running joke…”

He laughed and slapped his thigh…

“… even the-Kohen didn’t get it… it’s soo-funny, that I gotta pee-now…”

He got-up again… and bent-down and kissed her lips, and-also winked… at the staring principle and VP…

“… see you in a bit, Belle… go-on with your-chinwag…”

... Peter walked down the stage, to go to the Boy’s room… Ian McNelly, the bodyguard followed him, a moment later…

Paul noticed his-twin leaving the main-table, and was alighting to the floor – and he FOLLOWED HIM.

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PETER WAS IN PAIN WHILE HE URINATED. His private-part was bruised, after too many rough-fornications, at the hotel. Some teenager-boys were in the toilet-too, but they DID ‘NOT’ ACKNOWLEDGE him – as they were envious of him…

… to be their ‘dream-girl’ Jezebel’s mate-choice… as-in the acclaimed media-PFC sensation-couple, that they ‘only’ get-to read-about in social-media… and ‘nothing’ more beyond-that…

… that was the ‘SAME’ REASON, the lovestruck-and-heartbroken Terry Donovan, did ‘NOT’ EVEN ATTEND the celebration tonight.

“Peter, can I talk to you?”

“What!!?”

Without even turning his head, he recognized the whiny-voice of his-twin… as the group of boys, had-already left, earlier.

“The Dicksons have invited you, for Easter-Sunday lunch…”

“No thank you, I’m ‘not’ coming – ‘why?’ because… those people would-trap me, to take a drug-test to put me away. They ‘both’ are jealous of me – and even-you-Poe – you are jealous-too – of ‘what’ I’m ‘made-person’ today in Perthland… with the respect that I get, and get-treated as a VVIP as my new-PFC fame, and also-staying today at a high-class luxury hotel, instead of you-all’s shitty run-down house.”

“… but Pete, don’t be a fool – all of THESE ARE ‘NOT’ REAL…”

“Shut-up, it’s real’ to me, although… ‘ONLY’ WITH MY-DREAM of being a millionaire, in-my-shorts in-playing tennis had ‘failed’… all-because your bloody-girlfriend had ‘stolen’ my tennis-playing talent… BUT THE ‘REST’ OF IT, IS REAL!”

“NO, IT’S ‘NOT’ – YOU ARE STILL POSSESSED’ even though, we had fought-hard, to exorcize-you in Egypt, by ‘destroying’ your ‘blood-vial’… but… there is a demon-incubus, that is ‘inside’ you and still controlling you… and I believe that IT IS ASMODEUS DOING… to claim your body-and-blood, like his!”

“Hah! Look at-you, still scaring me with your silly boogie-man-Asmo nonsense… like he is even bloody-real! Grow-up, Poe, you are ‘not’ a tween any-more – bloody know, what is reality and what is fantasy, okay… haven’t your-mother-in-Perth ‘not’ taught you so!!?”

“So-you think, by-overnight growing-up… in these teenager bodies are ‘real,’ you fool? Please-cooperate, Peter – let us help you before it’s too late…”

“NO, I don’t need any of your help!”

“Peter-you have already done enough damages in this-world – and, Mercury even-said to-us, you have crossed dimensions… and killed Dad, for a 2nd-time…”

“Shut-up, I DID ‘NOT’ KILL MY FATHER, not-once-not-twice… and you don’t go around with those kinds of bloody-talks, behind my-back – and damage-my reputation, over here with fake news!”

The bodyguard entered the Boy’s room, at the precise moment…

“… everything alright, Mr Walker…?”

The still-irked, Peter washed his-hands at the sink…

“Yea-Ian… all is good… except for my immature crazy-brother here, who hasn’t grown-up… is-still talking his-nonsense…”

Ian McNelly glared at Paul, before he accompanied his-twin, back to the main table.

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JANE SAW PAUL RETURNING TO THE TABLE, with his head down – she had got the vibe, that what they had ‘privately’ discussed-earlier had ‘not’ gone-to plan, with Peter’s stubborn attitude OF SELF-DENIAL. Paul sat hard-at his seat, with a deep sigh. Jane held his hand, under the table, while the rich teenagers at the table, were engaged with the trivial conversation.

Then at 7:58 PM, everyone in the auditorium HEARD THE DISTANT SIREN, outside the building. Every student and teacher, were on their feet, roared and cheered in total-ecstasy, that the Founding-Father was arriving.

Both Jane and Paul were astounded that everyone was having a unison herd behaviour of trance-like emotional experience, with their pre-welcome chant, banging the table with their palms rhythmically, and stomping feet in the floor…

“Lord Stamford, We Love You… Lord Stamford, We Love You… Lord Stamford, We Love You…!!!”

Paul noticed many students and teachers broke-down in tears, hugging each other in a state-of-euphoria. Some-even fainted, and dropped on the floor…

… Jane saw Zoe in tears was hugging Dougie, and so were the other erratic-raptured rich-teens, in the table were dancing in-joy. She looked across to the junior-tweens’ tables at her younger brother, Samuel-Jaheem, who hugged his girlfriend-Akatendeka, and kissing-her…

The elation in the auditorium continued for the next 2-minutes… and the decibel went-off a few notch-higher when they-all saw the wheelchair – by then, EVERYONE WAS IN TOTAL- EXULTATION…

… Jane and Paul saw the Head-Nurse was pushing a very old man in a pure-white robe, on his-wheelchair. His pale-robe under the gym-lights were reflecting bright and anaemic, if though it was heavenly – and, everyone witnessed the arrival of a saint…

Todd Sweeney and a fellow-bodyguard heaved the old man's wheelchair, above 3-steps, to the main stage. The Head Nurse gave 2 elbow-braces to him…

… and the 154-year-old Founding-Father stood-up, by himself to his feet, with everyone roaring in encouragement, as – Lord Stamford used the ‘2-sticks,’ in-his unsteadily-steps, made his way to the podium.

The tall-statured old-man was panting-slightly when he reached the dais. He had a shoulder-length long strand of a few-white-hairs, remaining in his-crown, and he smiled-wide with his porcelain-white teeth – before he held up his hand, to everyone to stop cheering…

… in a crackling voice, he said…

“Greetings my beloved student and teachers… it’s good to be back… to see you all again, in Perthland…”

… everyone was back cheering… the National-TV cameras rolled… as he solemnly spoke again…

“… I’ve grown too-old… I feel my time is up… to give-up the ghost, to be with my maker… please make me proud… and uphold my values to help mankind… until then, remember me… always in your prayers…”

Some in the crowd protested…

“No! You will ‘NOT’ DIE – you will LIVE FOREVER!”

The sombre, Lord Stamford flashed a sad-smile, and raised his hand, to ‘bless’ everyone… they clapped reluctantly as he went away from the podium. Marciano-the-caterer had lighted the 131-candles on the cake, and everyone sang in-enthusiasm, the school’s anthem…

… it followed by the Happy-Birthday song, where Lord Stamford stood in front of the huge cake, surrounded by the principle, the VP and their spouses, Jezebel and Peter – who-all blew the many-candles, when the song-ended, with the crowd, gathered below the stage, cheering.

Lord Stamford cut the cake… and they toasted eating-cake with wine.

“Long-live Lord Stamford!”

-O-

The celebration proceeded, with a fine-dining-menu dinner served, with choices of Osso Bucco, braised-veal shank… Lombata Milanese, breaded-veal chops in truffle oil… and, Risotto Aragosta, lobster-meat with mascarpone cheese…

… and, for dessert was gelato-Spumoni, a 3 colour-and-floured ice-cream, with candied-fruits and nuts.

Paul-the-foodie, whacked-his platter-clean… but beside him, was the-quiet-Jane, who was pondering between eating, that she ‘HAD’ HEARD-AND-RECOGNIZED, the distinct-voice of Lord Stamford, from ‘somewhere’ before…

… but can’t place, WHERE SHE HAD-heard it…

-O-

It was 9:13 PM when they finished their dinner – the SHS student-committee had set-up the Student-awards presentation of the top education-related students, from the junior to the seniors – Akatendeka won for top over-all academic achievements, for middle-school…

… while the top-Girl of the seniors was Charlotte Thompson… who came to the stage to receive, their awards from Lord Stamford, seated in his wheelchair…

… the platinum-blonde Alicia Wong received Top-Math student-award and also, Ms Constance Bloom won the SHS’ Outstanding-teacher, for her teaching Mathematics.

Principle Burnell next announced the school’s Sports-grouping – Bruce Bronson the SHS’ Cricket-captain, who had won in the Boys’-category. He was a ‘popular’ student, and went on stage with his cricket-bat…

The crowd went wild, chanting…

“BB… BB… BB!”

Bruce received his accolade from the Founding Father… remained on-stage as he lifted-up the trophy, at the same-time blew-a-kiss to Charlotte Thompson, who was his girlfriend.

The last-award for the ceremony was the Girls’-category. Principal Burnell announced Jane Wilson’s name – the blonde, dreadlock-haired-girl in her tennis uniform-skirt, walked-up the stage, holding her Wilson-racquet…

…as she walked-over to the stage, a table-of-Chinese senior students were booing at her as, she had beaten Alicia Wong, to get the prominent recognition.

… but the rest of students gave an-equal reception of cheering out-loud, to her – except for Peter, who was brooding that JANE HAD ‘TAKEN’ his talent-away, in this realm… as he was the rightful ‘one’ who should-be taking the Boys’ award, and ‘not’ BB…

Paul and Dougie were cheering at the table, while watching ‘their’ Jane, approaching Lord Stamford in-the-wheelchair, on the stage…

… the old-man shook her hand, and awarded the trophy – BUT HE REFUSED TO LET IT GO… Jane saw him grinning sly-and-dirty… also, winking at her like a paedophile…

… the students were amused that the cheeky-old-man was teasing-and-toying with Jane… until the Head-Nurse came in-from the rear, to caution her employer…

“Sir… give-it to her…”

… Jane even recognized THE WOMAN’S VOICE, from ‘somewhere’ before…

Lord Stamford-then TELEPATHICALLY SPOKE, into Jane’s mind…before releasing his grip from the trophy…

“O-Blind-one, we meet again… the last-time, you had escaped from-me… before I can ‘taste’ you, as my bride…”

… Jane was horrified when she ‘heard’ that inside her-head… her immediate response was, FIGHT-OR-FLIGHT… she could have hit the old-man’s head-hard with her racquet but she did ‘not’ … and-instead, ran-down the stage, holding her racquet-and-trophy…

Paul saw her running in the aisle, of the tables with laughing students… even Dougie and his rich friend were amused. Jane reached their-table and slammed the award and racquet on it, and-she PULLED PAUL’S HAND, to follow-her…

… now, Dougie and Zoe stopped laughing, and they both looked at each other, of ‘where’ the 2 of them going…