Straight Up Kind Of Girl

Hannah has three missed calls, and a voice mail message, all from Agent Booth, when she turns her phone back on after class. The message is a little ominious in its brevity -- Hey, kiddo, call me when you get this, okay? Whenever that is. Or maybe it's ominious in that for all he's clearly trying to sound light and neutral, Hannah can hear in Agent Booth's voice that whatever he wants her to call him about is going to fall into the category of Not Good.

She doesn't even bother going back to her room to drop her things, just calls him on her way to the Metro station. She's not surprised when he asks her to meet him, as soon as possible, though she is surprised when he asks her to come to his office. And while it's clear he doesn't want to talk about Whatever This Is over the phone, Hannah's starting to genuinely and truly worry.

The last time someone had news they didn't want to give her over the phone, it was that Agent Booth was dead.

It takes an eternity to get to the Hoover Building, and another eternity to get through security even though they've been told to expect her and had she realized where she was coming she SO would have gone back to the dorm to dump her stupid bag.

Eventually someone shows up to escort her up to Agent Booth's office, and she doesn't know if he's an agent or what, because aside from confirming her identity and asking her to come with him, he doesn't say a damn word. Hannah doesn't know if that means he knows what she's there to talk about and it's so bad that he doesn't know what to say, or if he's assuming that she's some sort of suspect or something and therefore not worth talking to, or if he just has the social skills of a cactus.

"Your visitor's here, Booth," the man says, and leaves Hannah standing in the door to Agent Booth's office.

All in all, it's a pretty uneventful graduation ceremony, by Neptune standards. Which is to say, no one is arrested in the middle of it. (Say what you like about Vinnie Van Lowe, but he knows better than to interrupt the big day of the little darlings of Neptune's Who's Who just to arrest a nobody biker.)

The ceremony itself is, of course, only the beginning of things -- there will be a solid week of parties around Neptune, with a great deal of negotiation between parents to determine who gets Saturday night and who gets stuck with Wednesday afternoon. There's a school sponsored please-don't-get-yourself-killed-on-graduation-night party tonight, but it can't compete with the blow out Amber's throwing, and no one who's anyone is going. Hannah's skipping both (not that she was invited to the latter); she's had plans with Em for graduation for years, and they might even let the boys tag along.

She needs to find her parents (who seem to be doing a halfway decent job of getting along today, much to Hannah's utter relief) but right now there's a brief lull in the hugs and congratulations, and Hannah is taking a moment.

She's survived high school. In Neptune. And she has the diploma to prove it.

Previously . . .


It’s the way high school halls work. One moment, they’re empty, and then a bell rings, and they fill very suddenly with people who have four minutes to get to wherever they’re supposed to be next.

Of course, at Neptune High, getting to your next class is the least of the things to worry about in the hallways between classes – it’s a chance to grab things from your locker, catch teasers on gossip to be shared over lunch, greet friends and shun enemies. There’s a chance, too, you’ll see which couples have gotten together or split up (or at least who’s holding hands in the halls today). You might see a fistfight, or a fellow student being led out of the school in handcuffs.

Hannah’s seen all of those things, at one point or another. But there are certain things you just do not expect to see in the halls of a high school, even if that high school is in Neptune.

This? Would be really high on her list.

“Dr. Brennan? Agent Booth?”

Hannah knows something is up.

Well, duh. Obviously. Escaped serial killer and all. But there’s something more to it than that, she thinks.

Dr. Sayoran had pulled her out of the lab, away from a cheerful, laughing conversation about a newspaper article, about two hours after Dr. Brennan left with Agent Booth. “Sorry,” Dr. Sayoran said, after she’d explained a little about Howard Epps and his escape. “I’m going to need everyone pretty focused right now.”

Hannah had nodded, yawning. (One of the workers renovating the apartment next to Dr. Brennan’s left his radio on last night, and it turns out hip hop is not exactly conducive to sleep.) “It’s okay. I mean, it’s more important and all. And I have a ton of stuff to read.”

Dr. Sayoran left her in the lounge. Two hours later, Dr. Sayoran asks her to gather up her stuff. “I’m going to have you relocate to my office for a bit.”

“Your office? Won’t I be in the way?”

“Not really. And we need the lounge for a bit. Just make yourself comfortable, and if you need anything, ask.”

Hannah’s pretty sure the person she’s supposed to ask if she needs anything is the security guard in the chair outside Dr. Sayoran’s office. She’s also pretty sure that neither the guard nor the chair was there yesterday.

She looks at the next marked article she’s supposed to read, and then closes the journal. “Screw it,” she mutters, and pulls out her laptop.

Fifteen minutes later, she’s skimmed the first four items that Google brings up on Howard Epps.

Something is definitely up.