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Dallas ran from the barn as fast as he could, the clocks in the house told him he was late, so late. He dug his feet into the ground, springing forward so fast it sent his cape sailing backward as if he were flying. The laces on his red Chuck Taylors whipped across his feet. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and withdrew his wand from his suspenders. Falangrus was going to be so mad if he wasn't there precisely at nine o'clock.
Which was five minutes ago.
Dallas burst through the doors of First United Church of Our Blessed Savior's Holy Mountain of Zion Church, and flew past the pews. He tore through the side door and climbed into the baptistry, then slipped through the old wooden door at the end of the room. Up, up, up the winding stairs he went to the bell tower, spider webs clinging to his face as he whipped past them. His heart hammered and sweat ran down his face. He pushed up his glasses again.
He reached the top of the stairs and slammed to a stop. Holy harsh face, batman. Falangrus stood with his arms crossed, his grey robe spilling out at his feet. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his lips pressed so tight together Dallas wondered if God Himself could pry them apart.
Dallas swallowed past the lump in his throat. Why did he always forget? Never, ever make a wizard angry.
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