It was nearing dinner time and nearly everyone had abandoned the office of the Oracle in favor of playing video games, doing their homework or just getting ready for dinner. Except for Kent, who was still diligently typing away at his desk. Aktamun had seen him when he had come in for his meeting with the editor-in-chief and the faculty advisor, thinking that he might like the quiet to work. Really, when Aktamun had entered and had said hi, Kent had not even heard him.
Kent had to definitely hear Aktamun when he left the office again. He had his arms in the air when he jumped out of the door. Sure, Aktamun's desire to be on the Oracle was fairly recent and had mostly stemmed from the fact that journalism, in some shapes of forms, could be disruptive of the establishment. The Arab Spring. Watergate and Deep Throat. Buzzfeed. All excellent examples of what a reporters could achieve. He had written an article about underground culture in Egypt and the way they used dance and hacktivism to express their freedoms, drawing from his own experiences and using stuff he had found online. The editor had called it a little unfocused, but definitely good enough to get in. He got in!
He bounded towards Kent and wrapped his arms around the other boy. "I got in!"