She’d been in a martial arts class when I’d left for my jog. I’d planned on it just being a quick one. Shaking her head in exasperation, she turned back to face the front.
I tried to pay attention, but the constant droning was sleep-inducing. Right now we were in urban landscape skills class. Module three included camouflage, identifying and containing traps, and some chemical warfare. Important stuff. If only they’d splash out on a teacher who had real life experience or at minimum an actual interest in the subject. I’d been outside the gates more than Mrs Crabbe. If Lucy wasn’t such a good student I wouldn’t have passed a class. I rested my head on my hand and stared aimlessly toward the front. It was going to be a long hour.
Chapter 2
After dinner, Chrissie, a lanky fifteen-year-old with masses of thick brunette waves, cornered me in the hallway. Living up to her goth persona, she was dressed entirely in black.
“Where were you today, Abby?”
We sat on the bottom ledge of the large wooden staircase, just down the hall from the dining room.
“Went for a jog outside the compound.”
It was unusual to spend time chatting with Chrissie; she hated small talk. So I knew there would be a point to this conversation.
She fidgeted a little. “You were gone for a long time. What’s it like out there?”
I shrugged. “It’s fine most of the time, although I’ve had a few scary moments.”
A calculating look crossed her face. “Not this week, Olden’s here, but next time she’s away ... um ... can I come?”
My eyes widened. No one ever wanted to go outside the gates. I couldn’t even get Lucy to run with me. Chrissie was too young to be allowed out on her own; we’d have to sneak.
“Uh, sure. If you really want to.” I wasn’t thrilled to have the responsibility of another person out there. But I was curious and I’d hate to think she’d brave the streets on her own.
Nodding, Chrissie jumped to her feet. “I would very much like to see what’s happening outside the gates. Let me know.”
I nodded as she walked off.
That was strange.
I made my way upstairs to get ready for bed. As an added bonus the delay resulted in an empty third-floor bathroom. The room held an array of toilets, sinks and shower stalls, and with twenty girls currently residing it was rarely unoccupied. I took my time brushing my teeth and washing my face. We had strict water rations, two-minute showers and drop-pit toilets.
Finally clean, I straightened to meet my own green eyes reflected back at me.
As a child I’d been painfully shy, hating any attention. The unique color of my eyes – almost emerald green – and large oval shape assured I received plenty of stares. But now I no longer cared about blending in. I was just grateful I didn’t have the freckles usually accompanying red hair and fair skin.
Although my hair was another anomaly. It fell in curls, not quite ringlets except those shorter tendrils framing my face, to my mid back, and it wasn’t a standard golden red: it was a deep blood red with undertones of black. It was unusual enough that the girls speculated I’d somehow managed to procure hair dye. But that’d been non-existent for many years.
I gave my expression one last grimace, my full, red lips thinning, before I turned to leave the room.
I made my way down the hall to the room I shared with Lucy. She was sprawled across my bed, wearing her favorite purple flannel pajamas. A thick novel lay open in front of her. Her attention never wavered as I stretched out next to her. It took a few minutes before she flicked a page and spoke.
“Are you actually gracing me with your presence, Abigail? To what do I owe such an honor?”
I smirked. “Honestly, Luce, I just felt a need to give something back. You know, to those lesser.”
She raised an eyebrow, flicking across to the next page. “You are going the right way to end up on my list, Abigail.”
My smirk fell. Lucy’s list was not a place you wanted to be. The last girl who got on her bad side ended up with her hair glued to a school desk.
“Sorry, Luce, I was staring at myself in the training mirrors and my butt looked huge. I had no choice. I had to get out for a run.”
Shaking her head, she sighed. “As if your tall lanky butt would ever look big. Try being five foot, Abbs. I look at a picture of a donut and it attaches to my thighs.”
I laughed. Lucy was curvy in all the right places, without an ounce of fat anywhere else.
“Did you have to mention donuts?” My mouth watered. I was eight the last time we had their sugary goodness. But there was no way to forget.
We’d had canned beans and an unidentified rodent stew for dinner. We had learned to never expect junk or fresh food; they were the rarest of all. We didn’t starve, but much of the joy from food was missing.