Oops! My Croissant Started a Coup! | Complete (ONC 2021 Longlister)

15. ... But Up?

I bet you're sitting there now sipping on your coffee in your pyjamas wondering why I didn't try to escape again. And the answer was exceptionally simple: I could no longer feel the toes in my left foot. So running away was quite impossible. Plus, I had a fabulous plan. Really.

So when I was picked up my Lopez — and I do mean picked up as I literally couldn't drag myself off the ground anymore — and carried inside, I was ready.

Now I just have to figure out how not to be defiant. Which is pretty much not in my nature at this point. What happened to the old shy me who used to cower in front of her bosses? I could use her right now.

I looked up at Deep Voice Man from my spot on the ugly bear shaped area rug that adorned the floor and waited for him to say something. But he just took a big drag from his pipe of something that did not seem like tobacco and then returned to reading some type of children's book written in Portuguese, I think.

I guess I get to start, then.

"When will Anderson or whatever get here? I want to speak to someone who I know, please. I know I shouldn't have run but you didn't seem to know who they were. And this whole thing has been kind of scary."

Is that what I should be saying right now? How do you explain running away from people who at least think they have authority?

"We know who they are. And we know who you are." Lopez took a huge bite of some kind of avocado shaped fruit and then looked back at me. "If you hadn't run away you'd be asleep in a warm bed with a nice new set of Pyjamas and your phone charging on the desk. No idea why you're like this, honestly."

It was really hard to stay friendly and ignore the fiery parts inside of me that had been fighting everything for the past... how long had it been even? Two days? But I managed it.

"I know. I said I was sorry. Look, this whole thing has been ridiculous. I mean, they made me break out of jail." Make it look good, Holland. "And I'm not the kind of person who breaks out of jail but I thought if I didn't do it I'd be found out and then I didn't have my phone to contact anyone so I just didn't know what to do and then I had to let myself get captured and—"

I would have continued, too, had Deep Voice Man not waved his hand to dismiss me. "Just get her out of here, will you? I'm sure she knows by now there's no way out and will stay where we put her."

"Wait!" I interrupted. "Wait, I want to go back in. I already got them talking to me and I know I can learn more. You need to let me back before they figure me out! I know I can do this."

"It's all under control," Deep Voice Man said, drawing smoke into his lungs once more. "Now go to sleep. Anderson and your phone will be here in the morning."

Okay, admittedly, I'm not sure which son would be here in the morning, because I cannot tell any of them apart, but what does it even matter now?

It was clear there was no arguing with Deep Voice Man and also clear I couldn't do this on my own. So I just had to hope they would return my phone to me and let me out again. Plus, it's not like it's hard to escape these huts, so once I'm healed I'll be able to try again. Bold of my brain to assume I'd be able to escape this island at all. Ever.

I followed Lopez to a nearby hut where he untied my hands and wrapped my ankle in some kind of tape or elastic band. "It'll be okay," he said finally, sliding my phone onto the bed beside me. "You'll be fine in the morning."

What was that supposed to mean? But before I could ask him, or thank him for his help, he had left the small hut and closed the door. The distinct sound of a padlock on the other side indicated that I was most definitely still a prisoner.

I flipped my phone over and entered the passcode. No Service. Of course.

So there was definitely no getting out of here yet. Might as well sleep.

Without taking off my wet, muddy clothes, I hid the phone under my pillow and turned to face the wall, quickly drifting off to sleep.

The business croissant had made his tweet and soared to the highest heights of the social conveyor belt. He beamed with pride: the message had been received. He had achieved his goal. He would change the world.

At the end of the day, he got off the conveyor and returned home. But something felt wrong. Something needed fixing. It was then that he realized his greatest asset had been separated from him. The girl who ran the phone was missing and he needed to find her to complete his mission.

He gathered up all the breakfast foods he could find — even having to enlist the help of coffee. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Once the team was assembled, the task was clear. Break her out of there. They forged ahead into battle, quickly and quietly, brandishing their baguette swords and strawberry armour.

"Charge!" yelled the scrambled eggs.

"Onward!" came the cry of the hollandaise.

Together, they crashed headlong into the door of the hut she was staying in, trying to break down the door. Strawberries littered the field of battle as a third wave of toast soldiers came rushing in to defeat the door.

Finally, with a very large crack, the door fell off its hinges and crashed to the floor. Dust from the dirt floor spun up into the air but the breakfast soldiered on.

I was shaken awake from yet another ridiculous dream by Winnifred, who had placed her hand over my mouth. "Shh," she ordered. "We're here to get you out. Did Lopez get your phone to you?"

"What?"

"Do you have your phone?" she said slowly.

"Oh, yeah."

"Good, then get up. We're busting you out."

I blinked to adjust to being awake and looked over toward the door on the dirt floor of the room. "Did you kick that in?"

"Of course not!" Winnifred laughed. "A couple of the other girls did. Now get up, we have to go."

Without thinking, I spun my legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand up. But, unsurprisingly, I wound up flat on my bed after my ankle yet again gave way under my own weight.

"I think I need the door busting girls to help me. I can't walk."

"Okay just grab your phone and your clothes and I'll be back in a second."

"What clothes?" But she was already gone. I had no clothes to change into, so I guessed prison chic and covered in mud was going to have to do. Good thing there's no dress code for organizing coups or I'd be in trouble twice.

Winnifred shortly returned with two small women who probably collectively weighed less than me. Still they picked me up with ease and carried me to a waiting vessel at the shoreline which looked much sturdier — and smelled a lot cleaner — than the small boat that had brought me over from the mainland.

Just as the girls pushed back from shore and started the motor, I caught sight of Mr. Anderson standing on the shoreline looking out at me. Once again I found myself in the unenviable position of staring at his gorgeous self and wishing his eyes didn't draw me to him like magnets.

And once again I was wearing clothes that made me look like a swamp creature. I guess that's our thing now. He shows up when I'm wearing really ugly clothes and I'm left to wonder why he's still attractive. Well, shit.

Fortunately, the darkness covered him quickly as the boat pulled away from shore and I could pretend the whole thing never happened. Probably.

Okay. Probably not.