This Conspiracy

Chapter 11

Author stuff: Whereas I posted the last chapter all from my phone due to issues with my laptop, I'm posting this chapter from my laptop because I'm having issues with my phone. Sounds pretty typical of tech and me.

Or it could just be that my brain's gone to mush. That's probably most likely.

Chapter 11

In Which The Girlie Is Awkward

Graham was good in the Kitchens. Really good. This was a surprise to everyone, including him. Flossy smiled as she watched him and Frypan taste test a few things – the Greenbean's taste buds being far above average. Flossy tried a few of the spices Frypan wanted to add into the dish they were preparing for dinner – a spicy stew of some sort – but after trying some type of dried, ground hot pepper, her taste buds hadn't returned to normal. And she didn't they would any time soon.

Instead, she focused on dicing the onions and chopping up the carrots.

"How are you not crying?" Archie said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He'd been assigned the relatively fun task of peeling and cutting up the potatoes. Unfortunately, he had to work next to her. It was the only work space available for him.

"Don't know," she said. Sure, the onions smelled, but they weren't bothering her the way they were the boys.

"You are a freak of nature," one of the Cooks – Aaron or something like that – said, looking from the onions to her. "None of us have been able to do five onions and not cried."

"Were they telling you a sad story?"

"Oh, ha ha."

Aaron-or-something-like-that grumbled under his breath, something that was most certainly an insult, but she didn't hear it. It was probably a good thing Frypan was across the kitchen with Graham. With his sharp hearing, the poor boy would probably have gotten his ears boxed in.

"Finished with those?" another Cook said, gesturing to the onions and carrots.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

He took the cutting board from in front of her and brought it over to the massive cauldron of stew. He slid the vegetables in, scraping off any little bits with a spoon he had with him. He brought it back to her after rinsing it off.

"Think you can handle celery?" he said, offering her up a bunch.

"We have celery?" she said, taking it. "I didn't see any in the Gardens yesterday."

"Zart's going to try to start growing it again. We lost the last batch to some rain about a week ago. A lot of it started rotting. I'm surprised none came up with you."

She hummed and got to work. The Kitchens were nice, she decided. She liked working with the chatty group, and she loved being surrounded by all the delightful smells – the vegetable stew, the yeasty smell of rising dough for bread, the wood burning below the massive cauldron. She could be content there.

Lunch, however, proved her wrong. Teenage boys and young men had an appetite that went unmeasured, especially considering the life they had been forced into. Now, Flossy knew this beforehand, but she'd never experienced it from the other side of the serving station.

She'd never feared anything more in her whole life. And that was saying something.

"Are you sure they're not animals?" she said to Frypan, watching in horror as the sandwiches they'd prepared disappeared quicker than any of them could make. She hid behind the Keeper, peeking over his arm. "Like, absolutely certain?"