Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

3.3 Actress

It's not until the next morning that I manage to talk with the others. Amy leans against her broom on my left, beachy waves framing her face. The three musketeers slide a mattress along the floor behind her, slowing to a crawl to collude. Fern, Laura and Josie with hair of midnight, brown and lighter brown, turn their inquisitive eyes to me. The colour of their eyes is leached by the stream of sunlight through a slit-like window at the back. I crouch below them, hidden for a time.

"Amy's already told you about this. The bastards have decided to close Seven . Which means we only have twelve, thirteen days to escape or we have to pledge or die." My words fall flat and there's nothing left to say. The faces of my fighters, leaning over me on brooms or clutching mattresses, echo the doom of the statement back to me.

Then they move away, the dance of trying not to get caught. Girls stacking up their mattresses against the wall, Amy sweeping the corner. Ten seconds later our paths intersect again.

"Is it real though?" Whispers Laura.

"Fern was the last one here, " Josie counters, "That was six months ago."

"Do you think they've been planning this? Why now though?" Asks Fern.

I give them all a disparaging look. "Who almost escaped the other night?"

I don't think Amy's listening, though her eyes are bright with revellation.

"That's where Miss Marigold's gone," She mutters. I see Fern and Josie's eyes widen. That's true. A month back our usual teacher had vanished from Seven. No explanations, just shrugs from the wardens.

"Fighters..." a warning growl sounds from one of the wardens as he stalks over. "No plotting!" I brush Amy's hand as I rise from my crouch.

"No, not today." I reply and it's an order to my fighters as much as a response to the warden. I raise my hands in faux surrender. But we'd better start plotting soon.

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Amy's brainstorming as we go back to the main hall for lunch.

"Do you think the tempastas story could be important? I'm thinking caves underneath Seven... How much can we really believe, though?" I can hear excitement thrumming under her words.

Something shifts in my peripheral vision and I jump forward instinctively. It's Mildrith, glowering behind her eyebrows.

"You can't sit together. Move it." Mildrith snaps.

My stomach growls as I dance around Mildrith, frustrated. Even the most inane conversations are interrupted around here. Someone is always watching, controlling. I examine the mortar around the bricks by the windows for a second. Still too small to slip through, still too hard to pull out a brick. I'm so eager to uncover a new escape plan that I'm happy to retrace old ground.

Now that Mildrith has moved on to supervise someone else I sneak over to snatch my lunch, cold sandwiches like always. At least there's cheese. I churn through new allies and information in my head, processing and cataloguing my experiences. Can I get the Huntsmen to do my work for me? Sneak us out in an empty food container?

My eyes drift over the tables, the cliques of worm, weeper and fighter laid out before me. And of course the fence sitters, who seem to be gossiping over some romance novel. I gaze longingly at Amy and the three younger fighters, their faces animated as they continue Amy's brainstorming session.

My eyes slide across to the worm's table, where Macie and two others are eating politely. Though infuriating, Macie's smart and she's been outside at least twenty times on the arm of her sponsor. I only have my pride to lose at this point, so I make a beeline for the worms.

"Hello, worms," I say, layering sarcasm and disgust on that last word. Macie shoots me an icy look of dislike but otherwise ignores me as I sit across from her. A silent wall is erected in the middle of the table and I am happy enough to let it hang for the moment whilst I scrutinise them.

I munch noisily on a sandwich, weighing up if I should tell her about the new deadline too. Is it a bargaining chip or does she have the right to know? Watching the ends of her black hair slip over her shoulder doesn't tell me if she'll snitch to the wardens though. Yesterday I'd been close to contemplating Finley as an ally. If I can trust a Huntsman, even a little, surely I can give Macie the benefit of the doubt?

"Can you keep a secret?" I blurt out as she collect a mouthful of salad on her fork. Her eyes flash with interest but she doesn't look right at me. Instead she raises the fork to her lips and chews quietly, probably stalling while she thinks about how to respond. Only after she swallows and wipes her mouth does she deign to respond.

"I might... if you do me a favour. Okay?" She replies, pressing her tiny mouth into a smile. Frustration rolls over in my chest and I grind my teeth.

This is why I don't associate with Macie. She is not just superficially vapid but eighteen months in Seven have transformed her into a scheming actress. They'd stamped fighter on her original documentation but with amazing tenacity she had proved them all wrong.

"What is it?" I reply, remembering the time she'd tried to bully me into holding hands with Finley. That attempt had not turned out well for her.

"Oh, I'm sure it's as good as your secret. I want you to come to the ceremony tomorrow. The least these two lucky girls deserve-" At this she flourishes her fingers to indicate her two fan-girls, "-Is your devoted attention on their special day."

I had forgotten about the ceremony. Glaring at Macie, I can't decide if it is entirely terrible that they are getting out before termination day. Would I pledge my life away to ensure that I at least had one?

"Fine." I sigh. "But even you can't force me to enjoy myself." I always avoided ceremonies. Loitering under the attention of dozens of Huntsmen and wardens was slimy. A much better day was spent slipping away while everyone's attention was turned. Unfortunately my best hideout has already been smoked.

Macie ignores me as she dives her fork into her sandwich-turned-salad once more.

"Come over here and I'll tell you mine." I growl, wishing that I didn't want her attention. She drops her fork and folds her hands on the table before her, staring me down. A second of tension dominates the area.

"Excuse me, Liza." She asks and her friend who still has her mind slides aside to let her out. I bite my lip to cover a smile. At least Macie gives me the time of day every so often. She takes a seat beside me, sliding her plate over.

"Seven is closing in two weeks. We are all going to be terminated." I whisper. Macie glances at me under her hair, perhaps a way of hiding her worried expression?

"And what will termination mean for me?" Macie's words are oddly honest for her, plain and concerned.

I frown, "Termination is a death sentence. Everyone knows that."

She cocks her head, "I heard it was a dungeon." If the thought of imprisonment underground terrifies her face doesn't reveal it.

I raise my eyebrows, "Does it matter? You've been outside. You ever seen someone who's been terminated? You ever seen Jayne?" The words send a pang through me but I don't let it show.

Her shoulders lift and fall in a number of enormous breaths. But she doesn't deny it.

"I have something for you too." Macie whispers under her breath. I frown at her, tension coiling in my gut. She's about to snap the trap shut. She'll call over one of the wardens and tell them I've got hold of privileged information.

"Finley apologises that he can't make it in today. He says he will definitely be at the ceremony though." Somehow she conveys all the sincerity of Finley in the words.

I rock back on the bench seat, breath whistling out between my teeth. When did she talk to Finley? Are they in league?

"Maybe we'll finally get to see this famous romance in action," she jibes. All my questions evaporate in a swirl of anger. I grit my teeth at her audacity and shove away from the table. I'll go eat somewhere else then.