The Half-Giant's Guide to Seeing the Future

The Day I Was Caught In A Gayle

A slamming door woke me from nightmares of shadowy figures. My eyes flew open, and a girl my age stood over my bed. She had light brown skin, thick dark hair that reached her shoulders in waves, and eyes like a guileless doe.

She didn't wear armor like the other people in the compound. Instead, she sported a white crop top and torn jeans with sandals.

"Oh good," she said. "You're awake."

"I am now," I groaned. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gayle," she twirled a dark purple highlight behind her ear. "You met my annoying big brother and his peppy fianceé. And you're the Oakeley girl. The big princess. I always hated it when I got assigned to do your guard duty. Figures Moreno had to interfere and make it interesting. He's always like that."

I hadn't expected to meet someone in this realm of giants who reminded me of all those preppy girls I hated in private school. They'd made my life miserable since all they could do was make fun of me.

Jilly said that girls like that were all the same. They were vapid and shallow but mostly insecure. Gayle kept babbling on and on, and it was like she was speaking in tongues. Either what she was saying wasn't clicking, or I was so sleep-deprived that my subconscious created the worst angel ever to continue my lucid nightmare.

"Slow down," I pushed half of my body out of bed. "Why did you wake me up?"

"You're missing breakfast, duh," Gayle said. "And Moreno said you needed to eat before the two of you hit the training gym. You're so lucky because Moreno is like the best. I mean, the highest training scores belong to Alana, but Moreno has such a form."

The only word that registered was breakfast. My stomach growled, reminding me that, technically, I'd missed a meal yesterday. I was still in my clothes, and my legs were stiff from sleeping in an odd position.

I rolled out of bed, and my feet hit the hard floor with a thud. At least I'd had enough sense to throw my shoes off before I fell into bed the night before.

"Can I change?" I asked.

"Well, you can't wear that to breakfast," Gayle looked at my jeans and flannel shirt with disgust and eyed my duffle bag. "Please tell me you brought other clothes."

She proceeded to open and rifle through my luggage, clicking her tongue. Gayle frowned but emerged with a white shirt and bootcut jeans I wore around the ranch.

"This has potential," she said. "But it needs a belt or some statement piece. Didn't you bring anything else? I mean, what are you trying to say with this much flannel?"

"There wasn't a lot of time," my face was hot.

Gayle looked up at me. "Oh, you poor thing. I'll dust off my patterns and make you something suitable. Halfants have atrocious fashion sense, but I'm working to make a difference."

With that, she shoved the clothes into my arms and pushed me into the bathroom. I changed quickly and washed my face. My hair was a mess, but I did my best to tame it with my fingers.

I pushed the front part out of my face to reveal my gold eye. It started back at me as if to remind me that the madness in my life was all real. I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Gayle took one look at my hair, pulled a neon scrunchie off her wrist, and pulled the top of my hair back. She was talking again about how she was an artist just as much as Petra, whatever that meant, and she took pride in her work.

She took a step back finally when she was done. "Lovely. You almost look like one of us."

It was better that I didn't look over my shoulder to see my hair in the mirror. I probably didn't want to know what Gayle had done.