O.S.S.

OSS #2: Zipped Lips 2

The time was 8:15 AM.

The keyword is "was."

It read 8:15 on someone's watch last I checked, which I estimate was about 25 minutes ago, in the main lobby of the estate.

Everyone was just waking up. And much to my relief, that included Absinthe, who stood minding her business with her back to the wall, scanning the area and observing every transpiring event or conversation, like some kind of robot.

"How typical it is for her to stand with her back hidden," I thought. "But how can I sneakily approach her from behind?"

I chose to remain hidden from her sight until she turned around. She would have to. You can't face away from people all the time.

I thought it was a horrifying prospect that such a human skin suit could exist, with the familiar ambient warmth a real person provides, and the same texture as human skin, and the same shape and structure of a human skeleton.

It all seemed so perfect. I thought to try reminding myself it was unrealistic for such a thing to exist. How could it? Had the unsent E-Mail dug its size 13 talons deep into my subconscious prejudice toward Abby?

Brushing it off, I guessed I would have to find out. Since I was already here, it wouldn't hurt to try finding out, since I'd made all the mental preparation.

My first plan was to simply sneak up on her from behind and sneak a peek at the costume's way out without her knowledge. In my socks, I was easily able to creep around the tile floors without a sound being made, or even conceptualized. Thus, I waited until Abby had joined the ration line in the cafeteria, which was opposite to my hiding position.

She was standing near the wooden staircase, her expression colored with pliancy. Like an animal without anything to do, and yet she didn't do what normal people did when they were aimless: Find something to do, or, at the very least, shamble about looking for something to do. I'd almost drifted off to sleep by the time she began moving. At that time, only 3 people were left in line, so it was natural to assume she had stood there waiting until the breakfast line bordered on extinction. With this, I could sympathize. Before I had turned, I had despised long breakfast or lunch lines, but now I tend to not get either of them.

Abby took a few steps toward the line.

Then a few more.

Then just a few more.

And then she marched into the line.

Finally, she turned around. Now was my chance!

I quickly slid over to the breakfast line, but soon I found that she had somehow heard me despite my silence! At the same time, I stopped in my tracks and she quickly turned with her back to the front of the line. Now I was face-to-face with her: The wolf in sheep's clothing. But I wouldn't cry wolf just yet.

After we exchanged empty stares, she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"Um, hello, Evelyn. Were you trying to scare me?" Abby tilted her head to punctuate her sentence, speaking in a tone only shared by real friends. To this, I furrowed my brows a small bit. I was NOT friends with this monster, nor would I be.

The silence set in after a couple of seconds and I responded.

"No, Abby, I was just entering the line because I'm peckish, just as you are.." In a hasty mockery, I punctuated my sentence as well, with an adjustment of my glasses. A nod to the nerdy stereotype I fit in snugly.

Absinthe was quicker to respond than I thought, fixing her posture and taking on a lightly accusatory tone, with a hint of guilt-trip.

"But you don't ever get in line, do you? I never see you in line."

"That's because I'm always first in line, Abby."

"Then, why weren't you?"

"Because Scarlett is sickly, and I volunteered to take care of her. Even if not that, the orphanage staff task one or multiple of the ill's roommates with being their caretaker. This morning she needed her medicine."

Abby was temporarily caught up in silence after my argument. Though facetious and a little arrogant, I thought I had 'won,' but then Abby spoke again.

"Hmm. Okay, then, if you're always first in line, how come I never see you with a tray at any of the tables?" Abby retorted.

I had almost fallen into her trap! Admittedly, I was a little choked up, though to a higher degree than she had been moments ago.

Not wanting to lose any face, I collected myself and once again argued against her claim.

"Because I'm a fast eater, Abby. What do you suppose I use my, er.. irregular teeth for?"

"I dunno, it seems a little far-fetched with just how skin-and-bones you are, Evvy."

Who the hell did this girl—or thing—think she was?

I crossed my arms and glared at Abby.

"You can't say that. I have a condition, you know. And fast metabolism exists."

"We're barking up the wrong tree here." Abby quickly interrupted me, chuckling. Not only was she a weirdo, she was arrogant, and a jerk.

I glared at Abby. If she knew what tree NOT to bark up, then surely she'd know what tree we should bark up.

The line was empty now, and it was like Abby was trick-or-treating, but instead of getting candy from the kitchen staff, her pail was filled with impatient looks. Gleaned from their body language, I could make the assumption that they were about to speak and make a passive-aggressive encouragement for Abby and I to get our food.

Like Abby read my mind, or simply picked up on the social cue, she began backing up away from me, moving forward in the line. She dared not to turn her back to me, but her mistake was thinking I didn't know why.

The kitchen staff, disgruntled, gave Abby a food tray. Then, when it was my turn, I got a tray as well, carrying a bunch of foods I hadn't seen or eaten in a long time, and that I wouldn't.

Abby waited for me at the line's egress, looking right into my eyes, prepared to make an awful suggestion.

"Hey, Evvy, why don'tcha come sit with me?"