The Artists' Palette

Chapter 6

The doors swing open.  I slowly take in the scene that is waiting, and… It’s what looks like a cafeteria.  I nearly burst out laughing.  Here I was, freaking out, thinking we were going to die, having a panic attack.  Then, I blush madly.  Lark kissed me!  And this time, he meant it!  He said he loved me… and I said it back!  Oh god.  On the plus side, I know where we stand now.  But does this mean he’s my… boyfriend?

            You know what?  I don’t care.  We could die anytime now.  I’m just going to let things happen as they happen.  That sounds like a good plan.

            “You gonna move, or what?”  The guard asks.  I mumble an apology, but not before he shoves us forward.  “You go up to the window.  You get food.  You sit down.  You don’t talk.”  With that, he walks away.

            Lark makes a face, imitating him, and it takes every ounce of willpower in my body not to crack up.  Again.

            Together, we walk over to the “window” (it’s really more of a hole in the wall with a person shoving food onto trays) and sit down in silence.  I look around at the people surrounding me.  They all have numbers printed on their uniforms, and every one of them wears a blank expression.  They stare into space while they robotically put food into their mouths.  It just might be the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.

            I quickly look down at my plate, as to not express my horror.  On it sits a water bottle, four tablets of assorted dull colors, and six balls about the size of pennies.  Unlike the tablets, which are muted, grayish colors, the balls are bright and have swirling juices inside of them.  I pick one up and after I examine it, I pop I in my mouth.  It’s filled with the taste of fruit!  I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for anything in my life.  Eagerly, I polish them all off.

            Then, I’m left with the tablets.  There’s just the barest hint of color in each one – red, blue, and two yellow.  The blue one tastes like milk, the yellow bread, and the red vaguely reminds me of beef.  It’s enough to make me puke, and I gulp down my water bottle to hold it back.  Now, I wished I had saved the fruit balls for last.

            I think about the meal for a second.  Why on earth would the Administration create something as delicious as the fruit balls?  They’re evil, shouldn’t they be doing other evil things, not making delectable concoctions?  There has to be a reason behind it.

            My mind travels to the food pyramid we were given in second grade health class.  It was before the Administration, but would the concept still be in play? There were different food groups— carbohydrates, fruits & veggies, protein, and dairy.  They told us that if we wanted to have enough energy for the day, we should consume each group in the right amount.  I guess that’s the only possible rationale, isn’t it? It does seem like something the Administration would think of.  Got to have the workers fully functional, right?

            As I take a swig of water, I feel a dull ache in my stomach… Oh god, do I have to pee!  I motion to Lark that I’ll be right back, and walk up to a guard.

            “May I please use the bathroom?”  I ask him.  Quickly, he nods, looking uncomfortable.  That’s one thing I learned from school – if you ever need to use the bathroom (or just want to get out of somewhere), make sure you ask a guy, because no man in his right mind wants to get involved with feminine problems.

            He escorts me through a few hallways, and I catch people staring at me and whispering.

            “…Love to hear about…”

            “…Could be useful…”

            “…Secret art movement…”

            “…Need them…”

            “…Captain wants…”

            I strain my ears to hear them, but they catch a glimpse of me staring, and immediately halt their conversations.  Grumbling, I go to and from the bathroom as quickly as possible, wanting to get back to Lark to report my discoveries.  I practically run back to the cafeteria and take my place next to Lark.

            I cup my hands over his ears to tell him, but a guard comes over and whacks me on the head.  I wince in pain.

            “No talking.”  He hisses at me before trudging away.   Lark’s eyes widen in concern before he gives a venomous glare to the guard.  It’s a good thing looks can’t kill, because that guy would be in serious trouble.  We’re talking chunks on the floor, that’s how seething mad Lark was.  I kicked him under the table, and motioned that I was fine.  Some of his anger faded away from his eyes, but not much.

            I tried to look away from Lark, but… His eyes.  Trust me, I am by no means a sappy romantic girl, nor have I ever been.  (Hence my never picking up on Lark’s crush on me.)  But right now, I was completely enraptured in him.  Have you ever heard of there being fire in somebody’s eyes?  Well, that’s what was going on now with Lark.  The thing is though; Lark’s eyes are ocean blue.  Rage twirled and danced around, enthralling me in the show.  I couldn’t tear myself away – it was like a stormy sea.

            Lark winked, snapping me from my trance, and raised an eyebrow in question.  Blushing, I glanced away as fast as I could.  My sixth sense told me that Lark was still grinning though.

            Stupid.  I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid!  I yell inside my head.  He’s never going to let this go!

            Once again, I almost laugh in spite of myself.  How on earth am I having such girly problems right now? This has never been an issue before! Why is it that when I’m awaiting my imminent death, my heart decides to activate then?  Honestly, of all times…

            Our guard from before comes up to us.  “Come with me,” he grumbles.  We comply, but that doesn’t stop Lark from making faces behind his back.  Or doe eyes at me.  I sigh.  This was going to be interesting.  I had to go be alone in a room with beds, accompanied by Lark.

            Yes, it was definitely going to be interesting.