The Showcase

Chapter Two

I tried to keep myself balanced as people streamed out of the mag-lev, and onto the platform. The train rocked slightly, and I clutched the pole in the middle of the car even tighter, knuckles turning white.

"Last call for Franklin Street," the conductor droned over the intercom. I took a deep breath and released the pole, slowly inching forward until I reached the door. I hopped down carefully and stumbled a little before regaining my balance. I followed the crowd, looking around as the train chugged out of the station.

The station was a sea of different shades of green, blue, and purple. The people jostled each other, every one of them looking flustered and stressed out. They were all too wrapped up in their own lives to notice anything outside of the business meeting they were twenty minutes late for. They held their coffee mugs high, their heads higher, and clutched their bags tight as they plowed through the crowd with one shoulder forward.

The letter included no other information than the address, so, with Cara and Chastity’s shrieks of excitement still ringing in my ears, I’d climbed today’s train to the city without knowing why, what or who was waiting for me. But I had a when and a where. Two out of five didn’t seem that bad.

I had heard about the city from older friends and teachers who’d gone into it. Compassions really didn’t belong here though. There was nothing downtown but skyscrapers full of buisness and politics, and that wasn’t our area of expertise, so I stuck out like a sore thumb with my bright orange shirt screaming 'I don't belong!'

I smiled at them as they passed, but no one really noticed me. I tried to ignore that just as much as they ignored me, staring in wonder at all the new sights around me as I continued up the stairs with the rest of them.

***

I squinted a little as the light from outside flooded in through the open doors, but kept moving. I walked for blocks, taking in my surroundings so much that I didn't realize I had been going the wrong way. I looked around desperately for anyone who would stop to help me. I caught sight of a rusty orange jacket and squeezed through the crowd towards it, charged with determination.

"Excuse me, sir?" I asked the man. He was standing next to the door of a tall apartment building, one white gloved hand on the door handle. "I'm a little lost, could you help me please?"

"Mornin' Mr. Montague." He quickly pulled the door open and nodded at the man in a green suit who'd come barreling out of the lobby. Then he turned to me. "Why sure, little lady. Where ya' tryin' to go?"

I looked down at my letter. "96 Franklin Street."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, but pointed down the street in the direction opposite from where I'd come. "You wanna go down this way about 8 doors, and it'll be that big glass building right there."

I looked down the street, and saw the sun glinting off of the tip of a huge skyscraper. I smiled and thanked him for his help, bracing myself before slipping back into the crowd. After passing two tram stops, a crowded tea shop and another subway stop, I finally stood in front of the glass doors. I took one last deep breath, grabbed one of the perfectly polished chrome handles, and pulled.

***

The lobby was strange, but breathtaking. I’d never seen anything like it before. The walls were all made of one-way glass, instead of mirrors like it seemed from the outside. The ceilings were high, and the tiles there were actually made of reflective glass. From the ceiling hung three large crystal chandeliers, which formed a triangle around the room, and the floor seemed to be covered a single, solid layer of black garnet.

There were two gray leather couches on each side, and a small gray coffee table in front of them. On the both tables stood a vase which held exactly eight flowers, one red, one orange, one yellow, green, blue, purple, black and white.

And on the far end of the room was a massive u-shaped desk, at which a lone secretary sat, alternating between scribbling on a notepad, typing on her computer, and muttering incoherently to herself. I walked slowly over to her, taking in the features of room as I went. I stopped in front of her desk and waited for a moment, but she didn't look up from her work until I cleared my throat.

"May I help you?" she asked, looking at me over the rims of her silver glasses.

"Uh, yes, I'm looking for room 810," I said, holding up my envelope. "My name is Amia Daulton."

She nodded and pointed towards the polished chrome doors of the elevator. "Take the elevator up to floor eight and it should be the 5th door on your right."

I thanked her and headed over to elevator, pressing the up button and swaying back and forth as I waited. Just as the bell dinged, the secretary called out.

"Oh, and Amia, was it?"

"Yes?"

She sat her pen down on the desk. "The very best of luck to you."

***

The doors dinged again and I stepped off the elevator on the eighth floor. I counted five doors down and stopped in front of a wooden door that looked like all the others, except it wasn't. It couldn't be.

Behind this door was my chance to escape. If I succeeded, my life would never be the same. I wouldn't have to spend every day searching for whatever it was I was looking for. I knew it now; what I've been dreaming of, it's right through this door. Fame, money, glory, and most of all respect, something I could never earn any other way. And if I failed, I would never forgive myself.

Wanderlust burning in my chest, I grabbed the knob firmly and turned.

***

Three men in oxford shirts were huddled around a table on the opposite side of the room, conversing quietly but angrily. They jumped up immediately as I opened the door, quickly resuming their seats.

Glancing at me with hard and disinterested stares, they shuffled their papers and straightened their ties while I stood awkwardly, completely stunned by their odd reactions.

Finally, the one in the white shirt spoke, "Amia Daulton?"

I nodded, still in shock.

The man in green interrupted my reverie, "We just need you to answer us a few questions."

"Sure, anything."

They asked me a few simple questions, full birth name, age, the school I was currently attending, favorite colors, and things like that. Then the questions started getting more difficult, like my favorite traits about me, least favorite traits, biggest fears, and my wildest dreams.

"Thank you, Miss Daulton. I think that'll be all," the man in purple said once we had finished fifty minutes later. My palms were sweaty, and I was feeling a little less sure and a little more nauseous that I’d felt when I first came in. He pointed with his pen to a door that I hadn't noticed before. "If you'll just proceed through there, we'll begin the final phase."

"Thank you," I nodded, standing up and wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. I smiled, and they stared at me with the same blank faces they had for the past hour. I nodded again and swallowed, grabbing the handle and stepped through the door as quickly as I'd gone through the last two.

***

Author's Note: Thanks for reading:) This chapter's song is 'Don't You Worry Child' by Swedish House Mafia!