Moody

SIX: TEDDY

SIX: TEDDY

Tuesday

Dad bustled to his blanket pile.

"Got any more canned beans for us, Peter?"

Peter shook his blue-haired head.

"Alright. Time to sleep then. Ted, into bed."

My bed pile was luckily facing the only window in the shack. It was still light out, but getting darker. And I wasn't tired. Though dad probably wanted to get up once the sun rose to search for the Resisters' camp. I didn't want to go with him, but I did want to save the Resisters. And I was afraid. What if I only made it worse? What if dad wouldn't listen to me? What if he didn't like me intervening and did something to me?

I would just have to be brave.

I remember when we didn't have colour-changing hair. I remembered my wheat-blond hair. I remember Opal's platinum hair, the hair that, once in the sun, glittered with blues and pinks. She had beautiful hair.

Had.

And I remember Pam's ruddy brown hair. The hair that I always saw before I saw Pam's body. She always wore a bun—a huge bun because she had a ton of hair—on the top of her head.

I smiled at the memory. I missed Pam, frantically searching—jumping—for me in crowded areas as she was short. And pushing between people to get to me once she had found me.

I clenched my fists and bit my lip.

It was their fault she was in a coma.

I sighed. There were clouds rolling over the moon.

I wanted to sleep, but I wasn't tired. Just the image of Pam falling to the ground unconscious just as the chemicals settled in was running through my mind. It played over and over in my head, the fear rippling through my body again and again, until I was so exhausted that blackness overcame me.

***

Wednesday

I jerked awake. I could swear that I heard someone screaming my name.

There was an ache in my head, and sweat was cooling on my skin, making my shirt stick to me.

The moonlight shone through the tiny, dirt scrubbed window onto Peter and dad's sleeping piles. As far as I could tell, they were both still sleeping.

I laid back on the blankets and watched the moon.

Then I heard a soft whisper. A whisper of my name.

I sat up, my eyes darting around the room.

Peter had sat up.

In the moonlight I could see his hand, beckoning me towards him. I was skeptical. He had spoken?

He started gesturing more.

"Ted, come here."

I let out a small yelp. He had spoken! I crawled over to his blanket pile, avoiding dad's splayed legs, to see Peter looking serious.

"Do you know why you're on this mission?" he asked me.

"Yes. Dad told me."