Of Illnesses And Antidotes

Chapter Nine

Putting my sketchbook down, I sigh and glance longingly at the door. It's fifteen minutes after curfew and Val still hasn't returned. I'm trying not to worry – Val's perfectly capable of taking care of herself – but I can't help it. After what we've recently discovered, anything could've happened to her. Something bad could have happened. Something awful.

"Psst."

My head snaps up. My eyes flit to the door. Amidst the darkness of a slit in the doorway, a single eye is watching me. The gap widens and Val nods at me, beckoning me towards her. Breathing a sigh of relief, I climb off my bunk and step up to Renée's bed. She smiles at me.

"Have a good night," she whispers. "Don't enjoy yourself too much. Oh, and be careful. You never know what might happen."

"I won't and don't worry, I'm always careful."

Renée arches a dubious eyebrow. "Really now?"

I grin. "See you tomorrow." Stepping back down, I hurry over to Val and out of the room.

"Where did you-" I break off, gasping.

Standing with Val is Carrie, dressed herself in a plain, shortcut black dress. Her hair is neatly pinned up into a messy bun and a lather of bright red lipstick coats her lips. She smiles warmly at me and holds up the hanger in her hand. Drooping down, is a short, honey-coloured, strapless dress, a matching bow loosely tied around the waist.

"Val said you had a penchant for yellow things." Carrie smiles, and hands the dress over. "And I can see why. That dress suits you like feathers fit a duck."

"It's stunning," I whisper. "Absolutely stunning." I look up to Carrie, then hand Val the dress and throw my arms around her. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"No worries," Carrie laughs, gently pushing me away. "Now come on, Miss Naomi. If you don't hurry up and get ready, you'll miss out on all the fun."

***

Stepping out from around the corner, I take tentative steps down the corridor. A sweet, mellow melody mingled with light-hearted chatter wafts from the main hall, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere that beckons me in. Stopping outside the doors, I peer in through the glass panels and search for him. My lips break out into a smile. Just as he promised, Kit stands beside the serving hatch, waiting patiently for me to arrive. Taking a deep breath, I nudge the door open slightly and slip into the hall.

Carefully, I weave my way through the mass of dancing couples, delicately stepping over the long, flowing material of the dresses and avoiding any moving feet. All of a sudden, something darts out in front of me. It takes me by surprise and I stumble backwards. The ground vanishes beneath my feet. My eyes slam shut. Then something grabs my wrist, clenching it tight. Opening my eyes, my eyes land upon his grin. That playful grin.

"You alright down there?"

I shake my head, smiling, and allow him to pull me up. "Never better."

Kit returns the smile and takes my other hand. "May I escort you to your first dance?"

"You certainly may."

Placing one hand on his shoulder, he places his hand on my hip and we begin to move. Gently at first, as we try to find our rhythm. Renée's five-minute lesson on how to dance barely helps me, but I manage not to trip over in the first few minutes. Glancing up at Kit, he smiles and twirls me around.

"You look gorgeous by the way."

"Why, thank you."

"How did you manage to get your hands on a dress anyway?" Kit narrows his eyes, bemused. "The matrons have always been strict with whom is allowed in with the outfits."