Lunar Virus ✔️

Chapter Thirteen: Elodie

Exactly 13 hours after our little stunt the other day, I’m walking down to the auditorium, our established meeting place, where we will hopefully find a way to be able to stop the Final Simulation. Yesterday the staff, although they knew that it was us who put laxatives in the coffee, decided not to do anything in way of punishment. I suppose they are forbidden from punishing us the day before the Final Simulation. After all, if they expel or suspend us, we wouldn’t have to take the simulation, which is the opposite of what they want.

My footsteps echo emptily in the hallway as I quicken my pace. Tomorrow, unless we don’t do something, the Final Simulation would activate the virus laying dormant within us. Just outside the doors to the auditorium, I give myself a little pep talk before opening the door with a flourish. I might as well come in with a bang.

“Shut up! You don’t know anything, ya little, useless git,” says a girl. Her pretty, hooded eyes are narrowed and her lips are pulled into a fierce, aggressive expression.

Goshdarnit. What have I just walk into?

"Oh, yeah? Well at least I can perform basic functions properly! Apparently, you can’t even put m--”

Before the boy can finish, I intervene, “Woah, woah, guys. What’s going on here?”

The girl, looking indignant, uncrosses her arms and jabs a finger into the other guy’s beefy chest. Six other people, including Sheila and Elie, have formed a little circle around the pair and are watching excitedly. “He can’t do anything right in life!” she growls.

Egad. Did I just walk into a couples fight?

The boy inhales slowly and exhales through his nose. I intervene again, “What are you guys fighting about anyway?”

The girl, wrinkling her nose, answers, “He puts his cereal in the bowl before he puts the milk in. It’s absolutely barbaric.”

“No!” he cries, “it is not barbaric. What is barbaric, is putting the milk in, before you put the cereal in!” If I’m being honest, it’s pretty funny watching a hefty guy going against a small, but intimidating looking girl.

“Well then,” the girls pops her hip out and turns away, “Have fun with your soggy cereal.” She struts into the circle of spectators just as they turn to commend the girl. Then, in an eerily unison manner, they all turn to Elie. Damnit, Elie. What have you done.

“Alright, settle down! The next question is from Jayne over here,” he points to the same girl who was arguing about cereal, “What would be the coolest bird to scale up to the size of a horse?”

Immediately, about four hands go up.

“Okay, okay, Dev and Bernie will debate this one out. Ready, set, go!” The two guys immediately step into the circle and set out to prove which animal, the pelicans or “the honk-honks”, would be better suited for being horse-sized. I suppose the one guy just forgot the name of the type of bird he was talking about, and decided to name them “honk-honks”.

I pull Sheila aside to ask her what’s going on.

“Oh, just some friendly team bonding. The pair before was debating on whether cereal should be put in the bowl before or after the milk.” Friendly team bonding? Interesting. I guess it’s working. I mean, at least the circle of spectators seem to be enjoying it. Some are doubled over laughing, while others are honking to imitate the alluring mating call of the “honk-honks”. Yep. It’s working. I find myself being drawn into the debate, and before I know it, the honk-honk guy has won--I think his name is Dev. He notices me staring, winks and curtsies in my direction.

“If it isn’t our alluring leader honk-honk--Elodie,” he drawls. Elie snaps his head in the guy’s direction, all the previous mirth drained from his face. And it is then I remember why the eleven of us are gathered in the auditorium.