Our Contract of Distrust

-- 6 --

As I tie the factory apron around my waist I register that there's a dull ache at the back of my head. It feels like the makings of a headache.

Maybe I'm getting sick. Which would be bad. They don't look kindly upon contamination, but I can't afford to take time off work.

If it's just a headache no one needs to know about it.

I shut the rusty locker and get a fright when I see Milly out of the corner of my eye. She's sitting on the room's only bench seat, staring at her fingers. She looks uncharacteristically pensive.

"Milly, what is it? You need to hurry up or you'll be late."

"Yeah," she answers absently, "Just wondering whether I should paint my nails."

I didn't understand why anyone would waste money on nail polish, but it was their choice. However, something about the way she said it implied her motive involved more than just superficial materialism.

"What's happened?" I ask.

"My nails keep getting darker. See, look," she holds a hand up for me, "this dark pink isn't normal is it?"

"It's probably just the lighting in here."

She grabs hold of my hand and briefly studies it. Then she turns her eyes up to mine.

"It's not."

I have a strong desire to yank my hand away. But Milly's something like a friend, and that would be rude.

"Still, I wouldn't worry about it too much. Come on, we'll be late."

She's obviously not satisfied with my answer, but she releases my hand and rises from her seat regardless.

I can't help but study my fingernails as I make my way to my spot. They look normal, right? It's not like working at the factory was poisoning us. That couldn't be the case, right?

____________________________

Milly approaches as I remove my work bonnet.

"Amanda, she sits next to me you know, she said that she noticed her nails also get a bit darker. She thinks it might be a sign of deficiency. You know, like an iron deficiency or something."

"It must be because you don't eat enough vegetables." Cassie cuts in.

Milly pouts overtly. "I do too eat vegetables."

"Enough vegetables." Annamia emphasises.

"You guys are always picking on me, right Nadia?"

"Your friend..." I begin.

"Amanda? What about her?"

"She's a natural?"

"No, I'm pretty sure she's a semi-natural like me. Why?"

For some reason it tugged away at me; whether or not she was a full natural.

"Oh, I was just wondering whether that many semi-naturals even work at the factory." I say.

"My whole row is mostly semi's, you know? We play chain message games to relieve the boredom you know. You have to remember all of what the last person said and add your own details to the list as you pass it along. Things like hair colour, whether you're married, whether you're a natural or semi, and so on. It can be pretty hard, but it's fun. I feel like I sorta know all the people in my row now."

Milly continues to chatter about her experiences with the 'chain game' but my mind wanders.

Did nails change colour because of dietary deficiencies? I supposed it wasn't impossible, it's not like I knew much about human biology after all.