Have you ever heard “I Hate This Part” by the Pussycat Dolls? There’s this piece in the second stanza that reminds me of these past few weeks. “Everyday seven takes of the same old scene. Seems we’re bound by the laws of the same routine.” Because ever since that night, each day has been identical for me.
Every morning, I wake in time to escape Destiny’s bucket of freezing water. Every morning, I try my best to survive our run; I try not to breath too hard; I try to shrug it off like it’s nothing. Every morning, breathless, despite the effort, I launch into Destiny’s knife throwing lessons that she’s seems to enjoy. Covering my broken and battered skin, I make my way to the lunchroom with Destiny by my side.
Lunch is the only thing that differs. Some days it’s a couple pieces of stale bread with crumbly butter. Others, it’s a pack of cheese per person and a tiny can of cold soup. That’s rare though, because the spies barely get a chance to steal from the government’s food store. So mostly, it’s the stale bread that’s as hard to digest as rubber. After this, I joke to myself, I’ll never be insecure of my weight again. It’s cold in the shack we call a lunchroom. We squeeze in there all together. Destiny and I eat in silence.
Then it’s back to the same routine. Ever since Matt cut Destiny’s knife in half, he’s grudgingly agreed to give me lessons. Of course only after I told him I’d tell her who cut the knife and in which circumstances. He blushed furiously and bowed his head, muttering “fine” under his breath, so quietly I had to strain to hear it. I guess even the bigbad boy is afraid of Destiny. After these couple of weeks though, I starting to regret these lessons I’ve got myself into. Matt is a bulldozer.
“Strike harder!” he screams at me. “Spin and strike! Harder!”
“You’re standing right next to me. You don’t have to scream,” I breathe. I don’t think he’s heard me. I’m so out-of-breath and tired, I can barely hear myself.
“You are so weak!” he yells again. “Why did I ever agree to teach you!” he growls.
“Probably because I threatened to make Destiny separate your bones from your skin! Matthew Bradley, you are the most insensitive wart I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet!”
He drops his tense shoulders and gives me a quizzical look.
“Harry Potter?” he asks me.
“How’d you know?” we ask each other at the same time.
“How’d I know what?” I ask him.
“How’d you know I’m a Potterhead?” he asks me, all anger disappearing from his features.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t even think you’d get the reference.”
“So you’re a Potterhead too?”
“Are you kidding me!” It’s my turn to scream. “I’ve never cried harder in my life than when I read the last book! The Prince’s Tale KILLED me!” I tell him.
“I know!” He moans. “Ugh…I cried like a baby. Oh, and Fred too. The whole Great Hall death scene made me cry real hard. I had to quietly sob though; I’d wake my roommate and he’d ring my neck.” He chuckles at the thought.
“You…cried?” I ask him doubtfully.
“Yeah bro. George lost his second half and Remus and Tonks just had their son. Who wouldn’t cry?” He says matter-of-factly.
“I dunno. I just didn’t think you, of all people, would…you know…” I say awkwardly.
“I’m a human being you know,” He looks at me. The disgust in his eyes scares me a bit.
YOU ARE READING
Turned
Mystère / ThrillerVerolina Walburg is an innocent 14 year old girl. Except for the fact that she's now an orphan, living in the woods with other teenagers who are fighting for their lives. She must either kill or be killed by those who have Turned. But soon she finds...
