Chosen

Chapter 21

I inconspicuously stretch my arms, sneaking a glance at the laundry supervisor. Laundry is too big of a job to be handled by the chore rotation, but it's also too much to do for one person. Ergo, one permanent laundry supervisor who handles the washing, a chore rotation for sorting and folding. I've been put on folding duty tonight, which is one of my least favorite chores, especially after a frustrating day of training with Norman. It's also a lot more difficult to do with just one person, specifically when you're trying to fold sheets and blankets.

The supervisor is busy, stirring sheets around in a giant vat of boiling water and fishing them out one by one with a wide metal hook, so I stretch for a few more seconds before turning my attention back to the huge pile of towels in front of me. I yanked several dozen of them off the drying lines first, and am now folding and sorting them according to size. At least towels are easy. Shirts are the most difficult, trying to keep wrinkles out of the sleeves.

Across the room, the laundry supervisor swears under her breath as some hot water splashes her shoe. Her dark brown hair is twisted in a messy knot and frizzy from the steam emanating from the vats, her face sallow with pink splotches across her cheeks. She's the kind of woman where you can tell that she must have been beautiful when she was younger, but to whom life has not been kind.

She also happens to be Celia's mother.

I'm sure that's the reason I'm here instead of mopping the hallways or scrubbing furniture, just another not so subtle reminder that Celia has taken my place, that Crane can direct my life as he pleases.

"Audrey, how're those old sheets coming, ready for me to hem yet?" Mabel, the quick-witted, no-nonsense sewing lead pokes her head around the corner.

"Not yet. They'll be dry by morning," Audrey says curtly, looking irritated at the interruption.

"Alright, just checking," Mabel shakes her head, then spots me in the corner. "Hey, Elia, how are things?" She grins at me. 

"Oh you know, keeping busy," I grin back. I've always liked Mabel. She's been good friends with my grandmother for as long as I can remember. They're like two peas in a pod when they get together. She never lets anything bother her. She's also incredibly kindhearted, and makes little rag dolls out of fabric scraps too small to be useful for the kids here.

"A little birdie tells me you're doing just wonderfully over there in tech," she winks at me.

"I don't think I've ever heard of Norman referred to as a 'little birdie,' but okay, I guess I can see that," I tease.

Mabel lets out a guffaw. "Norman is Norman is Norman, he'll never be anything else! Wallis is your chirper in this case."

"Oh!" I'm a little surprised, but grateful. "Well, that's nice of him."

"Listen to you, always too modest. Never met a smarter, funnier girl who didn't know how smart and funny she was."

"Um..." I flush, embarrassed.

"Oh, relax, I'll keep your secret," Mabel laughs. "See you around, Elia!" She ducks back out of the room.

I fold a couple more towels in silence. Mabel is one of the few who has seen my humorous side, since she used to visit with Juniper and I in the evenings sometimes. I didn't think it came out that much though. And as far as smart goes, I've always felt that was more due to working hard than anything else. More than anything, compliments just make me uncomfortable.

"You shouldn't pull down as many towels at once, they'll wrinkle," Audrey barks at me, suddenly over my shoulder. Now here's someone I can count on to never ever give me a compliment.