WICKED told them the Trial was over -no more tests, no more lies, but Frankie had been deceived enough to know that the statement alone could never be true.
Truthfully, she wanted to die. She wanted to leave this cruel world of being experimented an...
"Wait!" Frankie exclaimed, a laughter bubbled out of her lips as she gave finishing touches to her artwork.
She didn't have her orthosis on. Instead, she was carried on Minho's back with a chisel in hand. He didn't stop complaining as she took her time to make sure that every line was neat and correct.
"Okay, I'm done."
Minho groaned and fell down onto his butt, letting his grip on her go so she was sitting behind his back.
"I'm bruised all over, that's why!" Minho retorted back, "I can carry this slinthead all day."
Then, just to prove his point, he pulled her hands, secured them around his neck, and carried her on a piggy back again.
"It's ready!" Gally hollered, "Take them yourselves!"
"Minho, let me down—"
"Nope!" He skipped his way towards the picnic table, where Gally, Frypan, and their few subordinates had distributed the weird alcoholic beverage into rows and rows of glasses.
Minho handed Frankie a glass before taking one himself. The drink tasted a little bit different; it was more bitter and less sweet (probably because they don't have the exact ingredients out here).
But it still caused the same burning sensation to slither down to the pit of their stomach, and they both exhaled.
"Don't tell Gally," Frankie whispered into Minho's ear, "But I miss this drink."
"Me, too," Minho whispered back.
"One bloody glass, Minho," Newt chuckled warningly as he passed by with Jorge, "I'm not havin' a drunk leader in the meeting tomorrow."
"Whatever you say, shuckface."
Frankie placed her chin on his shoulder and took a long look on the village's brand new masterpiece —it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A natural rock, standing eight feet tall in the center of their residence.
The flickering ember from this month's campfire gave a sense of aliveness into it —highlighting every engraved name of the fallen ones. Remembering them still hurt, but she could smile sincerely at those memories now.
Alby;
Chuck;
Winston;
Nick;
Ben;
Zart;
Marc;
Doug;
Jeff;
Teresa;
Along with a bunch of names she knew and didn't know.
And right there, a few inches above George's,
REGGIE (WILL) —a masterpiece.
She carved it herself.
〰️
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〰️
"YOUR NAME'S FRANCES now. I won't say it again, okay, this is the last time."
Marla kicked her feet with a pout. She didn't like her new name. It sounded... so girly.
"Where's Mum? And Marvel?"
"They are... not here. You are a big girl, now. You can live without them," The doctor stood up from her seat, "Come on, I'll show you to your dormitory."
She glanced up reluctantly, but she knew that she couldn't stay in this creepy room forever. The doctor smiled sweetly at her and she hopped off her chair, tailing after her.
When she exited her room into the hallway, the door on her right clicked open and out came another woman in another WICKED's lab coat, followed by the neighbor boy.
He was now clad in the same white polo shirt as hers, and he was also frowning deeply.
"Let's go," her caretaker said. The four of them began walking.
"She said I have a new name," the boy whispered to Marla, "Do you?"
"Yes. I'm Frances now."
"I'm Minho. What kind of name is Minho?" He made a face, to which she only shrugged.
"I think it's Asian. My father's Asian, but my mother's American," he paused, then made a face again, "I don't like the name."
They reached the end of the hallway and halted at the center of a T-junction.
"Say your goodbye, now," one of the doctors said, "You won't be meeting each other again."
"Why?" Marla asked, looking up. "Why won't we meet again?"
"Because you're placed in different groups. You will be with the girls and he will be with the boys."
'Frances' looked one last time at 'Minho' —his dimpled round face, slanted eyes, and jet black hair.
She didn't know him that well, but he was still someone she knew. It would make her feel better to walk into the unknown with him.
She kicked on the ground, "Bye, then."
"Bye-bye."
"I think Mike suits you better."
"Thank you!" Mike-now-Minho exclaimed, "Frances feels weird, too. I like Marla."
