Grace Feckterhight

Chapter Eight

I retold Chief's story of the Colored. Every beautiful detail I could remember, every vivid scene that was burned into my mind. I used my voice to emphasise, my tone to express. It took a lot to tell the story the way that Chief did, so I tried my best.

    Dix looked at me in wonder, his eyes wide at my words. He became entranced when I described what Riedhak was before Kista, before the humans took over.

    I took the time to look at him. And I mean, down to the details of his clothing. His perfectly tanned skin, his eyes of swirling dark colors. His dark caramel hair, with its vibrantly dyed ends. They fell loosely around his face in a dangerous and attractive way. His spark of red, down to the edge of his shirt. It was a loose dark gray t-shirt, with its ends dyed. His black sporty bottoms, lined in red, of course.

    My gaze shifted to his eyes. With a closer look I realized just how gray they were.

    "Feckter?"

    "Yes? Sorry.. what?"

    "So, what does all of this mean? What does this have to do with you?" He looked at me, and we locked eyes for a moment.

    I took a deep breath, and noticed in my peripheral vision that our hands were mere inches apart. "Dix.. Do you remember the part I mentioned? The one about how the Colored began to blend in with society?"

    He took a sharp inhale, the truth hitting him. He looked up and held my line of sight. "You mean..?"

    "Braz. I'm part-Colored."

    He froze in a state of shock, his mouth hung open in the shape of an O.

    He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me. "It makes you even more amazing. I didn't even know that was possible. You keep surprising me."

    I smiled, looking downwards. His affection made me blush.

    He sat back, his eyes never leaving my face. We gazed at each other for a minute.

    Then I remembered something important. "I've been thinking.. Could the reason that your paint worked on my legs be that I'm part-Colored? Or is it something more?"
    "What if..?" I started, hoping he'd guess what I was getting at.

    "What if I'm part-Colored?" He breathed, staring at nothing.

    "What if we went to my dorm to find out?"

    Dix snapped with realization, shifting his weight to stand. "Your paint bucket!"

    I nodded, and attempted to stand. We'd been sitting on his black fuzzy rug in the middle of his room.

    For the first time in a few days, I stood with no pain. I warily stood on both feet, then smiled up at him.

    "Yes!" Dixter cheered.

    I breathed a sigh of relief. I was free from pain, at least for now. His tropical red crab had done me wonders. "Now I can go on missions again."

    Braz put on a pouty face. It reminded me of a sad puppy. "You won't go without me, will you?"

    "Of course not. Not with my partner-in-crime in an arm cast."

"But I'm more than that, right?"

I grabbed his good hand, making him face me directly. "You are so much more than that, Dixter.

"You're my best friend." I snickered, looking up at his face. We were inches apart.

"More than that?" He pleaded with his sad puppy eyes.