Project Meyburn

10

Megan

"You can have these, okay? Well, not have, obviously, but I guess you can wear them until further notice." I handed Amber one of my many pairs of earrings that I had brought with me. My surplus of toiletries and accessories were strewn about the bathroom counter, jewelry on one side, and makeup on the other. The rest of the girls were still asleep, and Amber and I had woken up surprisingly early despite the emotional exhaustion following last night's reunion. Soon after we dragged ourselves out of the steel bunk beds that we were apparently expected to sleep in, we decided—well technically I decided— that nothing quite says "happy to be surviving the end of the world" like a makeover. So we locked ourselves in the bathroom. "Oh my gosh Amber, those go perfectly with your eyes!"

She snorted, "Uh...thanks?" Amber was blessed with golden-hazel eyes that were framed with long dark lashes. They stood out against her slightly tanned skin and light brown hair.

I reached over to the countertop that was absolutely covered in all kinds of cosmetics and grabbed a lipstick that I thought would look fabulous on Amber. As I unscrewed the lid and handed it to Amber for her to apply it we locked eyes and fell into silence for a minute before bursting into a roaring, completely obnoxious laughter.

"There's no way in hell I'm wearing this," she laughed. Amber held the lipstick in front of her face, staring it down before closing it and setting it back on the counter. She did put the earrings on, though.

"Good God, Amber, it's lipstick! I promise it will not kill you. Just because the world as we know it has gone to shit, does not mean that we have to look like savages who live in the woods with no personal hygiene."

She rolled her eyes. "True, true, but I don't particularly feel like drawing attention to myself in this place."

I fought the urge to whine like a five-year-old at Amber's typical anti-social attitude. "Why not? There have got to be tons of cute, single guys here who would just love to have a beautiful chick like you...comfort them," I teased, smirking like a fiend.

Amber rummaged through one of my bags and pulled out a hair tie, quickly pulling her hair into a tiny messy bun. She coughed. "Hah, uh, no thank you. But right now I would really love some breakfast; can we go now?"

"Very well, we can scope out our options in the mess hall." I winked at Amber playfully, knowing that the subject of boys and relationships was one she was unbearably uncomfortable with.

We collected our supplies and shoved everything back into one of my duffel bags, all of it barely fitting, and I groaned at the idea of having to open that bag again later today.

We unlocked the bathroom door only to be welcomed by a line of cranky girls outside. Before I could say one word, Amber grabbed my arm and we ran.

⇔

Amber

My stomach grumbled as Megan and I made our way into the mess hall. All kinds of smells wafted around us, sadly reminding me of family brunches at my grandma's house. Various cereals, toasts, and yogurts lined a set of tables on one side of the room. There were bowls upon bowls of dried fruits and nuts, and the smell of scrambled eggs and bacon floated up from multiple chafing dishes in the middle of the table.

"Hot damn. Where did they get all this?"

I shook my head in wonder, mirroring Megan's surprise. This was a lot of food. And it made sense, don't get me wrong, but how the government managed to cultivate this much grub in a matter of days just blew me away, unless it was like this for them all the time.

Similar to the night before, the children and teens sat at tables and on the floor, forming their own groups and cliques. It ironically reminded me of school. Albeit a much more depressing version. I recognized a few girls from our dorm, chatting at a table near one of the corners of the room. The girl who occupied the bunk next to mine, Morgan—I found out her name this morning—sat on top of the table with her legs crossed, reading the same book from last night. The room was positively packed; there weren't enough tables for every kid to sit at, and already there were groups of kids sitting on the ground and along the walls.

Megan and I made our way to the buffet line, dodging a herd of kids playing tag. I grabbed a paper plate and handed a second one to Megan, who nodded her thanks. I immediately went for the dried fruit, shoveling spoonfuls of strawberries, apricots, peaches, and bananas onto my plate. I snatched a piece of toast as well and stood next to Megan as she made her selections.

After her plate was filled with toast, bacon, dried peaches, and a small styrofoam cup of cereal we made our way to the end of the table, where what appeared to be a cook of some kind passed out drinks. The man's attire consisted of a standard army uniform, a crisp white apron, and a light blue medical mask that covered his nose and mouth.

My brows furrowed at the lack of coffee being served. "Seriously. No coffee? Don't they know that coffee is essentially the lifeblood of teenagers?"

Megan sighed heavily, "I know. Shame on them. But they'll realize sooner or later when they have about two hundred pissed off adolescents roaming the halls."

We gathered our belongings and strolled back towards Morgan and our bunkmates. Enthralled with her novel, Morgan gave nothing but a quick glance in our direction as we sat down on the floor by the table, our backs against the concrete wall. Megan immediately began devouring her food as my gaze travelled around the mess hall, taking in what would undoubtedly be our lives for the next few months.

I began chewing on a dried apricot just as a group of obnoxiously loud boys stormed in. I guess it's good to see that some things haven't changed a bit. My head shot up as the guys practically wrestled their way to the buffet line, but my eyes lingered on a singular figure hovering behind the rest. He was chatting with two of the other dudes, but didn't partake in any of the roughhousing. He was fairly tall and extremely skinny, like a beanstalk. His pale blond hair reached the tips of his ears and as he turned away from his friends with a smile stretched across his mouth, I immediately recognized his face. A face that Megan, Evie, and I had known since we were seven years old.