Mimic [ON HOLD]

Chapter Two: Settle

In the elevator, I stood next to a girl in a black hoodie with cropped red-brown hair.

"OMG! We have the same shoes!" she exclaimed, gesturing to her beaten-up black ballet flats.

"Oh," I replied dumbly, looking down at my feet. I didn't even remember putting any shoes on when I left, but it was true. My shoes were identical, down to the little orange stain on the big toe. Must have been from Sonya's daughter. "Cool."

That's when I noticed the girl's bracelet. It was made out of red and orange friendship thread, the type that was one-of-a-kind and clearly handmade. I looked down at my wrist, and sure enough, I had an identical bracelet. Okay. That couldn't be a coincidence. What was happening? My heart started beating a bit faster as I offhandedly watched the other girl study the buttons on the wall. She can't find out, I thought. She'll tell the doctors and they will lock me up in a mental ward, and I will never, EVER, get out of this hospital and find my family. How long is this elevator ride anyway?

Suddenly, the metal doors slid open. I hurried out, much to the confusion of my elevator-mate. As I fled, I noticed for the first time the red streaks forming in my hair.

"No, go away!" I hissed, frantically clawing through my mane of rapidly-reddening brown hair. I hoisted the bag of clothes over my shoulder as I ran, hunched over, down the hall. I hoped in vain that no one would notice my sudden highlights, but as I arrived in the atrium of the Aulton General Hospital, I knew it was too late. I skidded to a stop in front of a group of adults.

"Ah, Anya," a tall man said, trying to remain dignified in the face of my peculiar entrance. It was the doctor from upstairs. "Please meet Mr. and Mrs. Bisset."

I looked over at the other two strangers. The woman was squat and sturdy, and had long black hair in a wispy braid, with kind eyes but a harsh smile. The man was rather thin and bookish, with a wide smile and darting eyes peeking out from horn-rimmed glasses . They didn't look at all like me, dashing my irrational hope that they were somehow my real family.

"Good to meet you," Mr. Bisset said in a clipped French accent, offering a small nod of his head. Mrs. Bisset shook my hand.

"Good to meet you too," I replied, with what I hoped was a careless grin. It felt more like a pained gesture.

"They live just outside town, near Broxton Mill. They will care for you until we can find your folks. It should only be a few days; after all, they're bound to come looking for you."

With that short speech, the tall doctor patted my shoulder. I looked up at him briefly, then back at my feet. Did I grow? The ground seemed farther away. I glanced at my foster family but they didn't look alarmed at my sudden height difference. The four of us stood in awkward silence for a little while.

"Well. We must go," Mrs. Bisset said, and that settled the matter. I hauled my bulging bag of clothes (which really wouldn't have been bulging if it weren't for my huge ballgown) and followed the Bissets to the car. Due to their French-ness and regal posture, I half expected them to own a limosine. The car awaiting us was a black punch buggy that looked right out of a silent film: not that I could ever recall seeing one before. I stepped into the backseat and placed my bag on the other seat. The Bissets took their positions in the front. With a rumble that sounded a little ominous, the car took off.

It was a fairly silent car ride. I gazed out the window as Mrs. Bisset drove downtown. I surprised myself by intuitively knowing where we were. It was like a map ingrained in my mind, but it only revealed what the labels were when I was at the location. I tried desperately to figure out any locations that seemed familiar to me, but all I could name were the streets we passed. Nathaniel Square, Worthington Street, Renford Hall... they all came into my mind unbidden. I vaguely knew that this navigation ability was beyond what a regular human could do, but with all I'd lost and forgotten, it was hardly the worst of my problems. I started to get a headache with all the place names popping into my brain at every crossroad. It was sweet relief when we arrived at the Bisset's farmhouse.