Altered

Fifty-Four: Making Plans

Dinner was served in their rooms the next evening, the evening of Matt’s departure. Charlotte sat on the threshold of her door silently picking at the plate of cold meats and cheese that had been presented to them. James sat opposite her, in the shadow of his own door, chewing his food in painful silence. Their internment had stretched through the night and into the following day. Charlotte was finding it difficult to control her alteration, a fact she put down to her own increased stressed and the palpable anxiety exuding from James.

She had apologised for her behaviour the day earlier, told him that his fear had caught her off guard, that she had control now, but her control was weak, a thin veil over a growing menace inside her. He was constantly checking his watch irritably, a strange new habit he had developed, as if they knew what time they were going to be released at. Charlotte was trying not to say anything, but it was obvious time didn’t matter anymore. Until the ship left they would be confined to their rooms.

“Dinner’s not too bad,” she muttered, trying to make conversation. “Considering it was hauled up through the school”.

“Its cold meat and cheese, Charlotte,” James sighed. “What could they have done to get it wrong?”

Charlotte bit her lip, deciding she was finished with her food, pushing it with her foot back into the hallway. “I have said sorry James – I was pushing you away to make sure I didn’t hurt you. You know I don’t really feel like that. How long more are you going to be in this mood for?” she breathed, a little exasperated.

James glanced up, his green eyes wide and wounded. “Charlotte, I’m not annoyed about that – I’ve told you that,” he replied, losing interest in what remained of his food too.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me? I can’t understand it,” she mumbled crossly.

“It’s nothing you did,” he smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think I’m just getting tired being cooped up inside”.

“The ship will have left soon,” she offered, trying to cheer him up. “Tomorrow will be completely different”. He nodded tightly, glancing at his watch again.

“Soon – yes,” he exhaled. Charlotte sighed, deciding it would be best to distract him.

“We could go on a run tomorrow – up The Mountain, maybe,” she suggested, trying to lighten the mood. James stared at her a moment before nodding slowly, as if not really comprehending her. “Are you worried I will beat you to the top?” she smiled, hoping he would relax. He forced a grin, a false grin, but at least he was trying.

“Maybe we could bring a picnic?” he suggested, a soft, but genuine smile on his face. Charlotte felt her stomach somersault with a weird rush of happy emotions, feeling childishly giddy at the idea.

“That sounds…” she smiled shaking her head. “Have I told you how charming you can be sometimes?” she teased.

He sighed turning so he was propped against the doorframe. “Sometimes? I was always charming Owens – you just refused to see it, refused to succumb to those charms,” he said winking at her.

“Yes – I do believe it was you who succumbed to my charms in the end, Mr Alexander. Your will is far weaker than mine it would seem,” she grinned, her eyes dancing happily, glad at his change of mood, though deep down she knew it was just a show, a show for her.

“My will?” he asked, with a mock outraged face. “I am a student of Kingston Academy,” he grinned. “My will has been genetically engineered from hard, cold steel”.

“Yes – I do believe we are the same make and model,” she nodded pursing her lips. “But perhaps it took a special, winning champion to finally breakdown your walls”. James smiled, his head resting lazily against the doorframe.