Godspeed

9# The Storm Before the Storm

NEXT MORNING WAS pretty similar to yesterday. Got up, stared at my surroundings, looked at the unconscious Kristin, and left for food.

     Eating yet another chocolate croissant, I compared the two mornings out of boredom.

     This time, I woke up sweatless and questionless, I even had the luxury to feel groggy from not being scared into waking up. Though I still felt cold and was covered by goosebumps, it was most likely because the sun hadn't fully risen. I didn't check the clock but judging from the lighting from the sky, it was probably six.

     I never woke up this early, but my consciousness was too eager to know if I had dreamt about the dream lady and had woken me up the second it sensed day. I smiled to myself as I chewed on the croissant, no dream, no lady, no Greedapocalypse.

     The Main Hall was surprisingly still as crowded as yesterday, minus the band. As I sat and ate, more people filled the hall and it was steadily getting even louder.

     'George, you better watch your back!'

     'Right after I blow yours off!'

     'I'll be the one burning you!'

     It was very easy to notice that everyone was... excited for the game, one guy even got told off for throwing a slice of pizza at another dude. The chatter was more hectic and as more people filled the hall, more competitive talk and good lucks were exchanged.

     A giant clock hung on the wall behind the teachers' table struck the seven-hour mark. It is similar to the one in our room but black and white instead of the more colourful yellow and blue, although it took approximately five seconds after I stared at it for it to turn "colourful". Someone had thrown a cake at it.

     'REYNARD!' The tall SC girl I met yesterday bellowed very loudly that I could hear her yell from halfway across the hall at a person who was laughing maniacally and running out of the hall, 'THAT WAS MY BREAKFAST!'

     She sent a couple of fairies chasing him down the corridors, with the only sounds that I could hear being laughter (a few 'ouch') and the angry shrieks of fairies.

     I sipped the last bits of my apple juice, assessing the situation, yep, this place is chaotic and decided to leave to check on Kristin. If this is the calm before the storm, I don't know what the storm will be like. Entering the room, Kristin was still under blankets snoring. So deep in her sleep, her position reminded me of cats sleeping on their backs with her arms and legs spread out wildly like that.

     She was not kidding about me not being able to wake her up. After screaming in her ear, nudging and shaking, and even resorting to dropping my pillow on her face, her eyes remained closed and relaxed.

     She stirred and that was all.

     I might as well use my free time (free meaning not-knowing-what-to-do) for something useful, so, to the showers it is. The showers were your typical bathhouses with limestone and wooden planks for walls and concrete tiles for the floor. It was just as if it was never dry here, the high humidity hung in the air making it feel thick and the concrete had a gritty texture after constant exposure to water.

     They had little shower stalls or cubicles or whatever you call them, each with shelves of soap and shampoo, and after the talk about blowing up showerheads, I couldn't help but watch mine warily.

     Fun fact: I did not have a scar on my belly. One would think getting impaled would leave a mark, therefore either Faith's magic know-all papers were lying or I'm just built different.