The Inadequate Experiments: 1. White Noise [Rough Draft]

Part 1; Insanity - 7. Calliope Jackson

We had barely taken ten steps from the elevator when Estelle pounced on us, much to our dismay. As soon as I had noticed the look she had been giving us, my heart dropped into my stomach and my good mood was gone as quick as it came.

“The front page?!” She roared as we approached. “You should have more sense, Oliver.”

He opened his mouth to speak then closed it again.

Ignoring his warning to me to be careful around Estelle, I jumped in and answered for him. “What’s so bad about getting his photo on the front page?” I asked sharply.

Estelle turned to me, her eyes ablaze. “Nothing’s wrong with being on the front page, Miss Grey, but kissing in an elevator? On the front page?” She sighed exasperatedly. “What will I tell your mother, Oliver? What about your little sister? Do you want your little sister seeing that?”

“Estelle,” Oliver groaned, “my ‘little’ sister is fifteen-years-old! I’m sure if she had met her Soul Mate already she’d be doing the exact same thing!”

“What about your mother?!” She pressed.

“Well I’m sure she’s done it too.” he smirked.

Trying to hide my laughter, I took the liberty of looking around the room we stood in. The walls were stark white, and the exterior wall was all windows, looking out onto the New York skyline. My eyes scanned the view of skyscrapers I knew so well, most twisting and twirling around, a few straight up and down like the skyscrapers the Ancients used to build. The Empire State Building was the only skyscraper the Ancients built that was still standing. I remembered reading somewhere that it used to be the tallest, yet now the majority of buildings towered over the old building.

“You think this is funny, do you?” I heard Estelle snap at me, turning my attention back to her conversation with Oli.

“A little bit.” I admitted, an innocent smile forming around my lips.

“Listen to me here, girly,” she said sternly, staring daggers at me, “you be careful in this interview, or I swear on the Scientists, you’ll regret the day your mother and father decided to have kids. Let’s put it this way; don’t say anything you wouldn’t want your grandmother to hear.”

“I don’t have a grandmother, ma’am,” I mumbled. “Or a father.”

“Everyone has a father, Seraphina Grey.” Was all she said before stomping off towards a doorway on the other side of the room.

“Not me.” I muttered, looking down at the ground as Oli’s hand snaked around my waist and he showed me to the make-up rooms.

* * *

“Dear, oh, dear,” the make-up artist sighed, twisting a strand of my damp, messy hair around two of her fingers before dropping it again. “What on earth are we gonna do with you, sweetie?”

I sighed too, staring grudgingly at my reflection in the mirror in front of me. My ebony waves were more like ebony frizzles, sticking out at every angle possible. The little bit of make-up I had put on that morning before leaving the house was smudged all over my face, and I looked like a panda. I wondered idly how a little bit of rain could have done so much damage.

“I… Uh…” I didn’t know what to say. “Fix me up, hopefully; I look like a panda.”

The woman’s reflection in the mirror smiled at me, her hazel eyes gleaming. Her red hair was pulled back into a tight dancer’s bun, a singular strand falling down the side of her face where it had fallen out of a bobby pin. “I was thinking more of a racoon, but I guess there’s not much difference.” she waltzed over to a trolley by the doorway and grabbed a hairbrush. “I’m Cleo by the way.”