The Rebellion Era

Chapter Twelve.

"So how to wake sleeping beauty up if her prince is sleeping too?" Michael asks, his voice emanating nothing but boredom. If I am to be able to flutter my eyes open, I am certain I would see his eyes rolling.

Raneem shouts something nasty at me. It might be my name - with an insult garnishing it. The sunlight kindles the underneath of my eyelids like scorching embers entombed within. With the second wave of insults Raneem directs at me, I wrench myself up instantly, propelling Assem's slender arm from its stillness to the grassy ground. I look around in haste caution, trying to calculate how big the trouble I am in.

"Good morning, sunshine."

I flit my squinted eyes upwards. Raneem hovers above me, her lips tilted in a smile. Her deep dark eyes appear to be dancing with amusement, vouching for a big trouble ahead.

Assem still sleeps with one of his arms thrown across his forehead. His back is perched on the stool with the rest of his trunk and body strewn on the ground. His jacket is unzipped, revealing the creased shirt underneath with blots of sweat. I glance at the bonfire. The wood sits still amid the grass, black where the fire had been and not even a smear of smoke rises skywards. Dazed, I wondered how Assem managed to sweat fireless and with an open jacket through the cold. I find the answer in Michael's chuckle, however. When I notice, his face goes dead still. Beyond him, the sky is slit with white scars and I instantly recall glimpses of a falling star. I curse inwardly, as I remember how last night ended.

"Are we in trouble?"

"Oh, you are damned souls, hopeless romantics." Raneem chuckles, squaring her arms against her chest and thrusting her hip to the side.

"This depends on Tariq's mood as a matter of fact." Michael cuts me off before I could retort. We are not romantics. And perhaps if we are, we are surely not hopeless. "The other day someone broke the rules and Tariq intimidated them into handing themselves over to the government. But most of the time he just have outlaws do the Base chores entirely for two months."

"Entirely?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Cooking the three meals, dusting off Windows, sweeping off the floor, washing the dishes of 200+ people, laundry and of course let's not forget cleaning more than 50 toilets." Raneem elaborates, counting on her nicely trimmed nails.

"All because we broke one rule?!"

"Four. You exited the Base during night hours, spent a night out of the Base's premises, indecorous affairs, and slumbering beyond 6 am."

"What, is this school?"

"It's definitely not your father's lake house."

She retains her slouching composure. She is more relaxed now I am in trouble than she would be after she walks out of a protest alive. I am fazed not by the fact I don't know how have I wronged her to deserve such feelings, but how could someone be capable of so much disdain?  I have already broken four rules in my first night. If by magic Tariq pardons me, I will break one more rule and escape this inferno. 

Someone shoves the door open with so much forces it hits the limit and bounces back. "Found them?!" Sarah practically screams, materializing through the open door. "Tariq won't like this! At all! And why is he still sleeping?" She points at Assem.

Raneem pokes him with a thin wooden stick she produced until he opens his eyes.

"What is going -"