Stealing Perfection

Chapter 2

We all exit the central control room and it is quiet in the main room. Everyone is watching us, wondering what has happened. No one speaks.

I jump as I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn. It is Ren. He ushers Lance and me back into an empty hallway, and pulls us in close. There is centimeters between all of us. I can feel Lance's breath tickling next to my ear.

"I need to meet up with you two sometime within the next couple of days." He says.

"I'm free right now." I say just as Lance mutters, "I'm scheduled in the armory."

"Great.." Ren grumbles, and sighes.

"Tomorrow night is fine for me." Lance says, and I nod in agreement. "Is eleven okay?"

"Yeah sure." Ren says, and hurries off. He looks ticked, and rushed like he didn't have time to even speak with us. Probably mission planning stress.

"What's his problem?" I generally ask, not expecting Lance to answer. Instead, he turns his head and stares at me. Chills run up my spine.

"Maybe a seventeen year old girl is putting his mission in possible jeopardy." He hisses, a startling look in his eyes I haven't seen before. It crosses somewhere on the border of amusement, and sharpness.

"What are you talking about?!" I snap. "I haven't even done anything yet, why is everyone thinking I'll screw up on this?" He continues to stare in my eyes, and I keep my own locked on his. We stare at each other in silent, and I notice the dark copper ring around the pupils of his golden eyes. My heart is thumping against my chest with every second, because we are alone, in a hallway. My head is spinning. He doesn't break his glare until his expression softens, and a pretentious smile is plastered on his face.

"Maybe it's because you're a juvenile little girl." He whispers, barely audible, and flicks a piece of hair resting on my shoulder before walking past me. Once frozen at his touch, I now turn to him to see his back, walking away without giving me a second thought.

The air is icy cold when I step outside. I immediately shiver, and close the door softly behind me. Stealthily, I sneak away from the building, dash through the street, and push through the brush until I reach the place that is considered my home.

The house is not lit, but I would not expect it to be. Everyone is asleep, the lights all turn off at ten o'clock. It is close to one thirty now. I rub the sleep out of my sticky eyes and stifle a yawn before stepping out from the willow tree in my backyard. I silently run to the oak tree next to my bedroom window, and jump onto the lowest branch. Grabbing the branches with a tight grip, I haul myself higher and higher until I am level with the second floor. I stand up on the branch, and tiptoe out to the narrowest length before reaching out and swinging myself onto the window ledge. The window is still left open only about a foot, and I slide myself under the glass.

My room is pitch black. I feel my way across the room and to my bed, where my pajamas lay under the blanket. The soft silk is soon sitting on my skin and I crawl under the covers, aching for rest. The second my head hits the pillow I am out.

I pry my eyes open to the sound of my alarm blaring. I turn it off, and roll over on my left side.

My walls are cream. The nightstand next to my bed is black birch, the only thing placed on top is the alarm clock. My closet is lined with shirts, sweaters, jackets, and pants. I have a few pairs of combat boots, and several casual shoes for everyday wearing around the city.

I throw the covers off my freezing body and struggle to pull myself out of the warm, comfy bed. Once I stand, I stretch my arms over my head and touch my toes to get the blood flowing in my body. After quickly undressing, I throw my clothes into a hamper and rack through my closet for something to wear. I pick out one of my usual outfits, a white under shirt, brown leather jacket, and blue skinny jeans. I pull on my clothes, twist my hair into a braid, and tie on my sneakers.