Colourless

Chapter Ten

After much debate, I finally decide on the only white thing in the closet — a modest chiffon blouse — which I tuck loosely into a sleek black pencil skirt. With Aria's red scarf tied around my neck like a flight attendant and a pair of black pumps on my feet, I examine the outfit in a tall mirror; ultimately deciding that, considering the tumultuous events of the last few days, that I looked pretty fabulous.

"One second," I call, pulling the hairbrush from my bags and raking it through my subtly knotted hair. Brushing my curls into a detangled but frizzy mess, I hurriedly draw the dark locks back into simple braid — tugging a few pieces free to frame my face. "Good?" I pant, doing a small spin.

"Unspeakably fabulous." Malik smiles toothily, causing a blush to threaten to rise.

I then clear my throat, making sure my silver necklace is secure around my neck, before accepting a room key from Malik and dragging him into the hallway.

"You!" I spin around, catching a blonde-haired-blue-eyed woman staring at my intently.

"Me?" I reply unsurely, watching as the significantly shorter woman shuffles towards me.

"Gorgeous outfit, perfect hair," she compliments, speaking to herself more than me, before ushering me closer. "You need to help me with an outfit!" She grins, leaving no room for objection as she drags me by the arm into her room. "Oh, I'm Ellie by the way!"

"Pearl," I reply with a small, yet unsure, smile.

"Oh, right, sorry. That was probably a little weird... right?" Ellie sighs, opening the door to her room just down the hall from mine.

"Pfft," I scoff, attempting to brush off her worry, "No. Not at— yeah, a little bit."

Ellie sighs, "I'm sorry. Things have just been a little... you know."

"Hectic?" I supply, offering a small smile when she nods glumly,

"Yeah," she hums, "Definitely a little hectic lately."

With I smile, I slip past her and inspect her closet — finding a similar layout to my own. With a hum, I pull out a long-sleeved black dress and matching ballet flats, before turning back towards Ellie. "You can never go wrong with a little black dress."

Ellie smiled gratefully, murmuring a thank you as I hand her the dress and shoes. "I'll save you a seat," I promise, slipping past Ellie so that she can change.

"Thank you, Pearl. Seriously." Ellie returns my wave with her own as I step out into the hall, closing the door behind me.

"Look at you," Malik cooes, "Making friends."

Rolling my eyes, I playfully shove Malik before he offers the crook of his elbow. "Come on, asshole, let's go."

***

The 'meeting' room was like something from a movie set in a stereotypical corporate office. With a large, oval table stationed in the center with what looked like fifty desk chairs tucked beneath it. Tactical plans were laid out on an electronic whiteboard and I read over them as I took a seat — farewelling Malik as he murmured that he'd be right back.

"Be nice to the kiddies," he smirks, patting my shoulder before departing — not allowing me enough time to think of a retort.

Collapsing unceremoniously into the chair next to me, I blink as the young man attempts to catch his breath. "I'm not late," he breathes, "Thank the gods." His accent was thick and foreign, and I suspected it was European. Though, that wouldn't explain why he was here.

"Your buttons are wrong," I murmur, earning a confused stare. I sigh, pointing to the buttons that were slid into the wrong designated holes. "Your shirt. You've got the buttons in the wrong spots."

The man groans, undoing every button and swiftly rebuttoning them before anyone else could catch a glimpse of his olive-toned chest. "Thanks... I'm Charles Beaumont."

"Pearl," I nod. "French, right?"

"Oui," he grins, "But my family and I moved here, like, a year ago." My mouth forms an 'o' as I nod understandingly.

"I hear it's beautiful," I acknowledge, rocking back in my seat. Charles chuckles.

"It's freaking expensive, that's what it is."

I laugh, almost missing the small flurry of people who come in, until I have to tell someone the seat beside me is saved. As if heading me, Ellie then stumbled over to me — gratefully sliding into the seat and sweeping her straightened hair to the side. "Thanks," she smiles gratefully, squeezing my forearm under the table.

Charles waves, introducing himself and fixing his disheveled black hair. "Do you know what this is all about, anyway?" He whispers, leaning in close to avoid others hearing our conversation, "This meeting, I mean."

"Maybe it's like an orientation, or something?" I shrug, the corners of my lips downturning in thought. "I'm not really sure."

Ellie hums in agreement, "Maybe they're telling us where the hell we are. It was like a maze to get here."

"And maybe what the stakes are for now that we're practically fugitives," I continue, "We are kind of joining a rebel group because it's the best alternative to death." Before we can continue our debate, the last few people trickle in and the lights dim.

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, to The Silver Helena Institute for Clear Bloods." Laria seems to materialize from thin air, along with a couple other adults, and she steps to the head of the table. "You all have been very lucky to make it this far; many have fallen in the process of getting from the city to here."

"Great pep talk," Charles murmurs uncomfortably, before immediately being shushed by Ellie.

"Here, we teach you all of the necessary skills to succeed. Linguistics, mathematics, self-defense and athleticism," Laria briefly pauses, "If you haven't noticed already, our government is corrupt with narcissistic fascists. Their rulings lingers on a dangerous line; a thin fabric that they perceive could break if any outliers are implemented into their algorithm.

"Being clear-blooded is a recessive genetic change; maybe your parents had it, or your grandparents, maybe even your now siblings. But, it can mean so much more. Blood-type should have no hand in our societies fragile ecosystem, so we should have the ability to go out into the world and promote a message of compassion and equality. That is what we stand for here."

Ellie beams, beginning to applaud Laria's inspirational words, and soon the clapping sparks amongst everyone in the room. Almost instinctively, my eyes find their way to Malik's and he throws me a wink as I continue to clap — thankful that he would no longer be able to identify my blushing.

"We should do something," Charles murmurs only to me, "Find a way in, convince them that we mean business."

Ellie once again leans over, not hearing Charles' proposal, and she smirks, "So, in summary, she just confirmed that we have the fab gene."