Protocol

Chapter 5

After nearly choking three times on my dinner, which consisted of fresh strawberries, roasted potatoes, and hot tomato soup, I decided to make up a good excuse to go to bed. I also think I was overloaded to see that real food actually exist.

My room is probably the size of my neighborhood and suddenly, the idea of home pulls me back to unanswered questions that still pounce against my thick skull.

I haven't met any of the chosen males yet. The girls were ushered to the back room as soon as the last of us were chosen, partly because a section of boys, friends of a girl who I think's name was Dixie (Dixie is a platinum blonde with pale, almost transparent skin and a black dress that seemed too big for her thin frame) were determined to take down the guards. Queen Gem herself, marched down the pathway and dragged a young man down the isle to shoot him in both the arms, then both the legs, and then the heart in front of an audience. To say Dixie is already traumatized, would be an understatement.

The fancy room is filled with fancy, gray, black, and white furniture. The moonlight spills in the room and lights up the right side of my face as I sit on the couch, eating more food than I knew existed and watching video of the boys' Protocol.

So I sit cross-legged on the velvet white couch that I don't mind staining, and eat some pink crispy things I found in the pantry.

The first boy's name is Ryun. He has curly red hair and freckles. When his name appears on the board behind Gem, he simply rolls his eyes, staying seated. Eventually they drag him to the stage. Well, that's a nice way to begin. At least the girls weren't just unlucky. On the screen, you can see nearly every detail. The next boy has dark skin and he's super tall. He towers over the guards and looks down on then in a way that seems weird.

A few more boys go before number seven. He holds his posture rigid as he abruptly pushes his chair out to walk to the stage. None of the guards bother trying to grab him. His ice blue eyes make him look as if he's refraining from freezing Gem alive. People call out to him as he walks up and he even makes a few stops to hug a few people. Specifically, he stops and moves through the female crowd to a crying girl and hugs her tightly.

A weakness, it looks like. I watch the girl, not him, as he walks up the ramp and takes his place near the left side of the stage. Her matching dark hair creates the idea of being related. Her brown, doey eyes make her look younger and her sobs fill the large room like the other girl's did. He doesn't cry, though. He smiles at her, tears rimming his eyes, as he walks off towards the stage. By that point, I would be crying in my room, only a couple yards from my sister's room.

I yearn to be with her, to help her get over grieving for Dad even though I suck at it. I wish  I were there with her, only if it's to make a comment about how much better looking I am than her, though I know it isn't true. And then she would laugh through her tears, wiping them on her dress like we both do when we cry and tell me I'm just full of myself. That's how I would help her through her crying times because I wasn't good at it, I was always more like Dad.
I miss her now.

I guess it never occurred to me that she could have been chosen with me. The thought of that makes me nervous and anxious, just thinking about it again. Cal was always so sweet compared to me. I would be out in the yard, pushing myself to lift more weights while she would be inside, nursing lost baby rabbits back into health. I have to admit, she was good at it. But through Gem's eyes, but no one "needs" her. My five year old self would argue, "but the bunnies do."

I like the feel of the silk nightgown the forced me in, even if I don't want to wear it. Silk seems too precious to put on a body with this many scars and battle wounds. It seems like something that would be better off just admired. After watching the final clip of the Boys' Protocol, I seem to gravitate towards the window. I watch as the shadow of leaves move under the wind's harsh command.

Ding. Ding.

It's nearly, I check the clock on the gray wall, ten o'clock at night. I can't imagine who would want to see me at this time. Cracking the door open a smudge, I look up to see an old man. He hold a small screen in his left hand and shows it to me, "This you?" It's an older picture of myself, my blonde hair is unkept and roams wildly in the wind as I grin widely at the camera. I hold a sunflower in the palm of my hand that, hands down, Cal handed me.

I find myself grinning right along with the old photo that captured better times in my life. I nod grimly at the man, wiping the smile quickly from my feauture. I shut the door a little more, not at first realizing that I had just opened it more. I looked skeptically at the old man. He wore thin rimmed glasses. The right glass was cracked subtly and both the lenses had a build up of grime. His front tooth was pushed forward, it looked like and his hair was just a white fuzz on top of a bald head. I was still skeptical.
He grinned, "Well, then. Training starts at five AM tomorrow morning!" I shake my head, "I'm sorry, what?" He smirks and for an old man, he looks rather boyish, "You heard me," he stayed clearly. I scoff, "And what if I didn't?" He laughs, "Well, you're just like they described." I squint my eyes at the old man getting on my nerves for reasons unknown. He seems to know what to say to get under my nerves.

He takes his glasses off to clean them with his shirt and points at my eyes, "Can you not see me now either?" I slam the door in his face, not in the mood to deal with a stubborn man's bullshit. The door seems to jiggle open and I stand back, pulling the silk material tighter around my wide frame. I take another step back, unsure if I'm willing to roundhouse kick an overweight seventy year old man.

When he pops his head in my temporary room, I slap him across the face and wait and see. Is he going to leave? After making a mental note that I need to toughen up and roundhouse kick him or something, I stand back roll my sleeves up, taking the stance for a fight.

His eyes widen, "Girl, I am old. I can promise I am only here to make sure you go to training in the morning."
I shut my eyes tightly, pointing at the door, "Can you just get out? I'm really not in any shape or form to argue with why you give a shit whether I make it through the simulation anyway." He huffs, having an internal debate, "Fine, but you better be at training in the morning. I only have one day with you and I think I got a good one this time."

Ignoring his comments, I push him out of the door and lean against the thick wood for support once I close and lock it. I let out a breath of relief now that I am by myself again. After nearly walking away from the front door, I cheek the little screen with a camera outside my door and when I know he left for sure, I move the entire couch to the door. I flip it on it's side and move it flush against the thick wood painted black.

I walk myself slowly to the bathroom and try not to let my mind go back to today's events. I look at myself in the mirror and I can see the little girl. The little girl who went cheering to her father when she knocked Leo out, not bothering to check and see if he was okay because in her mind, he was faking it anyway. I can see the carefree persona in my blonde hair that still flies in all different directions in the wind. My smile hasn't changed a ton. I still grin, when I do, like I kid.

I hope that doesn't change.