Revolution

- 22 -

I wander the aisles silently.

My fingers trail along the edges of bright wrappers and cardboard boxes stacked on metal shelves. My aching feet, wrapped in bloodied boots with torn laces, scuff on the yellowed tile floor.

I feel like I've been here before, but something inside me whispers that I haven't ever seen a place like this. So this is what the real world is like. And instead of seeing this in a dream, it's tangible, right here around me. I've never seen colors as vibrant or fonts as decorative as the ones advertising chocolates and chips and foods I've never heard of.

I pace down the aisle, rolling my feet to minimize noise, until I reach a back wall covered in glass doors. Brandon reaches inside and selects a few of the various plastic bottles filled with bubbling liquid. He drops some in the chipped metal basket that hangs from his shoulder. "Soda," he explains when he sees me. "You can try 'em later, if you want."

"That sounds good." I remember my dream, and glance to my right. Sure enough, there's a door flush against the wall. I check to make sure no one is watching before turning the knob and stepping inside. It doesn't creak. The air cools around me and it's dark back here, the walls packed with cardboard boxes with black printed labels.

That's not what I'm here for. I stare down to the far wall, but Emma isn't sitting there like I'd expect. Dust is collecting on the ground where she would've sat.

"Hey, hey, hey," Brandon says, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me out. "It says 'employees only,' so you're not allowed in there."

I let him, despite the distinct Emma-lacking space in the back room. This was my best hope for finding the other mutants, and now it's gone.

"I just gotta get a few things, if you wanna come with me," he says, trailing off. I bite my lip.

"Sure."

He walks down an aisle and stops in front of a rack of hats. I'm getting bored watching him choose. The gas station is only so big. I step around him, towards a separate rack with a mirror on the top. I look like an absolute mess, but that's to be expected. Goggles are held up on little wire supports, but they don't look like normal goggles, and I realize they're just decorative glasses like some of the doctors used to wear. I don't want to associate with them, but at the same time, the colors are enticing. I select a pair with a seemingly opaque lens, because when I looked into it, they simply reflected my own face back at me. When I put them on, however, they gave the world a slight blue tint, but I could see perfectly well. I glance up at the mirror and grin at myself. You can't even see my white eyes through the glasses.

I turn to Brandon, who's flipping a hat between his hands. Finally, he settles it on his head and gives me a small nod. "Nice glasses," he says. "You look almost normal."

I cock my head. "Thanks, I think."

"You wanna grab anything else, a pop, maybe? Some candy?" He thumbs through the snacks piled in the plastic basket. "Or, you know, something healthy or useful?" He mumbles, clearly embarrassed with his choice.

I shrug before meandering around the store for a few more minutes, picking up a fuzzy scarf and a pocket knife. I'm eyeing some of the brightly colored candies on the shelf when someone approaches me from behind. Their footsteps are heavy and distinctly unlike Brandon's, so I reach out delicately with my ability while flipping through the sweets with a free hand.

"You looking for something in particular, sweetheart?" He asks. I furrow my eyebrows. I don't like his tone, but I also don't know what he's trying to get at. I scan over to the next row of candy while he takes a step closer. "You gotta pay for that, you know."

I don't want to take control of his mind, so I keep my ability to myself. Standing on my tiptoes, I peer over the metal shelves in search of Brandon, but he's nowhere to be found. The man sets his hands on his hips. "C'mon, if you don't have the money, it's no big deal, just put 'em back." He reaches forward to snag the scarf from my hands and I step back, watching him tensely. He frowns, visibly agitated. "Let's go."

I push the glasses up on my head. They snag in my tangled hair but I don't care, because the man's eyes widen with fright and he raises his hands in surrender. I stare him down, clenching my hands into fists, and he starts to back away.

"Paige! There you are," Brandon says, stepping around the man. He works his jaw when he sees my furious gaze. "Oh. Is something wrong?"

"She... you..." the man stutters. "I'm... I'm gonna have to ask you to l... leave the store."

Brandon sets a hand on his hip. "That's discrimination. We haven't done anything. Do you have a manager I can speak to?"

"I..." the man licks his lips, eyes flicking between Brandon and me. "I can call...?"

Brandon flips his hand. "Never mind. Can you just ring us up, please?"

The man takes a moment before nodding stiffly and half-jogging towards the front of the store. I toss Brandon a confused glance, but he just looks somewhere between mildly irritated and exhausted. "Put the glasses back on, at least until we're out of here," he sighs, before following the man. I walk a few steps behind him and settle the glasses back on the bridge of my nose with an annoyed puff of air. I don't like this at all.

The man stands cowering behind a chipped countertop with a computer-like machine on the edge. A glass case filled with dozens of sparkling pieces of paper sits next to it. The man glances at me anxiously when I press my hands to it. His name tag reads "Gavin." I don't like him.

"Can I... is... is this all?" Gavin asks, gesturing to the soda bottles and snacks. He presses a few buttons on the machine before glancing up for affirmation.

"That's it." Brandon says casually, drawing a few wrinkled dollar bills from his pocket. He presses them on the counter a little forcefully and starts collecting the drinks in his arms skillfully. "Thanks."

"This isn't enough," Grant says, flipping through the money. "It's... eight dollars?"

"Keep the change," Brandon calls over his shoulder, already walking out with a smirk on his face. I grab the rest of the snacks, making sure to tilt my head just right so the man can see my blank eyes. He casts his gaze down uncomfortably. Good.

I walk out after Brandon, who's holding the door for me with one foot. We dump our loot in the backseat and slide back into the front, leaving the car idling in the parking lot for a moment as Brandon cracks open a drink. He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. "Want some?" He asks, tilting the bottle toward me.

I take it from him gingerly and take a tiny sip. The drink is sweet and fizzes on my tongue, tasting like nothing I've ever had before and yet somehow, I love it. I smile and drink a little more, enjoying the odd sensation.

"You like it?" Brandon asks with an identical grin. I nod. "It's cherry Sprite. That's my favorite."

"It's really weird."

"I guess if you've never had anything other than water, it would be."

"I had this vitamin sludge drink once. Does that count?"

Brandon laughs. "It really doesn't."

I stare down at the drink, tiny bubbles rising to the surface. "Thank you," I whisper.

"Hey, it's no problem. Just wait till you try Smarties. It's just straight sugar. You eat enough and it feels like you're entering a fourth dimension."

I tilt my head. "I had a friend who could do that once."

"You know what?" Brandon says, twisting off the cap to an identical drink. "At this point, so much crazy shit has happened that I wouldn't doubt it."