Color-Gifted (Color-Gifted, #1)

Chapter Six

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CHAPTER SIX

            We’re back at the Central Hall entrance, waiting for the rest of the students to gather. Week one is Orientation Week, and we’re going to get a small taste of each different Color class, every day of this week.

“Most of our classes are Color-oriented,” Sandra explained to me on our way here. “Sometimes there'll be lectures that include all Color-gifted students, and sometimes we get paired up or put into groups for various assignments throughout the year—but mainly we get divided by Color.”

            So now we’re waiting for the tour to begin. The sun is still shining warmly in the sky, holding its own against the slight chill. The five of us are standing by the edge of the crowd, halfway between the students in the back and the entrance, where our Color Coaches are waiting. I can see Maunekey chatting away animatedly to Christopher, who stands there silently, nodding every now and then.

            Seeing him immediately brings back the reasons why I fled from the auditorium earlier today. I’d been floating in the air, wondering if I really was as good as everyone says—seeing Christopher hurtles me straight back down to Earth.

            I look up at the passing clouds dotting the otherwise blue sky. I still can’t wrap my head around it: my parents are Color-gifted. My parents—my mom, Cassandra Cole, the woman I've lived with all my life, and my unknown father, who left us fifteen years ago—they’re both Color-gifted.

But why would she lie to me? I don’t understand

            Evan's voice interrupts my thoughts. “Megan?” he prompts gently.

            “Wha—yeah, yeah, I'm okay.” I don’t say more, but he hears behind the silence.

            He tilts his head to me, his voice low enough so only I can hear. “It's hard at first, especially when you haven't grown up into it. Being Color-gifted is so natural, though, and it has a way of growing on to you like that.” He snaps his fingers to make his point. “Everything seems huge and unknown now, but you're a natural. You'll see. It only gets better from here on out.”

            I give him a small smile as he squeezes my shoulder, physically ordering myself not to lean into the compelling nook of his arm. Maunekey speaks up, saving me from myself.

“Everyone!” he shouts gleefully. “We now begin Orientation Week. First stop: White Point. Follow me!” He bounds off ahead, taking the lead with his fellow Coaches as we follow at the end of the group.

            During the weekend before classes began, Myra had taken me to explore the grounds. Christopher was right; it’s easy to find your way around here, despite the vast grounds, and I know now that White Point is nearby, only a couple of minutes' walk from here. I noticed that all the Colored buildings—White Hall, Red Hall, Blue Hall, Yellow Hall and Green Hall—are more or less the same in structure. Like the rest of the buildings on campus, they are all brick buildings painted over, longer than they are tall. Huge stone archways surround the ground perimeter of the structures, creating large shielded areas for students. The wooden benches that litter the entire campus can also be found here, presumably mostly occupied in bad weather. The buildings give the impression of sturdiness, of stability, despite being riddled with large, tall windows that welcome as much sun as possible.