Waiting for War

Katie

Thermos is different than the capital in a constellation of ways. The roads are rougher, kind of like the edge of the capital, and the buildings are shaped oddly. They have curves and jagged lines like an archiologist's nightmare. The people dress different here too. In the capital most wear is professional. Here there is a pressure on fashion, and not necessarily high fashion. There are bright colors, plastic looking make up, and glitters in the moonlight. The noise is louder, the cars are square, and there is a large park at the center that others will play at. There are events there, with famous singers from around Alasia. The station for the shuttle even looks different. People from all over come here, flooding into the brightly lit station, with mesmerizing colored glass. It feels good to be out of the house. It's wonderful to be out of my head in a space so filled with art.

"There's a mall here, do you want to check it out?" Amy steps up beside me, her eyes gliding around my periphery for anything suspicious. Anyone that may be trying to kill me. I loop an arm around her shoulder.

"You're creasing your eyebrows like your deep in thought, what's up?" I ask.

"Even dressed to blend in, you still stick out Katie. There's so many people I've already seen staring," she looks nervous.

I sigh. "Amy, there's always going to be people staring, have you seen my crystal? I mean there's rumors everywhere about me, I'd be more surprised if people weren't staring," I laugh.

Amy and I continue walking, her still looking around like something is going to eat us. We make our way down to the mall, it's five blocks from our house. The summer heat somehow seems more manageable in the light of what I'm avoiding in the capital.

The mall is way different than the capital's is. The rooms rise along the walls of the large round building, with an escalator that wraps around them from the inside, a convenient step off to the left after entry. We soar through the levels, one at a time, a caleiscope of holograms displayed in the center. Different products, different names of brands, different news. I catch a glimpse of a younger version of my mother and look away. It's not worth seeing.

Finally we make it to the power suit store, Amy wants a more incognito one. Looking around at the irredescent colored suits, different designs etched on each of them my ear picks up a conversation not too far away.

"Well you know who the principal is for Army university this year," the one says to the other.

"No, who?"

"Victoria Hardens," the words are filled with venom that plunges into my soul.

My mom is here? My mom is going to be at the school tonight?