Champion of the Bots ✔️

Chapter 37 ~ MARIOLA

Mariola stood by the buffet tables—one hand holding a platter of food and the other stuffing torn pieces of chicken, buttery kernels of corn, steaming buns of pork, and more that quickly disappeared into the abyss of her stomach. Oil smeared her lips, but she didn't care. She was supposed to be the center of attention for the night, but that didn't matter. Food was all that mattered in life. Mariola took a moment to drag air into her lungs before continuing to attack her food when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

A muffled sound escaped the oddly formed chunk in her mouth, and Tomy flinched at the sight of the girl's open mouth and half-digested food.

"Mariola, why are you hiding here?" He said, averting his gaze to the rainbow banners strung between the trees and fluttered against the breeze.

Swallowing, Mariola followed his gaze and realized how much time and effort Loma must've put into the florid table cloths, the white fairy lights, the chockfull bowls of food, food, and food. Her stomach echoed her thought when she replied, "I'm hungry."

"Y-yes...I saw that." The man shuddered and hoped that with her time here, she would learn to have proper table manners. "You should go meet your new family. You disappeared when you were introduced."

Mariola blushed. She couldn't help herself. After Loma had dragged out the leaves and the grit in her hair and handed her a purple laced dress, Mariola was pulled down to a stage that magically surrounded Loma's treehouse. A huge horde of people had squeezed into the small dirt road between the row of tree houses and cheered at Mariola. She remembered Loma calling her name out then—

Mariola's cheeks grew redder. She had ran out of the stage and to the buffet tables, where she stuffed food into her face until now.

"It's alright, kid," Tomy chuckled. "Now, put the food down and come with me."

She couldn't. Food was precious.

"Come on, kid. Don't worry; there'll be plenty of leftovers for you though I doubt that you could continue eating after that." His eyes fell on the erupting mountain on her plate.

Mariola raised her eyebrows. Oh, don't challenge me, her eyes said; but her lips replied, "Alright fine."

Reluctantly leaving her plate on the table, as if saying goodbye to a loved one, Mariola left and tried not to turn back around as Tomy led her to the surging crowd by the front of the stage.

Her eyes were so focused on food that Mariola didn't notice the bobbing, translucent objects atop everyone's heads—hearts, hands holding, food, security locks, and more.

What do all these objects mean? She mumbled to herself, lifting her eyes up to her own.

"You still haven't figured it out?" Tomy asked.

"Figure what out? Oh, did I say that out loud?" She clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Figure out why we have objects on our head," he replied, pointing at the silhouette of hands holding over his head. "And yes, you did say that out loud."

"What does yours mean?"

Tomy sighed.

"Is-is that a personal question? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"