Iridescence

Chapter 3- Free Week

The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend. ~Aristotle

Iridescence

Chapter 3: Free Week

Two hours into the school day I was called out of class. A speaker crackled to life, disrupting my teacher's English lecture. "Please excuse the interruption," the secretary said. Miss Sage Ovesque, you are wanted in the front office." She pronounced my last name wrong, emphasizing the 'E' in a sharp tone that hit me hard in the chest. My fists clenched, and I stood. "Come immediately, and leave all school belongings in your classroom. Thank you for your cooperation," she finished.

Oriole, a girl with light blonde hair that suited her name, shot me an apologetic glance as I walked past her. She stopped me with her hands and whispered, "Don't worry too much. Free Week is coming soon, so they probably won't do anything too bad, right?" She looked at me for confirmation.

I wasn't sure how to respond. The so called "Free Week" was the one week of the year when people could let loose a bit. Tara City controlling members set up annual parties and parades, each celebrating different milestones from the past year. Usually, arrests and punishments were avoided around that time, but that didn't mean that nothing could happen to me. At the very least, I was on the Center's radar.

"Here's hoping," I said solemnly.

"Yeah," said Oriole. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

As I went down the hall heading to the office, I heard excited voices gushing about how wonderful the Free Week was. No curfew... It's, like, the best event of the year. The potluck is incredible. And there's an extra party this year! 

This will be so much fun!

Ugh.

Breathe in, breathe out. Stay awake. That was all that really mattered. But hearing people talk about the Free Week like it was some blessing was too much for my brain to handle at the moment. It was kind of fun, I'll admit-but after a while, it just sounded like the same thing every single year. Celebrating the same events. Watching the same people smile and wave. Hearing the same lame announcements. While our city basically ran on difference, and I would be glad for some similarities, sometimes, too much was simply too much.

When I reached the office, the secretary directed me to the councilor's room. I lingered outside the door, my fingertips barely brushing against the knob. What was awaiting me in there? An image of a group of officials crowded around a business table grew in my mind, and I tried to block out their accusatory eyes and block out any color spots that might come creeping in.

No number of terrifying pictures I could have created would compare to what I actually experienced in the councilor room.

Sitting behind a glass working desk was a young boy. His hair was dyed with orange streaks that clashed with his naturally dirty blond color. The boy grinned at me as I walked in and gestured for me to sit, never taking his eyes off of me.

"Sage Ovesque, am I right?" he said. His voice had a slight southern drawl to it. I nodded stiffly.

"Let's get straight to it, then. No, I am not the councilor. No, I am not working for the Center. And yes, my hair is orange. Any questions? No? Good." He spoke in a rapid-fire way that I could hardly keep up with.

I held up a hand. "Slow down, buddy. If you're not the councilor or a Center worker, why am I here? I'm pretty certain that I've never seen you before."

"No, you haven't. And I don't usually do favors for strangers, but this case seemed interesting." For someone who thought that I was 'interesting', he sure sounded bored. "You're here because I want you to be. Simple as that."