Grey 3 (PUBLISHED)

Chapter Three

"You're going to die." a feminine voice sing-songs.

I look up, finding the girl Lily I met Monday bent over one of my glass walls of my cubicle. I haven't seen her in a while since after the orientation, they stuck us in our designated cubicles to get straight to work. What I admire about this program is that they send us out to the field to get experience. I've been visiting hospitals and standing by as psychologists worked and answering hotline calls. I silently itched to sit down and listen to the children who needed help, to be understood and treated as normal, not like they're just these... malfunctions.

Like you viewed Grey when you started that journal? My subconscious sneers.

My head throbs and I rub my temple. Why am I bringing that up now?

A single rap on the glass drags me out of my confused thoughts.

"Sorry, what?" I shake my head and look up at Lily. She has her head tilted and is frowning down at me, worry etched into the crease of her forehead. I stretch my lips in an attempt to appear sane. Like my mind is scrambled like a batch of eggs in a frying pot.

"I said: you are going to die if you don't have the pasta from the restaurant across the street at least once," she says. "Wanna come with during lunch?"

I glance at the square glass clock next to my computer; lunch is in just an hour, and I may or may not be starving. I look up at her and nod. "Sure, I'd love to. I haven't had pasta in so long. Is the restaurant any good?"

"The best in downtown," she exclaims with wild, gesturing hands.

"Then I can't wait to try them out. I haven't really explored the city, are you originally from here?" I ask her and she shakes her head, perching on my desk. Doesn't she have the same amount of work as me?

"There was some mix-up and I have to share a space with some girl a few cubicles down. So, while she does her fair share on the computer, thought I'd chat with you. If you don't mind..."

"I don't mind at all, I'd like the company," I tell her honestly with a smile she returns.

"Oh, and I'm from Canada, originally," she tells me proudly.

I smile. "What made you come here?"

She pauses and shrugs. "I just wanted a change of scenery."

There is much more she isn't telling me. I can tell by her rapid blinking and strained smile. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she is scared. I mean, her cheeks are red and her bright blue-green eyes are darting everywhere on my desk. She clears her throat and proceeds to change the subject, though I wasn't going to ask any further. I respect her boundaries and I do not know how well enough to question her.

"So, are you from here? Originally, I mean?" she asks, eyes wide and basically pleading for me to go along with the change of topic.

I shake my head with an assuring smile. "No, I'm from New York."

Her eyes brighten. "I've always wanted to go. Do a whole montage, like shopping on fifth avenue and singing on those red stairs like those kids on Glee. Such a great show. Have you ever watched it? I was a total shipper of Rachel and Finn. Who did you ship?" Her eyes are wide and I gape for words. She didn't lie when she said she rambles when she's nervous. Though she doesn't look nervous, so she's naturally chatty.

"I've never watched the show," I say unsurely.

Her glossed lips twist to one side. "Sucks for you; my favorite episodes were the Britney Spears' covers."

I tilt my head. "I'm more into Beethoven." I give a nervous smile and a little shrug.

She watches me with narrowed eyes, then cracks a little smile. "My grandma likes him, too. He's a little boring for my taste, always fall asleep as soon as he starts up. That's why I always go to her place when I have insomnia or just want to pampered with cookies before getting a nice nap."