Year 12 (First Draft)

-Chapter 14-

  Mrs. Porter and I walk down the halls, making our way to Paul's workshop. I stop just outside the door, and hear Anya laughing. I knock on the door, then enter, surprised to see Paul and Anya over by Paul's desk. Anya looks up and gives me a wink, and I instantly know she's done it; she's gotten Paul to agree to help.

  "Your little spy here is a sweet talker," Paul says, laughing. Anya just grins, obviously pleased with herself. I walk farther into the room, taking a seat on top of Paul's desk. He moves a couple of blueprints out of the way, and smiles at me. "I'm in," He says simply, "on one condition though. You need to be careful. No more mediocre plans. You better blow me away with this one, or I will find a way to make sure it doesn't happen."

  I can see Anya physically deflate, no longer fully pleased with her work. She turns to me, her eyes darting from her mother's face to mine, then back again.

  "I would expect no less," I say, knowing full well that Paul is being completely honest. If he doesn't see the potential in my plan, then he isn't going to help. Simple as that.

  A cold sweat suddenly breaks out over my body, but I know that I'm thinking like Andrea. I'm overthinking. That's doesn't change the fact that Paul's words have struck a chord. Did he really see the potential in my Social Gathering plan? We went through with that.

  "I wish I could have done more," Anya laments, putting her finishing touches on my braid, "I feel like this will be hard to pull off without Paul."

  I nod, thinking about it myself. Breaking into the Cells without Paul would be nearly impossible, but I'm not worried. I know that I'll be able to convince Paul. I have to.

  "Are you ladies talking about me?" I spin around, surprised to see Paul standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. I am even more surprised to see him in a crisp teal dress shirt and black dress pants, and a suit jacket slung over his arm. "We have a meeting," He says to me, disregarding his previous statement.

  I must look surprised because Paul goes back to the door, and Andrea walks in, looking more than a little put out to be here. She grabs my arm and drags me down to my bedroom, walking straight for the closet.

  "What's going on?" I ask, more than a little confused.

  Andrea leafs through my clothes, pulling out a black bodycon dress. "Here, throw this on. We have a meeting set up with some major supporters of the Year Movement."

  "Why am I just now hearing about this?" I ask, sending Andrea a perplexed look. She shrugs, not looking all too thrilled herself.

  "Ask Paul. I just found out earlier this morning. He apparently set up the meeting last night after we had all gone to bed. Convenient for him, I suppose," Andrea shakes her head, shoving the dress in my direction, "but in all seriousness, the meeting starts in ten minutes, so you need to get dressed."

  I pull at the dress that feels too snug on my body, and Andrea just sends me an amused look. Bodycon dresses are to her what a t-shirt and sweats are to me. We walk down the hall, passing Kane's office, and continue until we reach a room at the very end of the corridor. It's Kane's main conference room. I've never had a reason to go in it until now, and suddenly I'm nervous when I hear all the voices coming from inside.

  Andrea gives me a reassuring nod, and I walk hesitantly into the doorway. Everyone's eyes turn to see me, and I avert my gaze, looking down at my feet. Paul walks over from his spot at the head of the table, and walks me to my seat, just to the right of his. I sit down, still feeling out of place. I look up, recognizing a few faces. Paul and Andrea, Mrs. Porter, Anya sitting right beside her, Amelia wrapped in a blanket in Anya's arms. I smile, thankful that Anya seems to have the same way with her that Kane did. I keep glancing around the table, and suddenly my blood freezes in my veins. Sitting ten feet to my left is the Government Leader's daughter. I remember her from the Social Gathering. I look around and begin to recognize other faces. Very influential faces. A politician who ran against the Government Leader sits at the opposite end of the table, tapping his pen against his temple, and his wife, who, until a couple years ago worked as the Government Leader's personal secretary. She smiles at me, but my mind is still racing.