Acts of Reality

.:act one - emilia:.

It is almost lunchtime at Pinnock High.

The girl down the hall is a tall, thin redhead with an aura of utter ordinariness, and she hugs an equally ordinary sketchbook to her chest. She would be a good candidate.

I merge into a purposeful crash course towards her, pretending I am absorbed in my own thoughts. Few people here know me well enough to assume otherwise, which is excellent cover. I bump into her, making sure we both fall over onto the colorful plastic tiles.

“Oh my gosh - I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” she gasps, offering me a small hand with notes scribbled and blurred all over it. Her sketchbook has fallen; that’s good news.

“No thanks, I’m fine.” I say, forging a smile and picking up the sketchbook. “Hey, can I flip through this?”

The girl blushes. “Sure, uh… sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Alayna. Alayna Martin. Can you repeat it, please?”

“I am Emilia Cassiel. And there is no shame-” I open the book. “-in not knowing who I am. In fact, it would be a very rare occurrence if you knew it.”

The book is filled with people; two young boys on the first page, an elderly woman in a garden on the second, and a crying man on the third. Young and old, beautiful and ugly, sitting and standing, rich and poor; all are present in these pages, and yet each drawing has more attention to detail and charm that most of the drawings submitted to me by applicants.

“Well, Alayna, how would you like to join me for lunch today?”

“Um, yeah, I guess?” Alayna says. She is still profoundly awkward; that will have to change soon.

“Good. Someone will be waiting for you next to the fork dispenser in the cafeteria to take you there. If he asks anyone for directions, tell me who he asked, what they looked like, who they were and weren’t sitting with. Register all the details. Understood?”

Her mouth opens and subsequently closes before she nods her head in shock.

“Good.”

I stroll past her and walk into the girls’ bathroom, where I enter my usual stall; the only one with a loose tile on the floor. I pull some pens out of my purse and use them to lever up the floorboard, revealing a small metal staircase that curves around and around in the shape of a snail’s shell.

I descend the staircase.

But it does not lead me to the cafeteria.