Protocol

Chapter 2

Leaving makes things easier but my thoughts are nowhere near clear while I sit next to Cal on the bus. The regret in her eyes are evident but I come back empty while trying to find an answer for why it's there. Her hair is in a simple Dutch braid that Lizzy taught her to do and mine is in a bun at the top of my head, a grey scarf covering my hair. The red is not visible in the twist but I would like to keep it that way.

"Cal, can I steal Jay for minute?"

My head snaps up and my eyebrows raise in surprise at one of my best friend's name. He moves into the empty space next to me and I look to Cal. Her facial expression seems indecisive but she eventually smirks and slides out of the booth.

"Of course. Wouldn't want to interrupt your time with loverboy."
I roll my eyes at the long over-used nickname. I turn my head to meet Leo and am surprised again when I find him already looking at me.
"You nervous?" He asks me quietly.
"No," I answer truthfully.

His tongue glides over his teeth as he leans back in his seat, "Right. Jayden is never nervous about anything."

I roll my again, "You know, if you keep rolling your eyes, they might just be stuck that way. And then you'd look like this," his eyes cross and his nose scrunched up in an unnatural way. I laugh at his pure ability to lighten the mood. Out of this friendship, I am the more serious one. When his face still doesn't fall and he begins to mock me in a high-pitched voice that I certainly do not use, I smack his forehead.

His face drops as he runs his head, giving me one of his sour looks. I stick my tongue out at him. The bus comes to a stop and our bodies jolt forward from the sudden stop.

The doors open and the warm air from mother nature suddenly lures me into her trap. I look behind me, suddenly unaware I had stood. Leo looks lost in thought, staring ahead at the opposite chair. I grab his hand and ruffle his raven hair, making him scowl. I pull him towards me and we he finally gets up to walk outside with me, I find myself not letting go of his hand. It doesn't matter much now; life is changing and I might not ever get the chance to do it again.

The fresh air feels nice. I haven't felt warm, free air circulate in my lungs for nearly a year. We aren't allowed in the outside world. I have no idea why. It's amazing out here. Colors. I see colors. Green grass. Blue skies. Diversity for once. It's a miracle I even know all the names of the colors.

Leo keeps mumbling to himself. I wonder if he's nervous? Leo gets worked up easily, though. His green eyes look tired. The illusion of baggy eyes giving away his predicament. He can't be picked. Leo is too much of a good soul; too nice.
This dress feels weird with a breeze. The thin edges of it, flips up when the wind picks up. I want to take off my scarf to cover myself better, even to make myself feel more secure, but I know it would mean the end if I did.

As we round the corner of the tall lifeless building, lines of people come into view. The lines are moving fast, girls and boys dressed in beautiful but lifeless clothing. The most desirable and expensive materials to impress their peers and Gem. I don't understand it. I would have worn a shirt and pants had Lizzie not made me this for me. It would be a sin not to cherish something she used love to make you.

I walk into the shortest line with Leo. We keep our hands glued together as we brace ourselves for the worse. When we get to the front of the line, the old lady with a bland dress on and heels, burns a hole through our hands with her stare. After she clears her throat for the second time I ask, "Do you have a problem?"

She glares at me and instead of answering, grabs my hand and makes an annoyed gesture towards my other hand. Reluctantly, I release Leo's hand. She takes both of my hands and places them, palm-down, on the screen built into the counter. After a loud beep noise, she grabs a small pin from behind the counter and precedes to prick each one of my fingers. After she gets blood from each, she places all of my fingers back on the screen, staining it red with blood. A long number comes up on the screen with a label in red, reading, no major diseases. Well, thanks. I didn't think so either.

She checks both of my eyes before moving to Leo. The screen moves down, into the counter before another slide across, on top of the old one. Fascinating. I watch Leo intently, determined to memorize every detail of his face while I can. He squints his eyes some when they prick his fingers. He has freckles; I love them. They suit him and the rest of his features.

They aren't heavy freckles, more light. Like if a freckle fairy lightly painted them on his face.
Leo is a piece of artwork. A piece of work so admirable that one would be devastated if destroyed. Something so precious, in a way you worship it. I wish to never lose this piece of artwork because it has painted my heart different colors and if I were to lose it, I fear my heart would turn grey like our society. I live for the colors my loved ones paint my heart; after all, who wants a heart the color of stone?