CH. TWENTY - SIX
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Tysm for helping with these ideas strwrslvr xx
There's a woman in front of her. Dressed in white, with dark hair cut past her shoulders. A sweet, genuine smile.
Taking a step closer, Joan reads the name tag on the woman's chest. Mary Cooper.
Her eyes wide. "...Mom?" She blurts out, but the woman's gaze softens even more, and she nods, opening her arms.
Joan hesitates. She doesn't even know this woman. Sure, it might really be her mother, but to hug her— fuck it, she hugs her.
A familiar smell fills her chest. Her hut smells nice and she's gotten used to the smell of the Glade, but this is the real smell of home. She recognizes it.
"Is this real?" She wonders quietly. They seem to be in a hallway of some kind of hospital. "Or am I hallucinating?"
"Hallucinating for sure," Mary replies. She lets go of her daughter with a smile. "But that doesn't immediately mean you can't make it seem real."
Her gaze softens, too. "Where are we? I remember getting pulled underwater and—"
"I'll show you," she interrupts. Takes Joan's hand and walks them over to a big, white door. "Come on."
The door opens and a whole new world is revealed.
They've walked into a landscape with hundreds of colorful flowers. The fresh smell of trees and nature. Woods in the distance, a few animals in the grass, and a sky that's almost more blue as in the Glade.
"Wow," she gulps. It's almost too much to take in. "But this isn't what the world looks like right now, right?"
Her mother shakes her head. "I wish it were like this. But your father and I are trying to reach a safe place."
"Are y'all alive?" She urges, no matter how ridiculous this whole situation is.
No reply. But if they're still trying to reach a safe place, they must be alive.
"There's people who want you to wake up," her mother announces after a comfortable silence. "We've got to apart ways now."
"But—"
❀
"There she is!"
With a groan, her eyelids peel open and the hallucination gets replaced with a bright light.
Wow, a hallucination of her mother. The nicest hallucination so far. She wouldn't mind if this happened again, honestly.
However, it would be nice if next time it won't feel like her skull is about to crack open and flashes of pain hit her body every second.
"Hello there," she groans, meeting Jeff's eyes before she sees Newt, Alby, and Clint.
"Girl!" Newt peeps. "You somewhat drowned!"
She stretches as she sits up. Immediately, a towel with ice in it gets pressed in her hands. "Thanks, Jeff." She holds it against her head. "And yeah, I didn't plan on that either. How'd I get here?"
"You were lucky Alby was gettin' us fertilizer!"
"Yeah," the leader confirms. "Saw movements in the water, then you, I think all the way in the deepest part of the lake, last air bubbles leaving your mouth. Dived in there and got you here."
She looks down at his dripping clothes, and the pool of water besides his chair. What would've happened if he hadn't done that? "Thank you, Alby."
Clint raises an eyebrow. "What the hell happened? Most people who go swimming can swim."
"I hallucinate, remember? There were these weird creatures, pulling me underwater."
"Didn't you say you share them with Gally?" Newt furrows his eyebrows. "Didn't he notice, then? Was it his hallucination?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. If it was, he's likely busy taking care of himself."
"He's building as always," Jeff announces, his nose scrunching along with his eyebrows. "No signs of hallucinating."
Oh, well. She shrugs it off. Might just be better that only one person goes through it, and not both. "I feel alright. Can I go?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." She laughs. "Thanks for treating me, Med-Jacks. I've forgiven you two by now."
Joan follows Newt and Alby outside, telling them bye before she moves to her own little place, avoiding eye contact with Gally, though she can feel his eyes burn in her back.
You alright? He wonders.
Yeah. Just a hallucination. Did you have one?
Sometimes wish I hallucinate these ugly faces in front of me, but no.
Good. She sits down on her trunk. About yesterday—
It was just to calm me down, he says, as if he can read her mind.
Well, he kind of can—
Yes, she nods at herself. Just to calm you down. I wasn't really thinking either. You forgive me?
I mean, I do have the flex that I'm the first boy you've kissed here, so no apologies needed.
Who said you're the first boy I've kissed here? A grin forms on her face at that.
What?
But she no longer replies. It takes a while for him to give up on asking. Once he has, she can't take the grin off for somewhat the rest of the day.
❀
At dinner, she waits for Camil to finish his usual round of greeting people. He's like the popular friend that needs ten minutes every break to greet his million friends.
When he returns, he insists to join the Jeff, Gally and Zart. Sighing, Joan follows him.
"Hi." She gives Gally a nod as she sits down next to him, the other three boys across from them.
Fry gave them chicken wings, rice, and some kind of sauce in a bowl, along with one single cooked egg.
Satisfied with this dinner, she takes her spoon and tries to chop her egg in half.
Which does not work.
Now that's anger issues. She sighs. It keeps slipping away when she stabs her spoon in it. She attempts a few more times, then gives up and squeezes the egg in pieces with her fist.
A chuckle next to her. "You also have a fork."
"Have you seen yourself and how you eat?" She snaps, elbowing Gally in the side. It only causes more chuckles. "I'll stab the damn fork in—"
"Yeah, let's not turn aggressive here," Jeff warns, yet he smiles. "Pass me the salt?"
Her wrist brushes over Gally's as she does so, and it shoots a bright red all over her face. God. "There you go."
Jeff grins. "Thanks."
Gally clears his throat. Readjusts himself on the bench. "So. Anyone got anything... interesting?"
"The Med-Hut is broken. Maybe you and Joan could have a l—"
"Nice try, Jeff."
He looks down in disappointment. "Yeah, alright."
Camil tilts his head to the side. "Can someone give me a massage? My legs hurt. They do that, sometimes—"
"Your legs are paralyzed. You won't even feel it if I pour boiling water on you." Gally sighs. "You, Zart?"
"I planted tomatoes and—"
"Alright, we get it," the Builder already cuts him off. "Nothing interesting then. You, woman?"
She shrugs. "Not really. I mean, I'm not sure if I'll ever go swimming again— but we'll talk about that later, I guess."
"Would you make us some more hammers?" He requests.
"Sure. I can have them done in two days."
"Great." He nods, eyes twinkling. "Anything else on the planning?"
"Maybe I can help Fry create new kind of sauces or use new kind of flowers for serums." She shrugs. "Why? You need anything else?"
"Nope. Just interested."
"Why are you curious in her flowers but not in my tomatoes, man?" Zart groans with a shake of his head. "Nobody ever cares."
"Go cry about it," Gally murmurs. "Anyway— Jeff, when are you going to wear the shirt Joan created for you?"
She automatically laughs.
"Never," Jeff snaps. "That was not funny, by the way."
"I think it was very funny," she says. "Anyway— Gally, have you wore your underwear already?" She mimics. "Is the heart nice?"
He gives her a triumphant look. "Need to see it with your own eyes?"
Completely red, she shakes her head. "No, thank you. Talking about that, I bought something new. You must like it. It's navy blue—"
"No, thank you." Now redness spreads on his face, too.
"What are these inside jokes about?" Camil runs a hand through his hair. "Let's move on to another subject. You're only talking about things connect to Joan, or talking to her."
"That's called having a conversation," Gally grumbles.
"That's called being desperately in love—"
"It's definitely called having a conversation," Joan adds in. Her cheeks get even brighter, heat streaming and streaming from this embarrassment.
"Don't you turn your back on me!" Camil grins as he slams his fist on the table. "I know what you two did—"
"Don't. Even. Dare," she threatens, giving the other boys a glare. "Camil, I mean it."
"You two k—"
"Finish that sentence and I'll make shuckin' sure more parts of your body are paralyzed," Gally mutters.
Alright, he's silenced now.
Sometimes she does forget Gally is quite grumpy after all.
Is he as mean to everyone as he was to her in the beginning? Probably not. He didn't trust her because he saw her. There must be Greenies of who he doesn't have dreams and who he is nice to.
Yes. She has caught him teaching one of the younger kids how to carve.
Damn, she should use that against him.
"Now what are you grinning about?" Jeff gives her a glance. "Dreaming about your boyfri—"
"He's not my boyfriend."
"I'm not her boyfriend."
They share a look, both swallowing, then turn back to the others. "Need me to say it in your language? He ain't my shuck boyfriend, ya slinthead."
Zart pulls a face. "Oh my god— don't ever speak in Glader slang again."
"He isn't my fucking boyfriend, you shithead," she snaps. "Your slang is funny but ridiculous. So are your names for everything!! Track-Hoes? Zart, are you a hoe? Tool-Makers sound stupid, too. Med-Jacks? Just call them Doctors. And what the hell are Bricknicks?"
"Men are just more creative," Camil jokes, but her eyes narrow.
"Yeah? Who made that serum you're spreading all over your body every night? Who got these hammers? Who's creating the perfumes? Not you." Her arms cross over her chest.
Gally covers a chuckle with a cough. Or attempts to, at least.
"Shut up, Gally." She elbows him in the side again. "The only thing you've created is an unsteady shack."
"I built your hut as neatly as I could!"
"And then you sprayed a dick on my wall!"
"It was pink!"
"So what? That doesn't make it any better! All dicks are pink—"
Jeff clears his throat. "Mine isn—"
"Let's stop," she then decides. "Can't handle talking about dicks while I'm surrounded by dicks."
Camil frowns. "Do you mean that we're dicks or or you mean the fact we have—"
"Enough." She buries her head in her hands, cringing. "Where were we before this?"
"You were grumbling about how stupid our names for everything are," Gally says.
"Right." She clears her throat. "Some names make sense but others..."
"Women don't always make sense either!" Zart defends. "Like, what woman decided to name me Zart?"
"Zart isn't that bad," she says. "And don't be rude to your mother, though you don't even remember her."
"Y'all are dumb," Jeff groans. "Unless our mom's had a thing for naming us after popular people, I think someone else renamed us."
"Prove it."
He looks at Camil. "Camille Pissarro," he says. "Galileo Galilei. Joan Of Arc, Thomas Jefferson."
"Who am I named after?"
"Mozart. The musician."
"And Newt? And Alby?"
"Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein," he sighs.
"Damn, you've got it figured out, man."
"What about Minho?"
"I've been trying to think of that, but I don't know." He shrugs.
Her eyes have widened in the meanwhile. "I'm named after Joan Of Arc?"
"I think so."
Her lips curve up in a smile. "That's so cool!"
After a while, they've jumped from subject to subject, and twilight is starting to fall.
"I'm going to take a shower," she announces.
"Witho—"
"Don't even dare, Camil." She slaps him against the back of his head. "I should make a lock on one of the showers, by the way," she mutters.
Gally frowns. "You've been showering without a lock for months?"
"I've been swimming, too."
"Yes, but you swim in your undergarments. Doesn't seem very comfortable for a shower."
Her eyebrows fly up. "Your point?"
"I'll get you a lock," he decides.
"Where is my credit?" Camil crosses his arms. "I've held watch multiple times!"
Gally looks up and down at the boy. "What're you gonna do when a pervert shows up? No offense."
"Offense taken."
"I'll keep watch."
"That's really not necessary—"
"I'll keep watch," Gally repeats.
Ignoring the feeling in her stomach, she follows him away from the rest. "Why so nice?"
"You nearly drowned. I have slight pity."
She hums. "Ah. I should drown more times. I'll have a nice Gally."
"I have been nice!"
"Alright, maybe." Joan tilts her head to the side.
"I've been very nice, actually. Uncomfortably nice."
"Well, no one is forcing you to be nice to me."
"...yes, they are. Locked us up—"
"So all of this is fake?"
"Didn't say that."
"Alright." They arrive at the showers. "I'll try to shower quickly."
"How quickly is quickly?"
"Fifteen minutes."
"That's not quickly."
"Where do you think I got these awesome looks from?" She cracks a smile. "Need to take care of my hair, shave, wash my body... you know it!"
"I barely have any hair on my head to take care of and it's not like I've got a full beard growing, so no, I don't."
"About that... you should totally grow your hair out." Her eyes squint at him. "Mhm... yes! Bit messy, combed backwards—"
"Absolutely not. That'll be annoying to work with."
"I've got hair past my shoulders! You think that's easy to work with?"
"Make a ponytail in it."
"I've been doing that."
"And...?"
"And it doesn't work. Hair keeps falling forward."
"So? Why are you giving me that look? Need me to hold your shucking hair—"
"No, thank you." She turns her back to him and pulls her shirt off. "It's nothing you've never seen before! And I've turned around."
"So have I by now," he grumbles after a sharp inhale.
"Good." She coughs. "Well, you can get out of the bathroom now. Keep watch outside. And let me change and shower in peace."
"Of course."
"Of course."