The cafeteria hummed with life, and for a moment Mischa lost herself in the din, almost imagining she sat across from her best friend Vita or the illusive Gunnar. Her heart pleaded with her eyes to stay closed and enjoy the illusion, but the calls of the other teens brought her back to cold reality.
The trays still boasted their loud orange colour, and the lines continued to move at a glacial pace in this brave new world. The food wasn't the same. She might as well take on the vegan moniker with the limited animal products the cafeteria actually served. Butter, cheese, bacon, what she wouldn't give for just a taste. She glared at the tuna slop which passed for meat today. She assumed they would be back to eating like rabbits tomorrow. A sigh escaped her lips as she dropped the tray on the table almost in hopes that it would spill, and she'd be spared this fate.
"Mischa," a friendly voice called from behind.
She turned around to see April, hair tressed and small white flowers poking out of it. Mischa's eyes wandered down to the granite floor just to confirm that the girl still hadn't taken to wearing footwear. April shook her head and scrunched up her face.
"One month and you still can't believe it," April teased. She set her tray of garden salad and tomato chickpea curry on the table.
"I've just never met anyone who hates shoes as much as you do," Mischa replied and took a seat beside a boy of sixteen with glasses as thick as his dark eyebrows. He paid the hobbit girl some attention.
"What's the flower of the day?"
"Thank you for asking, Navjot, it's Bittercress," April replied and pulled one out to examine, inches from her forest green eyes.
"Any luck finding food? As wonderful as these flowers are to look at..." The tall guy in a blue button-up sweater started.
"Quinton, you have to respect the process. A concentration of certain plant species indicates conditions that may be favourable to sow, raise and harvest our choice crops."
April's logic brought a small smile to Mischa's lips. After a few conversations, Mischa had come to the conclusion that April was an old soul trapped in a teen's body.
"The day I get a big ol' steak on this plate, I'll stop asking." Quinton winked at her.
"I second that," Mischa replied. Her salivary glands wetted themselves just thinking about that scrumptious hunk of meat.
"Mischa, I know I'm attractive, but the drooling is making the others uncomfortable."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes at Quinton. She hadn't actually been drooling but her face must have given away her desire. Of course he would interpret it as a response to himself. Arrogant boys had survived the apocalypse after all. "You're awful."
"Awfully charming."
April chuckled. "The Aymaran tribe have a word for pride like that-"
"So do Americans, we call it bullsh-"
"Mischa, please, no good will come of your anger," April said as calm as a kindergarten teacher.
If April weren't one of the few young women in the colony or such a gentle soul, Mischa would consider standing her ground. The girl's tender nature had soothed her grievances over the past month and Mischa had no desire to lose her support.
"Lucky," Mischa mouthed to Quinton.
She didn't dare look back at him after that. Her cheeks flushed as she squashed that stupid feeling in her chest. It wasn't fair for her heart to race and her palms to sweat around him. The injustice of it all made her stomach churn on top of the canned tuna mixture which stunk up her plate. Why was she the one to sit here fed, safe and finding random guys attractive? If she gave in, it meant nothing had changed, that Vita and Gunnar's unknown status didn't concern her.
Her eyes prickled and heat rose from her face. She took one last look at her food before bolting from the room without a word. People became her obstacles. Tears clouded her vision. Speed and obscured visibility got her as far as twenty paces from the cafeteria doors.
The wall felt cool against her back. She slid down to the cold floor and hugged her knees to her chest to bring a much-needed calm to her state. She should have gotten further than this. She just needed to be okay with this situation for once. Alive with family by her side, what more did she want?
"Mischa?" April asked and a gentle hand rested on Mischa's back. "We know it's hard, sweetie."
Mischa nodded, not prepared to show her glassy eyes.
"We're here for you if you need to talk about it, alright? You know we aren't lying when we say we understand how it feels."
Fresh tears fell, and Mischa began to shake. Why couldn't she hold things together? She was better than this. The loss of her mother at a young age should have helped her to cope in this situation. She had felt the grips of separation before, but there was no one to reassure that her friends were in a better place this time. Danger surrounded them. Her arms wrapped around April, and it helped ground her a little more.
"Why is this so hard?"
"Because you were there." The low voice didn't belong to sweet April. Mischa's heart beat faster as she brought her gaze up to Quinton's hard face and let go of April. "No matter how many stories we hear or read, we didn't spend that night with the storm beating away at the country."
"You all lost more than I did."
"But we weren't there to see the horrors they would face. Your retrieval story was one of the worst Mischa, to be honest."
"I-" Mischa's mouth opened and closed like a guppy. She grimaced just recalling the fact that her story was common knowledge, just another topic to discuss at the cafeteria table.
"You should get upset. They sprung this life on you, didn't they?"
"I thought my friends were coming with me. My dad told me about it maybe a week before without saying too much. Once the colony showed up, they just grabbed me." Mischa tightened her arms around her torso. "They bound my mouth so I couldn't call out for them and shoved me in that stupid black jeep."
April gave her one last soothing rub on the back before she stood up. "I'm going to brew up some tea. We found Yarrow today, and it should help," April said. Her naked feet pattered away on the stone floor.
Mischa nodded and looked back up at Quinton who was a real giant from her position. He sat down next to her, close enough to brush her knee by accident.
"Was it that bad for you?" Mischa didn't want to know the answer, but it was the only question resting on her lips.
"They used to send us notices that we'd be doing a weekend stay in or a drill. They'd arrange all the transport and text the instructions from disposable cells. It was weird, but we got used to it. I had a cover story with my family, not that I really needed one."
"So you chose to come here."
"It was an opportunity I wasn't about to turn down. They called everyone up a week before the storm just as an exercise but we never went back."
Mischa nodded. Nothing about her story was congruent with the rest. Further confirmation that I don't belong here.
"What happened to your friends wasn't your fault."
"I know."
"Do you think they're still out there?"
Mischa raised her eyes slowly. His question wasn't naive or unassuming. His eye continued to search hers for an answer.
"I know they are."
Quinton remained silent, playing with the fabric of his jeans. What other questions burned in his mind? He wouldn't understand her motives and what she hoped to do. She took three more calming breaths before she stood up and remembered what she had set out to do tonight. The naive man who worked with her father was supposed to help her out.
"Woah, where are you going? Let's not do anything brash, now."
"I'm fine, Quinton. Why don't you go your assigned job or something?" She hadn't realized how bitter those words were until they flew out of her mouth. It still stung that she wasn't one of those elite ones, just a charity case.
"Just because you're upset, don't take it out on me."
"I have to meet someone."
"I could walk you there."
"You could."
They walked in silence, up another floor to her father's office. It wouldn't be too difficult to falsely explain why she was here, should he ask. Once they arrived, she turned the handle to find it unlocked. She peeked around for Mr. Drest, but the lab was empty. Figures he would forget about the whole thing. If only he knew how important this was to her.
"This place is nice," Quinton said. His eyes ran over the computers and the storage shelves as if they were prizes.
"You're one of those computer guys, aren't you?"
"I intern in the programming department, Mischa. Take a wild guess."
She avoided his smile by diverting her attention to the large container with the serial number she had committed to memory. Quinton helped her lift it off the high shelf and they brought it down to the floor. His eyes widened as she lifted the lid.
"You don't just think they're alive. You're going after them."
Mischa froze as the blood drained out of her face. He wasn't supposed to know what these did. Why had Mr. Drest been so naive while Quinton had her all figured out?
"Relax, your business is your business. I'm not a nark."
He placed a hand on top of hers and she suppressed the urge to pull it away. His hand was soft, warm and dwarfed her in comparison. Somewhere deep down a silly voice rang out, you know what they say about a man with large hands... If Vita were here, they'd be giggling about the whole thing. Her eyes dropped down to the tracker she had picked up. Vita wasn't here, yet.
"Have you ever checked to see where they ended up?"
Mischa shook her head and the reality dawned on her. They may not be alive. The tracker could be inactive. Quinton gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"Here, let's see that number and we'll find it."
Mischa picked up the bag with the one device she had found earlier with Mr. Drest. She slowly took it out and pressed the button in hopes that something would appear today. The blank screen displayed the reflection of her sunken smile and puffy eyes.
"Damn it."
"Can I see?" Quinton asked. She let him take the device as he flipped open the back panel to see what lay below. "Sneaky of them to take away all the power sources. But I swear we have some batteries this size back where I'm working."
"Have all the batteries been taken out?"
They flipped through a handful of the other devices to find that all of them had been stripped of their power.
"They just couldn't make it easy, could they?" Mischa grumbled.
"I'll pick some up tomorrow from work, you can hang tight for another night, right? I know it's not ideal, but the center is locked"
Mischa nodded despite her desire to break in there. Gunnar would have done just that. She remembered the first conversation they had ever had, a time when she really needed to submit an assignment to get a mark high enough to make it into next year's IB Literature course.
She had sat on the ground outside Mr. Petrovich's locked classroom with her head cradled in her hands. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and she lifted her head up in hopes of finding her middle-aged teacher. Instead, a tall guy wearing tattered jeans which hung off his narrow hips, holey sneakers, and a dark green hoodie walked past her.
"Hey, have you seen Mr. Petrovich?"
The guy stopped and raised an eyebrow at her for just a moment. He turned his head away and was about to keep going.
"Please, I really need to get this assignment in on time or else my upcoming senior year is screwed."
His lips tugged into a small smile. "He just let us out of detention early, and took off."
"Shit. You wouldn't know how to pick a lock, would you?"
"What, ya just assume I would know how?"
"No, but if by chance you could, you'd my favourite person of the day."
"You're in luck, dork," he said. "But if you want my help, you can't go bragging about his to your jock boyfriend or his friends."
"Dork?" Mischa said with a bit of a smile.
"Asks the girl waiting for a teacher just to give in some crap assignment."
"I want to go to college in two years, don't you?"
The guy laughed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "College is for suckers." He stared at the top of her head for a while before he squatted down beside her. "I need one of those clips in your hair for that lock."
Before she had the chance to reach up, he brought a hand up to cup the base of her skull. His fingers tugged at the baby hairs as he spread his fingers. Mischa sucked a breath and closed her eyes as the fingers on his other hand searched her hair. Shivers ran down her body with each strand he gently loosened from her ponytail. His breath fanned out on her neck as his eyes scanned her red mane for the bobby pins he needed. Heat radiated from every inch of her body. She would be shocked if he hadn't noticed the rise in temperature. It felt like it was a hundred degrees. As his fingers gently stroked the back of her neck, she almost hoped he never found the pins.
His fingers gave a gentle tug and more of her locks fell down. He moved back in front of her, but she still refused to open her eyes. She wouldn't be able to control her emotions if she had to look into his eyes.
"I won't hurt ya."
Mischa's eyes shot open and she frowned. "I wasn't thinking that."
It only took a moment for his lips to curve up into a smile. His eyes danced and he almost began to laugh. He leaned in close to whisper, "don't worry, I won't tell your boyfriend."
Mischa's cheeks turned the same colour as the hair this boy had just spent minutes running his hands through. Had he done it on purpose? Regardless, it had felt far more intimate than anything Danny had ever done for her. But the thought that she was sitting here with some random guy, leading him on, brought shame to her heart.
"I- I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"I shouldn't have done that. It won't happen again." The playful, knowing smile vanished from his face.
Mischa felt her stomach drop for a moment as she let out a deep breath. "I could have stopped you." And I should have...
The boy's eyes met hers, and he frowned. "Ya shoulda. People like you shouldn't be running around with people like me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"We might go to the same school, but it sure don't mean we're going the same place."
Before she could reply, he pulled a pocket knife out of his pocket and worked with the bobby pin on the lock. Mischa watched closely as he pulled and prodded at the lock with the pin above the spot where he had inserted a small wedge. After a few minutes, the lock clicked and he pushed the door opened. He turned to walk away.
"Can I drive you home or something? I feel really embarrassed about this whole thing."
The boy shrugged and stood at the doorway while she ran to set her paper on the stack of others that Mr. Petrovich had thankfully left on his desk.
"Or are you hungry? We could grab some burgers or something in non-romantic, friends-only, kind of way," Mischa added.
A loud growl came from his stomach, and he wrapped his arm around his torso. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
"Great, I so didn't want to try cooking again and hate eating alone."
"You have lots of friends."
"Yeah, but they're not breaking into English classes for me now, are they?"
His lips curled into a smile. "Okay, but something that's not too fancy."
"Awesome, and since you seem to know so much about me, can I at least know your name?"
"Gunnar."
"I'm Mischa." She'd never met anyone with the name and curiosity burned. "Does your name mean anything?"
"Means my Mormor didn't let my mom give us shit names like Zane or Blade."
Mischa laughed as she tore her hair down from the demolished ponytail, and they walked down the hall towards the parking lot.