A/N: Someone's gone update-happy! ^_^ But, yeesh, these chapters are short! Guess they ought to be, though, considering I have a stunning tally of nine points of view to use throughout this story. Oh, and I know things are moving pretty slowly, what with all the description and characterization. But they'll speed up and start getting nice and exciting and plotty soon, I promise. Much more dialogue in future chapters, too; I noticed it's been quite skimpy.
Shout OutsKirjava~Muchas gracias, mi amor! Rade the review lover thanks you profusely! I'm so glad you like it, and thankee for the luck!
Naughty-By-Nature~*pounces* Thank you for the lovely review! And I'm glad you enjoy the sarcasm, though I give all the credit to X-Ray. ^-^ Thank you also for saying the story is realistic. That's what I've been trying to pull off, though it's not easy.
Nosilla~Glad you like! Did you think I'd update this soon? ;-)
Peach/Taggy~Get over here and read this, mi hermana! And bring Beaver Boy…his lovely and terrifying Minion makes her appearance! ;-)
EVERYONE: Say it with me, now…"Charade makes too many faces."
Announcement Over The Fanfiction.net Public Address System: Somewhere on this website, there is a writer wasting away, feeling unnoticed and unloved. But don't shed your tears for this writer; instead, come to her (*cough*or his) aid. Review a story today. Even you can make a difference! ^_^
Chapter Three: The Bombshell Trio
Point Of View: Zigzag
They can see it too!
That was the first thought that hit me when everyone started babbling about the car, and it was accompanied by a powerful wave of relief. See, a few times I had seen things that other people couldn't see, and it was always real annoying. I mean, I'd be looking at something right in front of me, clear as day, and I'd say something about it, and whoever was around would look at me like I was nuts. Usually that made me lose my temper with them, and losing your temper isn't the greatest idea at Camp Green Lake. So I was glad when the car turned out to be publicly visible.
Of course, I still figured we were done for. Who in his right mind would drive a car to Camp Green Lake? Come on, it's the middle of the desert. Ain't like we had guests dropping by for tea on a regular basis. Made sense, didn't it, the Warden wanting us all picked off? Eliminate all the witnesses. Hire one of those top-secret government agencies. Probably been communicating with 'em all along. I knew that relentless "Excuse me?" was some kind of code. Anyway, I was all set to dive into my hole and cover my head, but then came Mr. Sir with the water truck, and as it was rattling to a stop, the car crashed into a hole.
I'm not sure what was going on before that huge crash; I think maybe my mind was wandering a little or something. But whatever my thoughts had been, the loud noise jarred me out of them. So when Mr. Sir leapt out of the water truck and rocketed off toward the wreck, hollering at us to stay back, of course I went rocketing after him along with the rest of D Tent.
We stood in a ring around the hole, probably looking like some kind of creepy Druid gathering. Yeah, I did say "Druid." Who says I never paid attention in school? I hardly ever zoned out in history. Knew I had to be prepared, see. There are too many people from history who might be out to get you.
Where was I...? Right! We were gathered around the hole, and Twitch looked down at that busted old green car like he'd just lost his best friend, but the rest of us were concentrating on the left passenger door to the back seat. Slowly, painstakingly, grating against the dusty bottom of the hole, that door opened. And a figure, a living human figure, half-climbed, half-tumbled out into the dust.
The excited chatter was instantly silenced. Seven mouths hung open so wide that their jaws threatened to unhinge. For this figure was more than living and human. It was a girl.
"Squid. Squid!" I pleaded wildly, turning to face the boy closest to me. "Tell me somethin', man. Is there a girl lyin' in the bottom of that hole?"
Squid had troubles of his own; he coughed violently several times before acknowledging me. He had almost choked on his toothpick. After making sure it was securely out of his throat and protruding from the corner of his mouth like usual, he turned and clapped me on the back.
"Yeah, Zig," he assured me. "There is."
X-Ray, meanwhile, had pulled off his glasses and was furiously rubbing them with the corner of his orange shirt. He finished cleaning them, put them back on, stared down into the hole, frowned, then removed them again and repeated the process. Armpit was nervously eyeing Mr. Sir, whose hand was trembling and clutching his gun in a white-knuckle grip, looking uncertain as to whether our visitor was a girl or a yellow-spotted lizard. Twitch was still spazzing out like usual, eyes sweeping up and down the length of the destroyed vehicle. Magnet was laughing. That kid could laugh at anything.
The girl dragged herself to a sitting position, gazing up at all of us with wide sapphire eyes. Blood trickled from a cut under one ear, brushing rusty stains through her wavy golden hair. She appeared dazed. Suddenly, she shook her head hard several times, gasped sharply as if in pain, winced, and collapsed back onto the sand again. At her next action, all of us jumped a mile; she let out a furious shout that must have echoed all over the desert.
"Minion!?!"
Before any of us could react to the exclamation, we discovered that the surprises were far from over. I jumped again at the sight of a hand extending through the open car door, beckoning frantically. With a soft groan, the girl kind of crawled over to the door. She seemed to be listening for a moment, but whatever voice she heard was too soft to reach our ears. Then she leaned forward, into the car, and when she slowly leaned back out, she had something large cradled in her arms.
God preserve us, it was another girl.
This one looked younger than the first, but not by much. She was skinny and had a dark, tan-olive complexion, almost like oatmeal. (A/N: Mush!! *grins at fellow Newsies fans* *cough* Sorry.) Her face was framed in a short, glossy mop of dark chestnut hair. Though her chest appeared to be rising and falling, her eyes were closed; she was obviously unconscious. Which of course placed the same question into all of our minds: Who was beckoning through the door?
The answer presented itself almost at once. The blonde girl, who was on her knees and overwhelmed by her burden, tumbled backward, the still lifeless brunette slumped beside her, and this left a small space cleared in front of the car door. Through that door and onto the sand hopped the third and final victim of the accident.
She was tiny.
When I say "tiny", I mean that I had never seen any teenager, boy or girl, who was smaller, with the possible exception of Zero. I mean that Twitch, at a towering 5'3", had a good six inches on her.
She was Asian, I noted from her appearance; porcelain skin, dark slanted eyes, and cascades of straight, silky jet-black hair. After the sight of her two companions, she came as somewhat of a shock. I just referred to her as the final "victim" of the accident, but that didn't seem the correct term at all. No cuts, no bruises, not so much as a scratch was visible on her body. She did not look dazed, or terrified, or upset, or even mildly ruffled, for God's sake. Not a drop of blood or sweat stained her face; not a lock of hair was out of place. She actually seemed perfectly calm and composed. Her mouth was relaxed in a straight line, and her eyes...I shivered the moment I met those eyes. They were blank, cold eyes...empty. Like two dark, secretive almond-shaped walls, trapping every shred of emotion inside. Those eyes flicked up to us, down to her two companions, then back up to us again in a motion as quick as light.
It was then that I noted that she held something cradled to her chest. Something large, something tattered, something yellow. I blinked incredulously several times; the girl's security object bore an uncanny resemblance to...a phone book?
The unsettling silence that had fallen over the bizarre little scene was broken, as silences often were, by Squid.
"Hey, Mr. Sir," he observed brightly, "looks like the Girl Scouts sellin' cookies."
