A/N: I am so sorry at how little happens in this
chapter. And I am even sorrier because I haven't updated since the Stone Age.
To any reviewers who remain: I love you.
So very, very much. If you keep reviewing, I will love you even more. ;-) And I promise another
update very soon, and more frequent updates in the
future. Individual Shout Outs in the next chapter, too! For now, this is
basically just another scrap to tide you over...and let me know what you think
of Minion. ^_^
Chapter Four: Scraps and Threads
Point Of View: Squid
"Assistance, if offered, would likely be accepted."
It was the little kid who said
that. Well, not little, maybe, as in young. Little as in short. That was the only thing I
had really bothered to notice about her. My gaze had quickly darted to her two
more interesting companions. That blonde was quite a sight. She wore blue jeans
studded with bobby pins, a hot-pink tank top spangled with rhinestones, and
over it, a long- sleeved black leather jacket. The effect was blatantly
bizarre. It was an eyesore. I couldn't bear to look at it for long, so my full
attention ended up on the unconscious girl in her arms.
She wasn't much to look at,
really. Brown hair, olive complexion, dressed all preppy and conservative in a
sky-blue blouse and long skirt. Plain, ordinary, boring...I chewed my faithful
toothpick, and found that I couldn't stop staring.
Then, right after my automatic
"Girl Scouts" wisecrack, the little Asian girl said those words:
"Assistance, if offered, would likely be accepted." Weird way of
putting it, but it kind of jump-started us all into action. In an instant, I
had hopped over to the edge of the hole and bent down to offer my hand. It
joined five other hands; suddenly all of D Tent was vying to offer their
assistance.
"Well, don't all volunteer
at once," muttered the blonde one...the rebel, I updated my label, eyeing
that jacket. Despite the blood now trickling down her face, she still managed
to sound peeved about the several moments we had wasted standing there
shell-shocked and useless. She looked around at us, presumably for whoever was
closest and handiest, and I was startled when her eye fell on me. And,
purposefully, without a single word or gesture of warning, she thrust her limp friend
up into my arms.
Of course, I staggered backward
and came extremely close to falling over; not because the girl was heavy, which
she wasn't, but because I hadn't been in any way prepared for her weight. As
the other guys snickered, I righted myself, glanced down at my new cargo, and
perked up a little. It's not every day you get a teenage girl dumped in your
arms. Sure, she wasn't exactly gorgeous, but this was Camp Green Lake. No girls for over a hundred
miles, you know? Unless, of course, you happen to count the Warden...which,
believe me, you don't.
While all this was running
through my mind, and I was grinning like an idiot, Zigzag and X-Ray were
hauling up the rebel. Magnet took one look at the last remaining chick and
didn't bother with pleasantries; he just got down on his stomach, extended his
arms into the hole, and swung her up like she was some kind of feather; which,
at her size, she may as well have been. A feather in a black
top and matching knee-length skirt, cradling this big yellow book. Go
figure.
It was around that time that
Mr. Sir finally recovered his wits, with an action that scared me half to
death: he stuffed his gun into its holster and leapt toward me. Out of pure
reflex, I leapt back, my nerves going on edge. Mr. Sir...he just freaks me out.
We don't exactly have the greatest record. It's especially stained by a certain
incident involving stupid Magnet's klepto habits, stupid Caveman's nobleness,
the Warden's nail polish, and my big mouth. Anyway, I tend to be edgy around
adults in general. Never met one I liked or trusted in the least; probably
never will. But I'm starting to sound like Zigzag here, getting totally off
topic. Back to the action.
Well, it turned out Mr. Sir
wasn't after me at all. He was just trying to take that girl from me. I'd
actually forgotten I was still holding her. To tell the truth, I wasn't real
thrilled about handing her over to Mr. Sir, but what else was I supposed to do?
The transfer took place, and then he turned impatiently toward the blonde
rebel, who was still being supported by X-Ray and Zigzag; looked like she'd
taken more damage than just a cut under the ear.
"What's goin' on
here?" he growled at her, spit flying from his mouth onto the sand.
"Who are you gals, an' whadda ya think you're doin', drivin' out here in
the middle of nowhere? Should I even bother addin' that not one of you looks
old enough to be drivin' legally?"
The expression that girl gave
Mr. Sir was priceless. I wish I could learn to make really sarcastic faces like
that, even if the effect of hers was slightly lessened by the fact that her
face was still twisted in pain. She looked like the kind of chick who could
have come up with a perfect smartass comeback on most occasions, but in her
present condition, all she could manage was a grumbled, "Well, what are
you all doin' out here 'in the middle of nowhere'?"
Mr. Sir glared down at her.
"This," he informed her, "is Camp Green Lake, a disciplinary facility for
juvenile delinquents. It helps troubled youth build character."
"You hear that,
Minion?" the blonde spoke up brightly. "They can help you build
character!" She shot a glare at the little girl, who didn't even respond.
I couldn't get over that name. Minion!?
Who the hell names their kid Minion?
Well, much as he probably would
have loved to continue that verbal battle, Mr. Sir apparently remembered then
that he was holding some unconscious chick. Also, the position of his
"opponent" was not a particularly threatening one; she still had one
hand pressed to the side of her head, blood seeping between her fingers, and I
doubt she would have admitted it, but it was obvious she wouldn't have been
able to stand without the support she was receiving. I guess these conditions
brought out a flicker of good citizenship in Mr. Sir, 'cause he looked our
visitors over and announced, "You three need to get to a hospital."
"Ooh...ya think?"
Scowling at her, Mr. Sir raised
his eyebrows at X-Ray and Zigzag and lifted his chin toward the water truck.
Obediently, they led the blonde rebel over to it, and helped her into the back.
Mr. Sir followed, still carrying the brunette. As he stepped up into the truck,
he glanced back at the one remaining "casualty."
"You comin'?" he
called gruffly.
Her eyes swept upward to meet
his, her vision seeming to bridge the distance between them. Slowly and
deliberately, she shook her head twice. Mr. Sir narrowed his eyes, ready to
argue.
"Erm...not to rush you or
nothin', but I'm kinda bleedin' in here!"
I quirked an eyebrow and
suppressed a laugh as Mr. Sir turned slightly red.
"Don't worry about
Minion," the voice added dismissively. "She ain't hurt. The whole
thing's her fault, anyway."
I glanced at the girl called
Minion, but these words seemed to have no effect
whatsoever on her. Her expression didn't even change. They had an effect on Mr.
Sir, though. He had a zonked-out girl in his arms, another bleeding in his truck,
and was altogether rather impatient to get going and get them off his hands.
Rolling his eyes, he shouted something about coming back for the Minion chick
after seeing to her friends. Then he hopped into the truck and, without further
ado, drove it off across the camp compound. We all watched until it snaked
around a cluster of tents, beyond which it disappeared.
As soon as the water truck was
out of sight, the four remaining guys...Armpit, Magnet, Twitch, and
I...directed our attention to the only sensible outlet: the so- called
"Minion".
"What happened?" I
demanded, almost spitting out my toothpick with excitement. "Where'd y'all
come from? What're y'all doin' drivin' around out here?"
"You
runnin' away or somethin'?" Armpit guessed. "'Cause lemme tell
ya somethin', girl: Camp Green Lake ain't the place to run away
to."
"Su amiga morena es muy linda,"
was a grinning Magnet's sentiment; not that any of us understood it.
We were all speaking so loudly
and animatedly that, despite its enthusiastic tone, I barely heard Twitch
hopefully toss out a question of his own: "Didja hot- wire that car?"
Oddly enough, however, when her
calmly raised hand silenced our interrogation, it was Twitch's question, and his
only, that Minion answered. Quite deliberately, she turned to him and looked
him straight in the eye till the poor kid squirmed...even more than usual, I
mean.
And then, she did exactly the
opposite of what she had for Mr. Sir: very slowly, she nodded twice.
"Yes," she replied,
in that soft, cold, even voice...weirdest voice I ever heard. "Yes, we
did."
"Did what?" Armpit
questioned blankly, then flinched when Minion turned
her emotionless, icy gaze on him.
"Hot-wired
the car."
I almost laughed at that. I
guess you'd have to hear that girl's voice to know what I mean, but she sounded
like...I dunno...a combination of a robot and a college professor. It was
somehow real funny to hear her use a word like "hot-wired."
Twitch's eyes were as wide as
saucers. "Really?" he moaned enviously, hands clutching at imaginary
controls.
"I knew that blonde chick
was a rebel the moment I saw her," I announced, smirking at Twitch.
"Bet she had that car goin' faster than you ever could've."
While Twitch scoffed at the
absurdity of this, the rest of us had other things on our minds.
"So," Magnet spoke
up, "who was your friend, the one that got knocked out?" His casual
tone had a distinctly false feel to it. For some reason, it ticked me off a
little, but all I said was, "Yeah, who was she?"
"Who cares?" scoffed
Armpit. "The blonde was ten times cuter--"
"What model was it?"
murmured Twitch.
"Toyota," Minion replied.
Twitch snickered. "No
loss, then."
"You ever gonna tell us
how you got here?" Magnet persisted.
"Ain't you worried about
your friends?" I suddenly thought to ask, as it occurred to me how strange
it was that she had not wanted to ride in the truck with them and make sure
they were all right.
"How come Zig an' X got to
go with them?" Armpit griped.
"What's with the phone
book?" murmured Twitch.
"Telephone books,"
Minion explained, "are records of people, and the places they belong, and
a simple, unique code in which each person, if stationed at the appropriate
location, may be reached, and forced to listen, and to reply."
Dead silence fell. Magnet
turned wide, knowing brown eyes to the rest of us.
"This chica's as loca as
Zigzag!"
I had to agree, although I was
still trying to process everything she'd said. "I never looked at phone
books quite that way before," I admitted, eyeing hers with new respect.
"Is Minion your real name?"
Twitch wondered.
"Minion," answered
Minion, "is as real a name as any you will find here."
I thought I kind of understood
that one. She meant it was a nickname, but the only thing she would answer
to...just like ours. Hey, she'd caught on pretty quick to our whole nickname
deal. Well, something gave me the feeling that she caught on pretty quick to a
lot of things.
"Hey," observed
Magnet brightly, "Minion here's just like Zero. 'Member
how he only talked to Caveman and all? Well, she only talks to Twitch."
I definitely saw him gulp when
those almond-shaped eyes selected him as their next victim, neatly pinning him
in place like a butterfly collector pinning a specimen.
And she proved Magnet's theory
wrong. She spoke to him...in flawlessly accented Spanish. "Su amigo al lado de usted piensa que Rosa es interesante tambiƩn."
Now, I have absolutely no idea
what that kid said, but whatever it was made Magnet's dark complexion flush.
And for some reason, he turned around and stared quizzically, almost
suspiciously, at me.
"Uh...Magnet?"
I blinked, glancing from him to Minion and back. "What'd she say?"
I couldn't tell too well from
that poker face, but Minion seemed to be enjoying his reaction. "Oh,
nothing of great importance," she assured me smoothly, and then continued
as if the sound waves from all of our previous questions had not reached her
ears until that moment. "My rebellious blonde companion is named Kayla.
The one in whom certain parties take such interest..." Her eyes swept
quickly in my direction, though I couldn't quite tell whether her gaze was
meant for me or for Magnet. "...is Rose. We are runaways from a distant Texas town, who have come to be here by
attempting to follow a road map which did not align with the course preferred
by the stars."
"You got lost,"
Twitch translated cheerfully.
This time, I noted with a
certain amount of satisfaction, he got a taste of the deaf ear she had
previously turned on the rest of us. Instead of responding to him, she made an
abrupt proposal.
"I suspect that your
friends and mine have been taken to some sort of medical facility within this
camp, from which an ambulance will be contacted. It seems likely, however, that
such assistance would not be soon in arriving at such an isolated location.
Perhaps, in the meantime, it might be possible to locate them...your friends
and mine."
And with that, she turned away
from us and, with a swift, graceful and purposeful gait, still clutching her
precious phone book, and stepping delicately around every hole she encountered,
she headed across the camp compound.
We, the four remaining D-Tent
boys, exchanged uneasy glances.
"We ain't finished our
holes," I pointed out. "Mr. Sir won't like it if we..."
"Squid, buddy,"
Armpit interrupted, "a car just crashed into a hole an' three girls, two
of 'em hurt, got dropped more or less in Mr. Sir's lap. He ain't gonna be
worryin' 'bout us at the moment."
Magnet and Twitch seemed to be
in agreement. The three of them took off after that little freak...and what
could I do but follow?
A/N: I know...so uneventful! :-( Lo
siento! But please do let me know what you think, of the couple small plot
developments that are just budding, and of course, of creepy little Minion-chan.
