Author stuff: I'm sure it's just the rain.
Chapter 13
In Which The Girlie Doesn't Feel Good
For the first time since they'd been in the Glade – the first time in two and a half weeks – it was raining. Flossy marvelled at the weather from under the shelter of the boys' sleeping area. It was an open-ended extended hut of sorts with hammocks strung up, and sleeping bags rolled up and tucked away for less rainy days. Lanterns hung from twine or chains from support beams, and torches pierced the soft ground to light the area. They remained snuffed out and would remain that way until it was too dark to see with the dying rays of the sun.
They had all congregated there, waiting for the sky to clear so they could get to work. Some sat on their hammocks or on the ground. Others were perched on trunks and crates stacked together holding their personal belongings. They all hung together in little cliques, chatting amicably amongst themselves.
She reached out, cupping her hand to catch the rain. The water droplets were warm in her hand, something she hadn't been expecting. She watched, fascinated, as it gathered in her palm and started to drip out between her fingers.
"It should end soon," Zart said next to her. "The Gardens will be muddy, but the rain does them a world of good."
"Will your tomatoes be okay?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Oh ha ha."
She grinned at him, like the cat who caught the canary. She turned her eyes to look at the clouds. They were dark and heavily laden with rain.
"What if it doesn't stop any time soon?"
"Then we wait it out."
Her eyes scanned the group. Almost everyone looked miserable or bored, or miserable and bored. She could understand it. But, still, it was raining. It was like a little miracle of some sort.
It was mostly Track-hoes, Sloppers, and Baggers waiting around. The Builders, as well as the Bricknicks, have been called to the [edit:building] hut to work; the Slicers had their animals to take care of; the Med-jacks were almost always kept a little busy with one thing or another; the Cooks had meals to prepare; and the Runners always ran no matter the weather. Which meant, half of the people she knew were working.
She wiped her hand on her dirt stained cargo shorts and watched as their small world was washed clean. She leaned against one of the support beams.
It continued to rain on.
Lunch came and passed – sandwiches again, ham and swiss with honey mustard on rye this time, lightly toasted – and, still, it rained.
She watched a game of Stung – where one person pretends to have been stung by a Griever (she still had no idea what that was and had an increasing desire to never find out) and slowly picks off other people in the Glade while one person (the Creator) oversaw the thing. It looked amusing, but she wasn't particularly feeling too good. She actually felt chilled and her abdomen would give little stabs on pains every now and again.
It was evident by mid-afternoon that the rain was not going to stop. The temperature in the Glade dropped, making her wrap her arms around herself as she fought to keep warm.
"Hey," Zart said, tapping her arm to get her attention, "you should go lie down in the Med-hut. You aren't looking too good."
"Yeah," she said, getting to her feet. She dusted off the seat of her cargo shorts.
"Want me to escort you there?"
"No, I think I can make it on my own."
"Think or know?"
"I'll be fine. Just keep these shanks out of trouble, okay?"
"Good that."
She made her way to the Med-hut, ducking underneath shelters when she could. She still managed to get wet, however, and was thankful when Jeff offered her a blanket when she reached them.
"What's up, Girlie?" he said, watching as she curled up on a cot. The blanket soaked up the water from her hair and clothes. She hoped she wouldn't get sick from that.
"Not feeling too good," she said. "It might just be the rain. Mind if I stay here until I feel better?"
"Go right on ahead. No one's getting much work done today, anyway. Let us know if you need anything."
"Good that." She wasn't sure if she actually finished the phrase, as she started to doze off, but he seemed to understand her anyway.
Her sleep wasn't dreamless.
There were people dressed all in white, holographic screens, a familiar looking man was there whispering incoherent things to her, and a blonde woman with a stern expression on her face. But she couldn't recall anything of what was said or what anyone was doing or what was on the screens. It made her feel sad, though. As if… as if she had been a part of it, as if she had been one of them somehow.
She was woken by Jeff nudging her awake with a bowl of soup. It smelled good.
"It's past dinner time," he said quietly. "Feeling any better?"
She sat up. Did she feel better? Well, she didn't feel worse. She still felt chilled, but the pangs in her abdomen were gone. So, she shrugged, taking the bowl and spoon from him. It was warm in her hands. She tentatively ate it. It was vegetable soup – caramelized onions and garlic, fire roasted tomatoes, sweet peas and corn, and potatoes seasoned with some oregano, thyme, rosemary, and basil.
"I think I might be fine to go back to my room for the night," she said. She noted that the blanket had been swapped out. "I could have just been feeling off because of the rain."
He nodded.
"Just let us know if you still don't feel any better, good that?"
"Good that."
She finished off the bowl and waved to them, deciding to bring the bowl to the kitchens for the Sloppers to wash. The rain had slowed to a sort of mist, hanging over everything. The Deadheads looked all the more dreary and menacing.
She really just wanted to go back to sleep – to dissect the strange dream she'd had. It was the first she could remember since she arrived. What did it mean? What was it about? Was it a memory?
"Are you feeling any better?"
She jumped at the voice, brandishing the bowl and spoon as weapons. It was only Gally. He scuffed the toes of his boots, as if he felt embarrassed about startling her.
"Hey," she said, clutching the bowl close to her.
"Sorry."
"No, it's, um, it's okay." She bit her lip and nodded. "And yeah, I'm feeling better. It was probably the rain that was making me, uh, making me a little feel off."
"Good. That's… Good that. Not the whole, uh, yeah, but you feeling better."
"Yeah."
They stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to do or say something. Why did she have to be so awkward around him?
"I'm just going to bring this to the Kitchens real quick," she said, holding up the bowl and spoon.
"I'll go with you," he said. She shrugged and let him follow her. The Sloppers were happy to see her up and about. They wanted to talk, but she had to wave them off.
"I'm okay," she said, making sure to give them a tired smile. "Jeff told me to go sleep in my own bed tonight and to go back tomorrow if I still don't feel well."
She was able to leave with little protest – they all wanted to see her healthy, after all – and Gally made sure she made it back to her room unbothered. He hung by her door, making sure she got in safely and locked the bolt. She was certain that if he remained being this sweet and kind to her that she would never get over the (possible) crush that was starting to form.
"I'll be fine tomorrow," she said.
"I'm sure," he said.
"Really, I will be. You'll see me working in the Gardens tomorrow morning, bright and early."
"Uh huh."
"Gally?"
"Yeah?"
"You can go now. I'll be fine. Just an off day, that's all."
"Right."
"Good night, Gally."
"Night, Princess."
She rolled her eyes and closed the door. She was about to lock it when there was a knock.
"Gally, I told you –" she said, stopping when she saw Nick. "Oh, um, hi."
"Heard that you spent the day in the Med-hut," he said, pushing up his glasses. "You feeling okay?"
"Yeah. I was just feeling a little off was all."
"Don't make it a thing, okay? Can't go too soft on you because you're our only Girlie."
"I already feel better, honest. And I'll try not to."
"Good that." He nodded and started to walk away when he stopped to look back at her. "And what was that about Gally when you opened the door?"
"Oh, uh, nothing," she said, ducking her chin and begging herself not to blush – though she wasn't entirely certain why. She no doubt failed. "Just… He was worried and made sure that I made it back here safe is all."
"Uh huh. Well, night, Girlie." She didn't like the way he was smirking.
"Good night."
Boys were stupid. It was just an off day, she'd be better in the morning. All she probably needed was a decent sleep – something she wasn't necessarily lacking, but everyone needs one from time to time.
Yeah, that's all it was.
Author stuff cont'd.: Stung is basically Werewolf or Mafia. They're fun party games.
I miss parties. Ah, Corona, you fiendish beast.
And vegetable soup is so good. Partially cooking some of the ingredients beforehand can actually give you plenty of flavor and bring in new ones that you don't expect. I highly recommend it. Also, those are all the ingredients I use in my vegetable soup. The only thing that's missing is kidney beans (either red or white, depending on what's available).
Just want to mention ahead of time, that after I post chapter 20, I will be taking a week long break from posting chapter 21. This is so I can organize the second part of this fic. I have a couple of scenes I rewrote that I want to edit a little more and write a few more things. This is a little over a month away, but I thought I'd give y'all a heads up.
What am I listening to? Behind the Bastards (Learn about the worst people in history on a comedy podcast)
Follow me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods for writing updates, prompts, history and archaeology, and fandom nonsense.
