warning: vivid descriptions of porridge
Good Morning, Democracy
"Oh fuck this," I groaned, stepping into the ice cold shower. Honestly, you could have mistaken it for a hypothermia machine if it weren't for the long-ass queue outside. I rinsed as best I could, trying to peel off the layer of grime that had already settled on my skin, but deep down I knew that my efforts were futile. I'd seen the future, and it wasn't exactly hygienic.
Somewhat refreshed and still dressed in the same ensemble as yesterday - complete with the blood stains - I staggered outside. The kids were all scattered about, a few gossiping amongst themselves and others gathering sluggishly around the mess tent. I paced around idly for a while, occupied with my thoughts. The glade was pretty. A hazy peach hugged the top of the walls, orange sunlight pouring through the trees and casting dappled shadows across the green grass. Low chatter hung in the background of the peaceful air, only occasionally punctuated by a metallic clang emanating from the kitchen. Aside from the whole 'being trapped' thing, these teenagers had actually managed to make something close to a utopia for themselves. Did I really want to disrupt that so soon?
Yes, because I was a destructive little sod.
A rough hand suddenly gripped my shoulder and I spun around to see the same git who'd rudely awoken me earlier. Even though I'd told him to fuck off multiple times, he wouldn't get the hint, clearly. He smiled stiffly and pointed back to the mess tent.
"Uh, Alby got me to go fetch you 'cos he has an announcement to make at breakfast."
"Of course he does," I sighed, rubbing my eyes, "I'll be right there." I waited for a few moments for the boy to leave ahead of me so that I wouldn't have to endure that insanely awkward experience of walking alongside someone that you barely know and just refusing to exchange so much as glances; then began to make my own way there.
In lieu of the expected mush, Frypan's food actually smelled pretty good. A sweet and heavy scent choked the air around the serving table. The bowls weren't too crusty. The guys around me weren't too shovy. The porridge looked like it actually had some texture to it. Once I grabbed my serving, I wandered to one of the more out-of-the-way-spots. Alby had made specifically sure that I was here, so the least I could do was draw as little attention to myself as possible. Yes, I usually thrived on the stuff, but it was too damn early and I clearly did not have the high ground right now.
And despite all of that, Minho's gaggle parked themselves not two seats away, almost as if they were keeping an eye on me. Oh yeah, cos the girl who broke her arm yesterday could do some real damage if they didn't watch out. I nibbled on my porridge, occasionally glaring daggers at them. Just to, y'know, make sure they knew that I knew - thud.
My eyes darted up to where Alby was, having smacked the table to grab everyone's attention. Newt stood placidly by his side, arms crossed as if a row could break out any minute.
"I have an announcement to make," he scanned the scene hawkishly, "A meeting is going to be held at 3 in which we decide how to handle Bea's claims. She will be invited, along with any of you with strong opinions on the matter, as per mine and Newt's agreement." Alby nodded towards me as I shovelled another spoonful of porridge into my mouth. "That's all, thank you."
Conversation started up again and the two helped themselves to whatever was left of breakfast. I looked down at my own bowl and shook my head, fully aware of the looks I was receiving from Minho's running posse. Ah crap. Fucking democracy was gonna decide this.
Author's Note: This is probably the last chapter for a while because I have officially run out of stockpile chapters. Hope you enjoyed this season of Bea fucks up the easiest things in the world, and I'll see you at some point in the New Year,perhaps with a plot, who knows?
Have a great holiday, people. I appreciate you reading my nonsense :)