Chapter 61 CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Scarlett’s POV
I woke up vibrating. That was the only way to describe the feeling of excitement zipping through my veins. Even Rachael, who usually stayed buried under her duvet until the last possible second, peered at me with a suspicious squint. She could tell something was up, but she didn’t voice it. It’s good though, because I was still trying to figure out how much I could tell her without accidentally crossing one of Blue’s invisible lines.
I hummed to myself as I got ready, checking the mirror. My surgery site was healing beautifully and the skin was knitting back together into a neat, silvery line. I made a mental note to remind Blue about the honey salve application once I returned from my great mission.
Classes passed in a blur of anticipation. By the time I got to History, I was practically beaming. I walked through the door and gave Ms. Nina a cheerful greeting.
She looked at me with a face full of pure disgust. "That aura you’re carrying is almost an abomination in this building, Miss Rowe," she snapped, not even looking up from her notes. "What is there to be happy about in a place like this?"
I leaned against her desk, feeling strangely philosophical. "Have you ever just had things working out for you? Even when everything isn't totally figured out yet, you just feel... confident about the direction?"
Ms. Nina gave me a long, blank look, her pen poised mid-air. "Just go sit down, Scarlett. Before you give me a headache."
I chuckled and took my seat. My eyes briefly caught Katie’s. She was busy painting her nails a violent shade of electric blue, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. I was glad I hadn’t had many reasons to interact with her lately. I wasn't sure if I could keep it together and not go completely ballistic on her for everything she’d done.
The class started, but my mind began to wander. Ms. Nina announced a quiz for the end of the next class, which sparked a thought I hadn't really considered until now. Do we write actual tests and exams here? Or were we just expected to show up? How did the people in authority decide if we were reformed enough to be released? I tucked the question away; I’d have to ask someone about how the grading system worked in a place meant for young criminals.
Lunchtime arrived and I found myself scanning the dining hall for a specific shade of dark, messy hair. Nothing. Blue was nowhere to be seen.
I realized with a jolt of annoyance that I’d been subconsciously looking for him since the day started. Why? Was I really becoming that attached to him? It felt like a bad idea. Blue was going to leave Bellamy eventually, and even if we somehow made it out at the same time, would "us" even exist in the real world?
I ate my lunch gloomily, the excitement from the morning dampening slightly. I decided then and there that for the sake of my own sanity, I was going to ask him what we were. I just had to know. If he said we were nothing serious, I’d lick my wounds and move on, but the gray area was starting to feel stifling.
Then I remembered the vents. The gloom vanished, replaced by a fresh dose of adrenaline.
Rachael came to sit beside me, which was a first. I looked at her, confused, then glanced behind her. A group of girls—the ones Rachael usually hung out with—were clustered together at a far table, laughing and whispering while looking in our direction. Rachael ignored them, focusing entirely on her tray.
I didn't ask what had happened. I just reached over and stole one of her fries. Today’s lunch was actually manageable, which immediately made me paranoid. It isn't gonna be our last meal, right? I thought, eyeing the kitchen staff suspiciously.
Eventually, I made it to my last class of the day: "Picking the Surroundings." It was as dumb as it sounded. The coordinator seemed convinced that picking up litter would somehow restore our humanity. I trudged along with the other students, half-heartedly grabbing a few crumpled wrappers from the grass.
By 3:00 PM, I was finally free.
I resisted the urge to skip through the hallways. I’d learned my lesson about collisions. I hurried back to my room and grabbed the map, only to remember Blue’s weirdly specific instruction to only memorize the map.
I still didn't understand why, and I felt stupid for not asking. Wouldn't it be more productive to have the guide with me? Regardless, I obeyed. I dumped my bag, checked to make sure Rachael wasn't around, and pulled on a baseball cap. I didn't want my hair getting caught in a fan or covered in decades of dust.
I headed toward a small broom closet located near the male toilets. It was a cramped space that smelled of lemon bleach and old mops. According to the map, the primary residential intake vent was hidden behind a removable panel in the ceiling here.
I felt like there was something I should do first, some kind of prayer or a final check but my mind was blank. Should I just go in?
"I guess so," I whispered to the mops.
I did some ridiculous-looking stretches, feeling my joints pop, and was intensely glad there was no one around to see me. I pulled a rickety chair over, climbed up, and pried the metal grate loose. It opened with a rusty groan. Beyond it lay a narrow, dark tunnel. There was no light at the end of this particular tunnel.
It looked tight, but I could fit. Thank God I wasn't claustrophobic. Rachael would have lost her mind if she had to go in there; besides, there was no way her curves were making it through that opening.
"Stop stalling, Scarlett," I muttered to myself. A cleaner could walk in for supplies any second.
I pulled the small, high-powered flashlight I’d "borrowed" from Blue’s room out of my pocket. I gripped it tight, took one last deep breath of the bleach-scented air, and squeezed my body into the cold, metal space.
"Okay," I said, my voice echoing hollowly against the galvanized steel. "Here we go."