Dexter clapped her hard on the back, almost sending Red to the concrete pavement. He grinned. "There you go; the hardest part of this whole gig is over. You’re above ground."
* * * * *
Two weeks later Red listened to the soft crunch of hair between the scissors as it slowly separated the strands from her head. One of the things that she’d read about a year or more ago, was an organization called Locks of Love. She knew that she wanted her long, never cut hair to go to that organization. So Dexter had taken her to a salon, they’d put her hair in a couple of braids, and cut it off, almost at the scalp. She had way more hair than the ten inch minimum that the organization required. This charity provided hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada if the kids lost their hair from any medical issue.
She kept her eyes shut. Her hair was one thing she had always wanted to be rid of. Although she wouldn't be so daring as to cut it all off, she wanted it away from her shoulders and out of her face.
Dexter had told her he would let her get a haircut before she embarked on the mission. Where she’d gotten her hair color had always been a mystery as her dad had been blonde and her mother had red hair. Her hair was solid black.
"Okay, you can open your eyes."
She opened them. Staring back at her in the mirror was a completely different person. The hair was still feminine, but it no longer brushed her shoulders. Instead it was stiff and went just below her ears. She had bangs that swept to one side and hair that barely brushed the base of her neck. It looked wiry and stylish. It was definitely better than the long mane she had before.
She brushed a hand through it, placing a hand over her face just to make sure that it was her reflection staring back. She was surprised that she had taken the mission so far already. The impact of her decision was sure to hit at any moment, but for the meantime, she was enjoying the change and excitement.
She rose to her feet and smiled at the lady hairdresser, who snipped the scissors at her in reply, smiling regrettably.
"It's a shame you wanted it all cut off, dear. Your hair really was lovely. But Locks of Love will be ecstatic with this. I’ll send it in tomorrow."
She smiled and nodded in return, thanking her quietly. Dexter was standing by the window in the waiting room and when she entered, he turned. His reaction to the new style was amusing.
He coughed on the tea he’d been drinking from a paper cup. He wiped his sleeve along his mouth before giving her his opinion. "Wow," he said, stepping forward to look closer.
She snorted and pushed him on the shoulder, indicating that they should leave. As they walked along the pathway after exiting the barbers, she noticed that she seemed to receive a lot more stares from girls and guys than she had on the way to salon. Dexter's eyes were planted on her the entire time too.
"Who knew that behind those long bangs of yours, you had a pair of beautiful blue eyes," he finally said.
She let out a nervous laugh, blushing at the compliment. It'd been so long since she’d looked at her appearance in the mirror, she didn't even remember that her eyes were blue. "Shut up," she murmured.
His silence indicated that his teasing was finished. "Guess now that little task is complete we should move on. We probably should buy you some new clothes, but frankly I have no idea what to buy a teenage girl, unfortunately you don’t know either. You’ve got some money, you may have to take care of your wardrobe the as things come up.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have a clue what to buy. Clothes aren’t important.”
“You still want to go through with this?" Dexter asked.
She almost didn't hear him because she was too busy observing her surroundings. There was so much she wanted to see, but there wasn't enough time to study it all. And that meant that maybe this was the right time for her to emerge from her safety cocoon.
In the past two weeks she’d been given a crash course on what Blaine was capable of. She thought back to the images she’d been shown of Blaine’s murder victims, suicide letters from drug addicts unable to pay his fees, goodbye letters from loved ones written on the Underground train by one of the hundreds of people that had died in one of a number of Blaine's terrorist attacks. She shuddered. "Yes, I'm sure."
"We didn’t have time to go back over your training, or make sure that you're fit enough to escape any pursuit. I'm certain that it won't be necessary anyway, your primary responsibility is to keep surveillance on the target." Dexter ducked inside a tiny metal van. It was full of computer equipment and barely had enough room for her. It had been two weeks since she had first exited Headquarters and already she was being shipped off to the camp.
Swallowing, she adjusted her hair and rearranged her clothing. She took the miniature camera that Dexter handed her. It was in the shape of an NFL pin, something that a fan would wear. This one was of the Denver Broncos. Great. She hoped no one asked her any questions about the team. Her knowledge was limited to the fact that the team was from Denver.
Colorado…probably.
It could be pinned onto any piece of clothing she wanted to wear. In this case, it was attached to a white t-shirt with an open black shirt and a pair of black three—quarter length trousers.
"Speak to us through this," Dexter handed her a small mic in the form of a boat pin. She attached it to her shirt alongside the football pin.
"You can hear us through this. When it flashes red, and starts to vibrate, put it in your ear." He passed her a rubbery pin that was in the shape of a dog.
She decided to clip that one on the inside of her pocket.
He leaned back in his small computer chair and picked up a packet. Then he moved over and handed it to her. "Your dorm assignment and the part of the camp you'll be staying in, is specified in your acceptance letter. Te rest of the packet has rules and regulations, schedules, that sort of thing."
She looked in the packet and pulled out a sheet of paper. Reading it, she frowned at the name of the dorm building. "Royal Haven?" she said out loud.
Dexter shrugged and opened his hands, staring at her in sympathy. It was hard to tell why though. When she continued to look at him questioningly, he sighed in defeat and tried to explain. "The camp is split into two sides. There is a wealthy section, and a not so wealthy section. The kids in the rich area seem to run the camp, no surprise there. It's not that the people who occupy the other side can't live in Royal Haven; it's just that they tend not to last long without being shunned, bullied, and forced to leave. You are in for a tough time kiddo. We can’t come up with enough money to make it seem as if you belong with these snobs."
She stared at Dexter, confused. Not because what he said was confusing, she understood that the kids in the dorm would hate her on sight. It didn’t matter. She was just curious as to how he had managed to find out this information. His sources were amazing. "So—I’m in the rich side?"
Dexter nodded slowly, as though waiting for her complain, or explode in anger, or something.
Which she didn't, maybe because she was too naive for her own good. "Do I leave now?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at Dexter.
He nodded; his slightly surprised expression went unnoticed.
She turned to open the door to the van.
"Wait," he moved forward and placed a shoulder on her arm. She stopped and looked back at him.
"You'll be sharing the dorm floor with three people. One of them is Zane Noble. I won't show you his picture, because then you won't accidentally let it slip that you know who he is. Best that you learn who he is from your own experience. You know what you've got to do, right?" he asked.
She nodded. “But wait, you said that we’ll be on the same floor, are they allowed to have coed floors?”
“Yeah, that one surprised me too. The floors can be coed. Girls on one side, boys on the other, with live—on floor monitor that is supposed to make sure the rules are adhered to. You have a list of those rules in the packet. So you know what you are supposed to do?
” he repeated.
She nodded again. "Make friends with him, keep by his side at all times and when I see something suspicious, radio in!" She tapped the boat on her shirt.
Dexter gave her a soft smile before giving her thumbs up.
She waved and jumped out of the van, holding the handle and nodding one more time at Dexter.
"Good luck!" he called as she shut the door.
* * * * *
After she closed the door to the van, she turned around and closed her eyes, waiting until she heard the van pull away before opening them again.
She bit back her gasp when she noticed a long, stretch limousine pull up and drop off one boy, who clambered out without batting an eyelash. She had read about these things, or seen them on the Internet, seeing them in real life was mesmerizing.
"Hey, kid. Don't gape too hard, you'll swallow a fly."
An arm landed around her shoulder and she stared at it, before raising her eyes to the owner. A boy with long, brown hair tied into a ponytail, and glasses framing his thin face, grinned at her and tugged her with the arm that was currently over her shoulder.
"Come on, I'll show you around."
She allowed him to drag her through the archway, looking around hurriedly for any chance of escape. There wasn't any. How was she supposed to interact with the boy? She'd never socialized before. All seven members of the Task Force were really part of her family and didn’t count. She’d never talked to someone her own age.
"Name’s Rupert. You're new here, judging by the blank expression and confusion in your eyes," the boy shook her limp hand with his other arm and then looked up to the sky as they walked along a gravel pathway. "This place isn't for the faint—hearted," he continued, looking back down at her. His eyes narrowed. "Man, you sure do look feminine."
She coughed awkwardly and moved away, pushing his arm off of her shoulder. She shook her head. "That's because I’m a girl." She put her head down and kept walking.
"Oh,” he said quietly behind her. Footsteps hurried after her and the arm returned over her shoulder.
Rupert pushed his face close to hers. "I did wonder why you looked so cute. Usually rich girls like to keep their hair long, so I mistook you for a guy. Sorry. I'll show you to your dorm to make up for mistaking you for a pretty boy. You're definitely going to get lost in this place," he reached over and took the sheet out of her hand before she could stop him. His eyes widened as he read the name of the dorm at the top of page. He swallowed and stared at her, his eagerness from before completely evaporated. He looked around cautiously, and then leaned in towards her.
"You know how Sunnyside Summer Camp works... right?"
She nodded and snatched the sheet back out of his hand. She started to walk off, but Rupert just followed, jumping to her side.
"You've got to be joking! Showing up there uninvited is like committing suicide," he moved forward and hissed. "You'll get killed."
She frowned and shook her head. "No, I won't."
The boy looked at her anxiously, then sighed and threw his arm back over her shoulder.
Were boys usually this touchy feely? She wondered.
"Look, I'll show you to your dorm and explain a bit on the way there."
What was this kid, a mediator? Was it really this easy to make friends in the real world?
Her new friend looked around cautiously before leaning in to whisper, "Royal Haven has three floors. The bottom floor is for those who are important enough to be in Haven, but not important enough to be on the second or third floors. It's like a ranking system and no one messes with it." Rupert shook her with his arm. "You're on the top floor. There are only three people who are allowed to live on the top floor and one of them really isn’t supposed to be you."
She sighed and looked at the boy. His overall appearance seemed to shock her every time she looked at him. There was an element of... what had Dexter used to describe her? Cute. There was an element of cuteness about him. She removed his hand from her shoulder.
"This is a summer camp, right? Not some messed up school where stereotypical gangs gather together." She'd read in a book that one of the agents had brought down for her, that schools tended to have such groups.
Rupert laughed, "That's just it. That's exactly what this place is like. They may not be inner—city gangs, but they are still a force to be reckoned with."
She stopped walking and stared at him. It was getting more and more complicated. Gangs? If there were groups like he said there was, where was she supposed to fit in? Would Zane Noble be in one of those groups?
Rupert tugged her arm, gesturing for her to continue walking. "It's like an orange that's been split in half; there are the important kids and the not—so—important kids. Within those two different segments are lots of other different segments, see?"
She nodded; quite impressed that he had used such a simple metaphor. She looked at her surroundings, in search of anyone who might have been Zane, but all that surrounded her were trees and other people walking in pairs or alone. It was like students walking to school.
Suddenly, Rupert tugged her into an opening at the right. A pair of black, huge gates that were opened revealed an imposing building.
She barely had time to catch her breath. Where the hell had that been hiding? Obviously somewhere among the trees. As Rupert led her up the huge, circular drive, the gravel crunched beneath her feet, she turned. They’d just exited through a green archway. It seemed the forest they had been walking through was nothing more than a tunnel.
"Incredible," she muttered.
Rupert didn't hear her, or if he did, he didn’t comment. He led her to the front of the huge, elegant door with a grim expression on his face.
She stared at him, noticing by his expression that something about the place severely displeased him.
"Good luck," he muttered to her.
She opened her mouth to thank him, but he turned and left before she had a chance. She frowned at his back, and then turned around to face the front door. She raised a hand to open the door knob only to have it open before she could grasp it.
"Hm. The newbie's here."
Lips. That was where her gaze was firmly planted. Not by her own free will. The boy in front of her was just so damn tall. Or she was so damn short. Her eyes drifted slowly up to his and her blue clashed with his cold gray.
She couldn't find the correct words to describe him. Did he look like an angel? A God? She knew one thing. He was impossibly beautiful.
Chapter 2: Yellow
During her life underground, she hadn't even watched DVD's. She had a phobia of the outside world. She did specific research on the Internet, but she didn’t even have online friends. She'd never met anyone except those in the Task Force.
And Rupert, who she’d only met a few seconds ago.
"You're just going to stand there?" She snapped out of her trance. The boy's windswept black hair and huge, slightly slanted bright eyes still dazed her. She settled on looking away and staring at the door frame, thrusting out her arms pathetically with the letter grasped tightly in her hands.
"I—I’m your new dorm member." She pushed the letter towards him.
He crossed his arms and looked down at it as though she had passed him something filthy. "I’m not stupid. No other idiot would have the guts to knock on this door without having a decent reason." He stepped back with his arms still crossed and pushed the door open, allowing her to step inside.
She lowered her arms, keeping her eyes on his beautiful face. Then when he let out a sigh of impatience, she hurriedly leaned backwards to reach for her suitcase. It fell on the ground, so she had to bend to pick it up before scurrying inside. She kept her eyes on him cautiously as she dragged her suitcase in, but drew her gaze away the moment she entered the dorm. All along the hallway, huge doors were open and attractive, rich—looking boys and girls leaned against the walls with their arms crossed, a look of disgust across all of their faces. She swallowed and walked through the spa
ce in between all of them, keeping her eyes on the ground and only raising them occasionally to look at the people she passed by.
She caught sight of the inside of a room and resisted the urge to stop as she passed it. She heard the boy's footsteps following behind her and she raised her head to gape at the huge staircase that was stretched out in front of her. Her room was on the top floor and currently, she stood at the bottom. Would the second floor be the same way?
She slowly began to climb the stairs, still feeling eyes planted firmly on her back. Had she done something wrong? Maybe they could feel her nervousness. She took a slow, deep breath and relaxed, making her way up the stairs more confidently. The journey through the second floor was the same. Why did the place have to be so damned big? She could feel the daggers being thrust into her back.
When she finally reached the third floor, she noticed that the hallway was a lot smaller than the ones she had just come through. There were only three doors on either side of the hall, indicating that only six rooms were up here. Dexter had said that only three of them were used, and that the hall was divided, with girls on one side and boys on the other. She looked at the letter in her hand and took note of the room number. She headed over to the door which held the number and sighed in relief. At least here she could relax.
She opened the door and her suitcase clattered to the hard, sparkling tiles beneath her.
The entire room was covered in what seemed to be a white powder. And when she had opened the door, the powder had reacted to the gust of wind and now, she was covered in the same substance.
Loud barks of laughter echoed from the staircase she had just ventured up and she turned, raising a hand to wipe the substance out of her eyes as she did so. The boy who had answered the door stood in front of the loud collection of laughing people, his arms folded and an evil smirk across his beautiful face.
"You don't belong here," he said bluntly, taking a step towards her. She looked up at him with frightened eyes, but stuck her chin out determinedly. She'd learned how to deal with big, burly men for the past fifteen years; she shouldn't be scared of a boy the same age as her.
Sunnyside Up with Red Ketchup Page 2
