22: Rough Waters

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The only good thing about Pendanski calling tent meetings was that Mickey didn't have to stray far from the kitchen. She liked being there; people left her alone, it was quiet, turning a big glob of nothing into a semi edible glob of something filled her with pride despite the circumstances, and it relaxed her. Well, as much as she could relax while doing absolutely nothing like Caveman suggested.

She didn't get it, how he could be so...calm about it. She was on track to figuring out something, she knew it, she could feel it in her gut and her gut's never wrong. But here she was still biding her time for...what? He didn't seem to be making moves in any sort of direction about it all.

Not that she had much to go by either. She had information but, honestly, she didn't know what to do with it. She didn't have her phone, she didn't have access to the computer, and she was sure that her letters weren't reaching their intended destinations. The camp did a good job of keeping them in the dark, keeping them isolated, and keeping them quiet. Being quiet was what she was good at, it was taught to her practically from birth, it was ingrained in her DNA. But how could she use that to her advantage?

"P-Q-R-S-T," Armpit's belching recital broke into her thoughts. She blinked, shook her head, and forced herself to focus on the display ahead of her.

She didn't know how their tent meeting turned into a talent show. It was supposed to be about the steps they'd take to continue their education which segued into their favorite school subjects. (Like any of them gave a damn about school when they were collectively facing years of jail time.) And somehow it went completely off the rails and their meeting turned into a display of their hidden talents. Pendanski tried to get a hold of it, to create some semblance of rules and structure but he was shot down real fast.

Mickey, Caveman, and Magnet became the judges, scribbling down scores on a scrap bit of paper they found. Judging scores were up for debate and half points could be given or taken whenever someone felt like it. So far X-Ray had a score of 6.5 for whistling through his fists and sounding like a morning dove (how Zigzag knew it was a morning dove specifically, they didn't know). Zigzag rested at a 7.

"Y-and-Zeeeeeeee." Armpit held out the last note, pressing his hands against his stomach.

Mickey's nose wrinkled while applause broke out amongst the boys in the group. Well, she shouldn't complain. At least it was coming out the front end and not the back.

"That gets an eight," Magnet said, holding up the paper he'd put his score on.

"I'll say...7.5," Caveman said.

"I'm giving it a 5," Mickey announced.

"A five!?" Armpit's eyes widened. "Man, c'mon, I burped out the whole alphabet. Without soda."

"Zigzag peeled and ate a banana. With his feet!" Mickey replied. "Burping the alphabet isn't that hard. I could do that."

"Really?" X-Ray's eyes lit up behind his large glasses. "Do we get to see that trick?"

She brushed him off with a quick, "I'm a judge, I'm not participating. Okay, that averages your score out to..."

"Six point eight," Zero said at the tail end of Mickey's breath. The usual bit of silence followed Zero speaking up. He hadn't said a word since they returned to the Mess Hall for the meeting. Not that it was out of the norm, but he watched them all, eyes bouncing around every time someone spoke. Following the conversation like a haunted painting on a wall, eyes shifting from side to side.

She quickly did the math on her paper and smiled. "Yeah, that's right! Thanks, Zero." She lifted her smile his way. He stared back at her. She felt it all the way down to her toes. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she sucked in a breath, followed by clearing her throat. "Okay then. Who's next?"

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