The Girl Who Harnessed Color
Ch. 3
tHE aRENA
Dancing colors swirled around me, waiting for me to take hold. My arm reached out as if to grab one and as soon as my fingers glided along their wispy edge they began to dissipate into nothing.
Groggily my eyes began to creak open, the too bright light of early morning beamed through the windows parallel to my bed. I tried to ignore the slight headache behind my eyes as I realized today was the day. I was officially going to skip school and swindle my way into the marvelous competitions. With some reluctance I moved my body out of the warm pink quilt my grandmother had made me and approached my wardrobe. Thoughts of what to wear crowded my mind, should it be like the outfits you saw in wrestling? Should it be stylish with little consideration for comfort? Carley couldn’t quite remember a time she had dressed just for comfort but considering she didn’t know the terrain, it was probably smart to leave the stilettos and kitten heels at home. Though…. hmm… no smarter to leave them at home.
Snatching an elbow cut-off sweater made with silky hot pink fur out of the closet, I threw that in the maybe’s pile. Underneath I’d wear a hand-cut lime green V-neck. OOh… Tight black skinny jeggings would work for any occasion whether it was sitting on someone or just needing to knee them in the groin, this was coming together. She knew she’d be wearing her knee-high flat-heeled velvet highlighter yellow boots and …. yes the masquerade mask from last Halloween. She was ready for anything.
Stuffing the superhero costume into her backpack she took the stairs three steps at a time and made her way to the kitchen. Grandma, back turned towards her, was humming to show tunes as she made butter pancakes. Carley couldn’t resist butter pancakes even though technically she had vowed to be on a diet less than a week ago. She’d just put off the diet until after the competitions, assuming she survived. Hastily grabbing a plate and spreading large quantities of butter and syrup over the top of her pancakes, she shoveled them happily until she noticed a hawk-eyed look watching her.
Grams had halted the cooking process and was steadily observing her over the rim of her favorite too-large World’s Best Grandma coffee mug. Carley ceased shoveling pancakes and felt a sudden prick of unease, does she know? She couldn’t know, that was not her superpower. Carley resumed shoveling and pretended like she didn’t notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as a lopsided topknot and fuzzy bathrobe approached Plunk, Grams swooped into the chair next to me and proceeded to set her mug down as if preparing for battle, withering under her stare I gave in and shouted: “What?!”
Grams seemed to consider her words carefully before saying “Carley… I know today is the Power Performances… should we talk about it?” Deflating, I shrugged “No, I’m good.” This was the wrong response as Grams seemed suddenly suspicious. Swallowing a little too conspicuously, I reassured: “I know it’s the Power Performances but I’m just going to shrug it off and maybe buy myself a latte after school as a ‘You made it through your annual bench warming experience’ gift.”
Grams seemed to accept this explanation and perked up. “Well, I’m making fried potatoes and Polish sausage tonight so you be sure to bring home an appetite OK?” A pang of guilt shot through me, I didn’t think I would be returning tonight. With a smile that I didn’t feel, I tried to sound excited. “Absolutely.” The remnants of my pancakes sat dejectedly on my plate, my appetite suddenly waning.
Well, I mean… if I didn’t eat them, she’d be suspicious right? Greedily I inhaled them and slipped my plate into the dishwasher.
Kissing Grams’ cheek I skipped out of the house and into the Bronco. In T-5 hours I’d be entering the Marvelous Competitions. Thrums of excitement moved through me. This was going to be my chance to prove that superheroes didn’t have to have powers. I was going to be somebody. I was going to bring my parents back.
Now she just had to figure out how to trick the judges into believing she had powers, great. With one idea up her sleeve, she made her way to homeroom. Carley couldn’t quite relax as she bustled through the nearly empty hallways of Mackasten High, she surreptitiously checked every corner for Tess, hoping to avoid prying conversation.
Making her way covertly to the abandoned art supplies room she found exactly what she was looking for. Paint and plastic gloves. This would work she told herself. This would absolutely work. An hour later sitting in her second hour, head in hands realized this was not going to work. Ok, plan 2.
She’d convince them she could read minds. No yeah, this would work. She could feel it. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence she felt more in control. Carley sat in the library during her free period, studiously researching each of the judges and making the best mental notes on each individual’s life and Wikifacts. Sitting up straight she inhaled slowly I can do this. Diligently she drew notes on the sides of her fingers. If they asked she’d say they were tattoos. That made total sense right?
As the bell sounded for lunch Carley struggled to focus on her breathing and not on the sinking feeling she had about lying to her friends. Carley hated lying. She wasn’t good at it, not that she was morally against it or anything. Throughout lunch, she dodged pointed looks and quizzical stares by acting glum and completely absorbed in her sandwich. Hopefully, they would all think she was down about the Power Performances and assume she needed space. It would work out well, they would assume she ditched to go to the local cafe or something.
As the bell rang out dismissing them from lunch and the jovial cheers let out for the power performances Carley stealthily made her way out the back doors and sprinted to the Bronco. Pulling up to the address on the flyer she felt her stomach do a flip, as she gazed at this massive blue warehouse structure with a worn, industrial look. It had rusting metal panels and dimly lit windows. Its blue paint was peeling, adding to the sense of decay and neglect. Taking a big gulp and shifting in her seat she could just make out that connected to this central warehouse it looked like there were six other warehouses, forming a complex maze-like structure. Suddenly she was a little worried she’d just entered the next Saw movie.
The area was empty of any other signs of civilization, she’d never seen this part of the city before. Parking the Bronco around the block, she speedily dressed in her superhero outfit in the back of the Bronco, performing clumsy acrobatics as she shimmied into her shirt and jeggings. After she felt the satisfaction of her disguise nestled comfortably across her notes, she shoved her school bag under the seat, locked the door, and prayed to the gods no one touched her baby as she anxiously began her descent toward the largest warehouse.
Slinking through the heavy warehouse door she came to an abrupt halt. Before her loomed a crowd of hundreds (at least 500) all waiting in a winding single-file line. That was as many people as was in her entire high school class. There was a sudden urge bubbling within her, she could make a break for it, and run back to the Bronco. She could go home to Grams and tell her how stupid this idea had been. She could back out and always wonder what would have happened. Squaring her shoulders she put on her bravest face and tried to fill herself with bravado. She could do this. Carley Tuar Ceatha never gave up.
