What the heck just happened. I wonder what’s next, huddled in a shack I’ve concocted of shrapnel.
I look at the letters I’ve drawn on my hand: Mel. I’m ADD (attention defecit disorder) and art is pretty much everything. I don’t get distracted doing art. Mel’s my name. Well, Mellanin, actually, but what kind of parent names their kid Mellanin. I couldn’t answer that; My parents died when I was three. I never was able to ask.
A see three pairs of feet run past me. Then another pair. Then a burning piece of who-knows-what lands about two feet from my face. I scramble from my hiding place. All of the prisoners are lined up near the hospital. I run towards them. Just as I begin to run, something flies towards me. Sparks fly around me. This is a battlefield, and I’m in the middle of it. I’m about 10 yards away from the line of people. Then an aircraft, flying high above, starts to descend. Faster and faster. I push my feet into the ground, and push even harder off it. Running as fast as I can, excelling myself towards safety. Then the ship lands, flaming, sparks flying, a mere ten feet away. I don’t look back. I run like it’s life and death. And it is. I blink.
When I open my eyes, I’m in a quiet, medicine-smelling room. I inhale and cough. My eyes water and a doctor turns around.
“Finally up! Good, I can take a look at you,” he gives me a smile worthy of Gotham City, and advances.
“No, thanks,” I scramble away. I am not ready to be probed and picked.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Please,” I think. I start thinking of crazy things. One of the parts of ADD.
“Come on, Melanie,” he thinks my name is a typo. That I’m Melanie. I wish.
“It’s Mellanin. Like melatonin, the sleeping stuff your body makes? You’re supposed to be a doctor, right?”
“Oh, sorry, um, yeah,” the doctor scratches the back of his head, embarrassed.
“Where can I get food?” I know I’m being really rude, but seriously. I haven’t eaten for a whole day. That’s a lot for me.
“Um, down the hall, to the left,” the doctor says.
I stand up and feel nothing. No pain. Take that, burning ship that almost killed me. I walk down the hall and into a nearly empty cafeteria. At one table sits a blonde boy, a black haired girl, and another brown haired boy, and a girl with long blonde hair. The girl with the blonde hair waves me over.
“I’m Riley. Wanna get out of here?” She says, like she’s asking where the bathroom is.