Transparent Color's
Escape from Pink

“Toby!” scolds Aunt Bristol, “Now do I need to get the book out?”

Toby sinks in his seat at the table and says, “No ma’am. I already know, no yelling in the home.” Toby pushes his twig shaped body back up in the seat, with his light brown hair just reaching the top of the chair. His lightly freckled bronze face and big brown eyes look at me as I enter the room.

“Well if you hadn’t have yelled for me, then I wouldn’t have known breakfast was ready,” I sit down at the table, and give him a slight smile and a wink.

“If you had not yelled for me.”, corrected my Uncle Ping with a smirk as he moves the chair to sit down, “Sunshine.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I normally wouldn’t care to be corrected with grammar; I actually strive to learn proper English, but he is so smug about it, and he knows when he calls me “Sunshine” it angers me to the core. That’s exactly why he says it, I suppose. He plops down on the chair and rubs his balding head. He must have not moved the chair back far enough, because his round stomach is being pinched by the table.

“Toby, my boy,” says Uncle Ping with a blunt tone, “If you want to be a decent human being, manner yourself by those who are decent.”

Knowing he was referring to me as the indecent one, I just sit there staring at him waiting to get some kind of eye contact. But he doesn’t look my way, he never does. Ever since my parents died and he had to take me in, he has held a grudge towards me, and I have no clue why.

Uncle Ping turned his head away from Toby and looks at my Aunt Bristol, whose attitude is not any better, a bit peppier, but non the less just as cold.

“Bris, how’s that breakfast coming?” or in other words, “is it done, and where’s my plate.”

Aunt Bristol turns her petite, pear shaped body towards Uncle Ping. Her hair is in a neatly made bun, with the jeweled pin visible on the side. When she talks it sounds like a squeak of a mouse.

“Yes my dear, yours is coming first,” she says with a big smile. I often wonder if her smiles are real or just holding back screams. “I just need to apply the color and it will be done.” Squeeak!

She turns back towards the pot on the stove, reaches to the shelf above it and takes a tiny bottle down. She drips four liquid drops into the pot, then puts the bottle away. She gets a large wooden spoon and mixes the pot. “It’s done!”

With pretty pink plates already set on the table my aunt goes around pouring the pink grits on to the plates. First she goes to my Uncle Ping, then Toby, herself and me last. She turns back to the stove, opens the oven door, takes out the pink swirl bread and places it onto the middle of the table. She cuts the bread and places the slices on each plate in the same order she gave the grits. When she places the bread on Toby’s plate, she puts it right into the grits. I watch Toby’s eyes go wide. I reach over and move the bread away from the grits with my spoon. His anxious face begins to relax. Aunt Bristol knows Toby has a strange condition were he does not like things to mix or touch. But she deliberately does things to see his face freeze up. I guess she finds it humorous or something. She often says how silly he reacts. I just think it’s cruel.

Before inhaling this delightfully pink food, I like food, I see my Aunt looking at me and my stomach starts to turn. I know she will bring it up, God I hope she doesn’t bring it up! Her mouth begins to open; I feel anticipation creeping up waiting for the words to come out.

“You know you turn eighteen in four days. Have you began to pack?”, her face turns sour, “And have you washed?”

“Yes, Kind of, and No.” quick, to the point, now let’s move on.

“Hmm” she counters, “Good. You should do more. That is completely unhuman.”

Grunt! I turn toward my Uncle. “Eighteen’s a privilege”, he continues with food in his mouth. His eyes not leaving his dish, “It’s a time to grow up, start the job that is assigned to you, and finding your mate. It’s your purpose in Life. So you need to get your things packed and ready. As for the washing, if you want to be alone the rest of your life, by all means be dirty.” He begins to laugh.

My eyes automatically roll, “I’m not dirty, I just forgot to wash yesterday, it’s just one flippin’ day and you would think I haven’t washed in a month!”

“Careful how you speak. Do I need to get the book out for you?”

“No Aunt Bristol you do not.”

“Why so touchy today? You should be on cloud nine with only four days.”

Why does she say that with such glee? Now nausea is kicking in. “I’m not touchy, I’m just too delighted, on cloud nine as you called it, to make sense of what I am saying.” I give an overly done smile and start eating. I can feel her stare, but it withdrawals from me and on to her food and she too begins eating. Toby stays silent, which he should, no need for him to get in trouble. He’s my only light on a cloudy day. I would hate to see him sent to his room; I need him at this table.

The whole table goes mute. Even with my stomach arguing with every bite I eat as quick as I can. I can’t stand sitting in silence for too long. It makes me feel uncomfortable. Once I have finished, I place my spoon down on to my pretty pink plate and say the ridiculous jingle we have to say every time we leave the table:

“Thank you, Thank you for the grits and the bread. Thank you, Thank you gracious one, who gives us pink to show we are one.”

I get up and place the dish and spoon in the sink. I start heading for the door, when I hear my Aunt say to me, “Make sure to learn something in school today. Maybe about washing!” Without a response I walk out the door.

Normally people take the short paths to school, but I would rather walk the long way around, side by side with the fence. The fence, for some reason comforts me. Or maybe it’s what’s outside the fence that gives me comfort. Maybe it’s the swaying of the golden wheat field, the shaking of the trees or the smooth looking grass that covers the hill pass the field. It looks so inviting. Why we are not allowed outside this fence is beyond me. There in the fields I see the Collector’s. Lucky basters! They are the only ones who are allowed to go out past this cage to collect wheat and plant more again. That’s their sole job. I could do that job. Maybe one day I will.

As I walk along the fence I gently trace it with my hand, absorbed in my thought. Imagining what it is like passed the hill. I sometimes imagine an ocean, with clear blue water, dolphins jumping up in the air doing flips. Other times I imagine a beautiful city without a fence around it, with motor vehicles and flying transports to take you where you need to go. Some days when I am low, I imagine nothing, literally nothing is there. The earth ends to nothingness. All that is to look forward to is this city, eighteen, a job and a mate. I shake my head, those are not the thoughts I want in there. I think about the ocean again.

BING!

I snap back to reality and look at the big clock in the middle of the town. I still have ten more minutes. I should walk and think. As I approach the center of the town, I stop. Outside this part of the fence, right before the edge of a pit stands a statue. This is no ordinary statue made of stone, but the appearance of a real human man. Rumors have been spreading for twenty years now, that it was actually a real man who the Controller froze. The man was said to have come from beyond the hill.

My fingers link between the holes of the fence and my heart starts pounding. Why this happens I do not know. Every time I stop in front of the statue I feel different. Like it’s calling for me, wanting me to go over and touch it. I laugh at myself. Why would a statue be calling me? Furthermore, HOW would a statue be calling me? Would my heart stop pounding like I have some kind of nervous crush or something? That’s even more absurd. I turn my head to look at the clock again, five more minutes. Yikes! I need to get going. But my eyes go back to the beautiful man … I mean statue. That thing obviously is there for a reason the Controller only knows. He probably set it up there like a scarecrow to scare all us birdies away, so we will not dare try to leave his precious city.

Three minutes. Ugh! I run.

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