Chapter 19: The Life of an Alien

                                    

                                          
CATO'S POV: 
                          
My room has a beach theme. Not so much my style, but it's all right. The floor is made of bamboo planks, as well as the desk. The bedframe is wicker with airy palm tree printed bedding that looks to supply the needed amount of warmth to someone living in the tropics. I'm looking at some cool nights here. 
                          
I sit down carefully in one of the basket chairs. I'm cautious; I don't want it splintering it under me in the way it looks like it will. Luckily, it proves to be stronger than its appearance entitles. 
                          
I look around at the room. The walls are a pale blue and covered with pastel beach wall art. Those will be the first to come down. Maybe Marguerite will let me alter the room design in here. 
                          
I wonder what Clove's room is like. Hopefully something that suits her. Maybe she doesn't even know it herself, but during the few hours I've had to observe her, I've picked up a lot of her style. Fierce, determined, unrelenting. In the perfect way, too. She's not as stunning as that girl Glimmer, but she's got her own rule of things. And I can't help but feel like it's a little better than anything Glimmer could have achieved.
                          
Maybe she won't even talk to me. But I want to talk to her, learn what she's like, interact with her. I feel like we have a lot in common, especially now that we've both landed ourselves in these confusing and questionable circumstances.
                          
But what about Marguerite? There's something a little... off about her. Which is saying a lot, since I haven't had much of a chance to experience the people here. But Marguerite seems a little strange. Did she just happen to have these rooms set up for us? Is she planning something?
                          
I brush off. That's ridiculous! How could she have known? How could anyone have known? 
                          
Yet someone must have known, or how else would we have ended up here? Random chance? No way.
                          
Hours pass. I want to get out of this apartment, but I don't know anything about what lies outside. Go ahead, get out there, is the voice urging me forward. I pull myself out of the wicker chair and cross the bamboo floor, which is strewn with fake sand. Give me a break.
                          
I open my door. Directly across the white-carpeted hall is Clove's room. Her door is silent and closed. I glance over to its neighbor door. Where Marguerite disappeared. Maybe I can just leave. There's nothing tying me to this place.
                          
I cross the perfectly white carpet over to the front door. My fingers close around the cool brass handle and I give it a sharp turn. 
                          
Ziiiiip--zooooooot--zaappppp! An electric current races through some mechanism in the door and shoots out of the handle, sending a shock through my whole body. The ceiling curves above me as I land flat on my back. Everything's spinning. I'm totally confused. A shower of sparks rains in front of my face.
                          
Somewhere through the buzzing in my ear, I'm aware of the sound of a door banging, followed by a shriek. I feel myself falling into a realm of darkness as I black out.
                          
CLOVE'S POV:
                          
I'm slouched over my desk, staring intently at the only non-pink object in the room: the laptop. My fingers tap out a ceaseless rhythm. The kitten's left my lap by now and crawled up on top of the pink loft bed. I don't care. There's no way I'm sleeping on that thing anyway.
                          
Without warning, I hear a zap of electricity from the next room. I don't know where my urgency comes from, but I leap to my feet and sprint toward the door, banging it behind me. I charge into the living room.
                          
Cato is lying on the floor, looking completely stunned. I give a little shriek and rush to his side. "Cato! Cato! Are you all right?"
                          
He doesn't answer; he looks petrified. Helplessly, I drag him over to the sofa and scream "MARGUERITE!"