12. Carly
Carly
Two days earlier
‘O i!’ shouts Kyle. ‘We’ve got a situation. Outside. Now!’
At Kyle’s panicked demand, Eddie runs out of the warehouse without taking the trolley or locking our cells.
We all stand there, frozen on the spot. I’m sure every child is having the same confusing thoughts as I am—find whatever scraps you can from the trolley but also don’t move because they could come back in at any moment.
Kyle had said there was a situation out there. What kind of situation would have them so panicked that they’d make such a big mistake as not locking us up?
I glance over at Taj who had already made his way back to his cell before Eddie left.
He nods his head and that’s all the motivation I need.
On a shelf of the trolley is a bag of apples.
They’ll notice a whole bag missing, I have to be smart.
By this point, some of the other kids are approaching the trolley and I fear an every man for himself situation is close.
But instead, one of the younger boys turns to face the group.
‘Let’s take one apple to share with one other person,’ he says, his voice shaky. ‘Then there won’t be as many missing.’
I smile, nodding at his idea. He’s thinking along the same lines as me. I pass Taj an apple and he takes a bite, promising to save me the other half.
I place the bag of remaining apples back on the shelf and adjust it so it still looks mostly full.
There’s still no sign of the two men who went outside.
I keep searching the trolley. The bottom shelf has two buckets—one with our food scraps and one with our bowls.
Next to it is an old cleaned out ice cream container.
I let out a long sigh at the thought of ice cream.
Will I ever taste something like that again?
Inside the container, there are a few spoons, one fork and a pair of scissors.
They’re stupid for leaving us in here with the trolley and no supervision. I put the scissors in my pocket as the door to the warehouse swings open. I pray all the others have hidden their apples back in their cells and aren’t munching away this second.
Eddie runs back in, his eyes wide when he sees I’m out of my cell. But technically, I’m exactly where he left me.
‘Get back in your cell,’ he says. He doesn’t sound angry at all. But his face is flushed and his brows knit together. He’s worried about something. Thankfully, that something isn’t me.
He looks at all the cells before dragging the trolley outside.
There’s a tap on my cell bars and Taj rolls the apple in to me. I take a big bite, indulging in the crispness of it and the juice filling my mouth. I sit back on my mattress and think. I wonder what’s going on outside this warehouse.