PROJECT GEEK ~ CHAPTER 7
Hello awesome people and happy Saturday everyone!
It’s been a while since I shared a Project Geek rough chapter with you and since a) I have a possible title now and b) I couldn’t think of anything else to post this wonderful day, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to update you guys a little bit on Ivy and Zac’s story.
So, sit back comfortably and enjoy this seventh chapter, and read this post to the very end, to find out the 99.9% possible title of my NA dystopian WIP, where Beauty and the Beast meets The Devil Wears Prada.
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Y’all ready? Ok… Let’s go!
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Chapter 7
IVY
It’s one of those days that I absolutely adore. Not because I have magically turned into a Golden-Ratio-following person, nor because I get to spend the entire day in the kitchen of Mummy’s with Stella and Alex. It’s simply because today is the day where I get to visit my dad again.
Once every ninety-one, sometimes ninety-two days. This is all I get, just because Dad was brave enough to embrace the idea that there’s beauty hidden behind the differences, the unique characteristics of each and every individual. And that’s how the government decided to repay him; with a life sentence in prison and visitors once every three months.
Well, actually there’s just one visitor; me. To Mum and Marissa, Dad is already dead. They chose to craft a story. They chose to believe that story and they spent a lot of money to make sure that the entire world would believe it, too. The story is quite simple. Ethan Belcher died in a car crash four years ago.
Nobody questioned it because everybody knew what my father stood for. Equality between the non-Phi and the Golden-Ratio-following people. A world where everyone would be treated according to their mind, personality and inner beauty. A world where everyone would have the same opportunities. A world that is the exact opposite of what the government has spent years to create and nurture. Nobody questioned my family’s story, because it’s always easier to believe the lies society tends to feed you than to face the cruel truth. And as no trial ever happened, everyone believed that somebody sabotaged Dad’s car and saved the entire world from the person who believed that non-Phis are as smart, maybe smarter than those who follow the Golden Ratio. If only there were more men like Dad who could save the majority of people from their microcosm.
“Are you sure you wanna do this, Ivy?” Alex asks the moment we park outside the mesh fencing of the prison.
“Of course I want to do this,” I say, still I cannot help but wonder how I probably look like for Alex to ask me such a thing.
“What am I supposed to say if your mother or Marissa ask where you are?” he asks, his knuckles turning white as he clutches the wheel.
“Nothing,” I sigh, averting my eyes from Alex’s, looking straight towards the intimidating, grey building, that’s been Dad’s home for the past four years. Well, one thousand four hundred and fifty-two days, to be exact.
“Nothing?” Alex asks.
“Yes,” I murmur. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
Let them be in the dark for once. It’ll be good for them to take a little taste of their own medicine.
“All right,” Alex says. “I’ll see you later at work. Don’t be late.”
I nod in acknowledgement and open the door to get out of the car. The morning, summer breeze tangles up my hair and suddenly I’m dying to see my Dad again. Not only because it’s so hard to pretend every single day that one of your parents is dead, when you know that this isn’t true, but also because there’s some news I have to share with him. A little riot and a job offering.
***
“How’s your baking going?” Dad asks behind the bulletproof glass that separates us, the black receiver of the phone coming in complete contrast with his pale, stubbly face.
When was the last time Dad saw the morning sun? I wonder.
“It’s going pretty well,” I respond and glance at the police officer standing at the back side of the tiny room. His face shows nothing more than complete apathy and I’m glad Dad was smart enough to come up with this code name before being sentenced to a life in prison. Because to us baking equals non-Phi people’s leagues for the upcoming riots against the inequalities imposed by the government. “I’m working on something extra special for this coming month.”
“Good, good,” Dad says. “I’m so glad you haven’t let your talents be wasted. And I’m glad you haven’t let your kindness get the best of your wittiness.”
“Daddy, please…”
“Hey you!” the police officer barks. “Be careful or you’ll end up in isolation again. This time there won’t be any water either.”
“Bring it on,” Dad says flatly and winks at me.
“Dad, please, don’t antagonise him,” I breathe. “I’m worried about you. About how you’re being treated in here. You look weaker… Thiner. Don’t you eat at all?”
“I do,” Dad says. “If there’s one thing these beauties have done right is to bring some decent food around here. It’s not like yours of course, but it’s digestible.”
I smirk. Despite everything, my father hasn’t lost his sense of humour, this sarcastic wit I was lucky enough to inherit. Then again, very few people think I’m smart and funny, so I don’t know how fortunate I am anyway.
“Don’t worry about me, Ivy,” Dad murmurs. “I made my decisions long ago and I would make the same ones all over again if it meant that one day you’d have the chance to be treated just as Marissa is being treated every single day.”
“I know,” I breathe. “You’re the reason why work is going so well. Everything’s going according to plan.”
“Excellent!” Dad says. “Are you planning on interviewing any new bakers to expand the business?”
“Not now. There’s another job offering I have to think about first,” I say, trying hard to keep my face blank, regardless of the guard’s investigating gaze that has been locked upon me for the past few minutes.
“What job offering?” Dad asks.
“Zachariah Hudson of Bewitched Ink stopped by yesterday,” I say and that Golden-Ratio-following man’s face instantly pops up inside my head. “He said the government is planning on putting into motion a new internship program.”
“What kind of internship program?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I reply. “All I know is that he said they want both the Golden-Ratio-following and the non-Phi people to have the same opportunities and rights, just as they have the same obligations.”
“They must have found out about the upcoming events,” Dad whispers.
“You’re time’s up,” the guard barks and I flinch.
“Take the job offer. Apply for the internship,” is all Dad says before the guard grabs him and pulls him away from me once again.
Ninety-two more days will have to pass for Dad and I to meet again. But next time we meet, things will be different; for the better I hope. For next time, I’ll have more news to share with him. I will apply for the internship program. I will take the job at Bewitched Ink. I’ll do whatever it takes for the riots to succeed. And for my Dad to be a free man again. I may be the one moderating the non-Phi people’s moves, but Dad is the leader of the league. Because his actions four years ago inspired others to dream more, to learn more, to do more. They inspired others to become more.
It’s time our government learns there’s more in this world than grace and beauty. There’s also intellect and wit.
***
I arrive at Mummy’s an hour later. The patisserie is packed with people, inside and out. I can’t help but smile, as I head towards the back door of the shop. Despite the socioeconomic crisis, despite the fact that there are dozens of patisseries and coffee shops all around the city, despite the fact that there are two non-Phi people working here, despite all that, Mummy’s keeps thriving and bringing sufficient income in our household for us to survive.
I cannot think myself working anywhere but here. I don’t want to work anywhere but here. But it’s not about what I want right now. It’s about what needs to be done for us to have a better, more just world in the future. It’s about what needs to be done for people like Alex and me to have a chance in being treated just as Stella, Marissa, Mum and Zachariah Hudson are.
At the thought of Zachariah Hudson I remember what Dad told me earlier today and I realise that there’s no other option but this one. I have to put my pride aside and go find Zachariah Hudson, persuade him that I thought better of his proposal and that I do want to work with him. Even though the moment I open the back door and enter Mummy’s kitchen I realise once again that no other work place will ever override this one.
“What took you so long?” Alex asks instead of properly greeting me. Judging from his grave expression I have a feeling things didn’t go well while I was with Dad.
“Well, I couldn’t actually grab a taxi, now, could I?” I reply and head to the kitchen counter to leave my bag.
“You could at least have called,” Alex says. “Marissa has asked thrice already where were you this morning and your mum just called.”
“Easy now, pumpkin,” Stella intervenes. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.”
“Nobody said we don’t, but this time is different Stella and you know it,” Alex says the moment the kitchen’s door opens.
Marissa stands at its threshold, her face a mask of utter fury. If I didn’t know better I’d say my sister is one of those people that only bark and never bite. But I know she’s capable for everything. Especially when she thinks her prestige and place into society are threatened.
“Where the hell have you been all day?” she snarls, fixing her stormy blue eyes upon me, ignoring completely Stella and Alex.
“I had to run a few errands,” I say flatly. I only hope my thundering heartbeat doesn’t give me away.
“What kind of errands?” Marissa asks, approaching menacingly towards me.
“None that’s any of your concern,” I respond.
With my peripheral vision I get a glimpse of Stella goggling her eyes. We all know better than to antagonise Marissa when she’s like that; like a jungle cat ready to attack.
“Sorry to disappoint you, sis,” she hisses, “but it is my concern when Zachariah Hudson comes here two days in a row and asks to see you. It makes me wonder what that hot stuff like him wants to discuss with someone like you.”
She could’ve slapped me and it wouldn’t have hurt that much. Someone like you… The words echo inside my head, along with Dad’s words of wisdom from this morning.
You haven’t let your kindness get the best of your wittiness.
I most certainly haven’t. And after meeting with Dad, I’m glad Zachariah Hudson came to find me. He saved me from a lot of wasted time and trouble.
© Victoria Moschou. All Rights Reserved 2019.
That was the seventh chapter of Project Geek and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.
I know I’m not updating you a lot lately about my writing journey, but that’s partly because my days are so freaking busy that I don’t have as much time as I want to write for many hours every day. I hope I’ll have more spare time in July, but that’s something I’ll discuss with you in the upcoming post.
For the time being, I’d like to share with you the title I came up with a few weeks ago, and I’m 99.9% sure that this is going to be the final title of Project Geek. And that is…
*DRUM ROLL, PLEASE!*
Of Grace and Wit
I think that it’s perfect for this story; a story about a world, in which those who don’t follow the Golden Ratio are thought to be less intelligent than those who are beautiful on the outside. Or, as the government of this new world of mine likes to proclaim, it’s all about… Beauty before brains!
What do you guys think? Did you like this new chapter? Would you be interested in reading more of that story?
If you haven’t read the first chapter yet, you can follow that link and just go from there.
Thank you all for coming here once again. I look forward to reading all your comments, thoughts and feelings in the comment section down below.
It means the world to me that you keep coming back here and I want you to know that I most certainly don’t take your presence for granted.
Have a wonderful weekend everyone!
Till next time… Toodles!
