Chapter 7

Zane hated that his prison cell was so delightful.

He hadn't noticed before, but the floors had lush burgundy carpet laid over it that was pleasant to the touch. In some places, it was punctured with horse hoof marks, evidence of Marcus's passing by. The carpet extended into all rooms but the restroom, which was all cream tiled, smooth, and chilly on the bare feet.

Right now, Zane sat in the room they had designated for him, the closest one to the door. His toes were curling into the carpet as he sat on the edge of the bed. Unlike the first holding cell he was in, this one had pleasant smelling bed sheets to match the carpet. They were made of a satin material which Zane had slipped off of many times during the night before. A fluffed pillow laid near the headboard as well as a nightstand with a lamp. The walls still bore resemblance to the first cell because they were chromic steel. That, however, was the only resemblance.

He stretched his arms over his head, hands linked. A punctuated yawn pierced the eerie silence and he stood up.

Having found the night before that they had stocked a wardrobe with clothes his size, he had gladly taken a shower and changed out of his ten day-old clothes. He could almost feel his body sloughing as he was taking the shower, so he had cut it short, not hoping to relive that feeling.

He was dressed now in simply a pair of shorts. He stepped over to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. Upon opening it the night before, he had not seen any traditional gray suits, but he was hoping somehow there would be some this morning. He had no such luck. He knew he had no logical reason to keep wearing the gray suit and blue tie, but it had been almost second nature since he turned thirteen. It was just another impact of his life in New Vancouver that he couldn't manage to shake off.

There were a variety of clothing options to choose from. He saw outfits similar to Marcus's, and he also saw khakis and chinos and some cargo shorts. Sleeveless shirts were an option Zane was open to considering, but the option of Hawaiian shirts was also appealing. However, he felt it too early to change into clothes. Besides, he now had no visible commitment except for Wawrzynski's honing, whatever that meant. He closed the wardrobe decisively, considered putting at least a shirt on, but then decided he was too lazy to open it back up.

He walked into the common area. He moved stiffly and his hips hurt from sliding off the bed sheet and hitting the floor. It may be carpet, but there was steel underneath it.

Daisy was already up. She was rubbing her eyes and lounged across one of the sofas in the center of the room. Without looking up, she said, "Morning," He glanced behind him, making sure she was talking to him and not someone else.

Zane grunted in response and shuffled over to the kitchen. Or what passed as a kitchen.

One more magnificent discovery he had made; no more crappy prison food. Wawrzynski was clearly hoping to coerce them to play along with his wicked plans, because he played to every teenager's cuisine wants. There were potato chips and soda in a corner cupboard, and noodle cups lined on the counter. Bagels were stored in the fridge next to an insane amount of cream cheese icing. There was hardly any healthy food, but Zane was okay with that. Besides, if he ate beef, he would probably just picture Marcus as a cow and then throw the beef away. The thought entertained him and he chuckled.

He slathered a bagel with about an inch of cream cheese, grinned to himself, and strode over to where Daisy was lounging. "You know what this place needs?" she asked, and only then did Zane realize there was a family-size box of Froot Loops next to her and her arms were elbow-deep in it. "A home theater." He crossed his arms, preparing to point out that she was one person consuming a family-size portion of Froot Loops.

She rooted around in the cereal box and pulled out a Froot Loop that was half-yellow, half-green. "Score!" she claimed, throwing it up and catching it in her mouth. She chewed loudly and seemed extremely pleased with herself.

"Having fun?" Zane asked sarcastically. He plopped down in a nearby chair and began to eat his bagel of diabetes.

"Sure am," she responded, shoving a handful in her mouth.

"How much have you eaten?" Zane asked.

She looked thoughtful and leaned to the side to peer into the box. She frowned. "About half of the box," she announced, smiling.

"Don't you think you should stop?"

She responded by shoving another handful in her mouth and puffing out her cheeks. Zane sighed loudly to show his exasperation. She rolled her eyes, but it was quite meaningless when she looked like a chipmunk.

Zane raised his hand to wipe off a stray dollop of cream cheese that had fallen to his chin. He frowned, looking over to Daisy. Seeing no visible reaction, he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked off the cream cheese. All Daisy did was raise an eyebrow slightly higher than the other. Zane shrugged nonchalantly.

Daisy, with great effort, swallowed her mouthful of Froot Loops. "Don't you think you should put on more clothes?" she asked, her gaze raking over his bare chest and legs. Zane immediately felt slightly foolish.

"I don't think I'm quite ready to give up the gray suits," he said, and Daisy's eyebrow began to rise again. "Don't look at me like that. I know it sounds foolish, but it's practically the only way I know how to dress. I have literally worn no other clothes since I was thirteen." He put the last of the bagel in his mouth and tried to mirror Daisy's carefree and laid-back demeanor. He guessed he wasn't managing it very well because that pesky eyebrow raised again.

"Sweetie, you don't have to follow their rules anymore," she observed. Zane shook his head slightly.

When he gazed back at her, a goofy smile was spreading across her face. He didn't like the look of it. "Why do you look like literally every single villain before they turn insane and kill somebody?" he demanded.

"Because," she stated, standing up. She dusted the Froot Loops dust on her pants, which looked as if she'd done it many times before. She did not seem to be a fan of washing clothes. "We are going to find you an outfit that will finally make Joseph notice you." She stepped toward him, flicking her finger to coerce him from the chair.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned. She sighed heavily and lunged toward him, her fingers wrapping around his upper arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she heaved him from the chair and began to drag him toward his room. He eventually resigned to his fate and stopped struggling. There was no stopping Daisy Fedorov.

"Oh, please," she said, answering his hurried question. "Even Marcus could figure it out, and he's dumb as a wombat." She continued to pull him along behind her. He mumbled a response not legible by her, and she took it as a hint to continue. "You stare at him like you're a bee and he's a particularly aromatic begonia." She seemed very pleased with this statement and rewarded herself with a small chortle.

Zane laughed derisively. "He's not a begonia," he huffed. And then his cheeks turned bright red and he was glad Daisy could not see them. "He's practically a rose." He didn't want to point out that he had no idea how he stared at Joseph. Maybe he was dumb as a wombat, whatever that was.

Daisy scoffed. "Have it your way," she said happily. "Either way, he must be pretty dense if he hasn't already noticed. But today, he notices you."

"You really think that's gonna happen?" Zane asked sarcastically. "What if he doesn't like guys?" It sounded like a stupid question in his head, but Daisy seemed pleased with the inquiry. Her grip even loosened a little as she hauled him across the floor, his dead weight slowing her progress.

"He will when he sees you," she said jokingly. Daisy seemed to have no somber side, no opposite mood to her cheerful upbeat one. She turned around and saw the doubtful look in his eyes. "Alright, maybe he doesn't, but there's no harm in you trying."

"I could be horribly rejected and spend the rest of my life as a hermit because I couldn't land the hottest guy I'd ever met." Zane was unsure of that statement as well, but Daisy ate it up like a family-size box of Froot Loops. Zane began to feel maybe a little of what it was like to be a normal teenager by her standards.

Daisy laughed derogatively. "I could see you as a hermit," she said, trying to keep in the giggles that threatened to escape. "You'd be all like, 'get off my lawn' and I'll be the one leaving the burning bags of shit on your doorstep." Her arm vibrated as she collapsed into a laughing fit. She dragged Zane into his room and dropped him in front of his wardrobe. She perched on his bed, still gasping from laughing. Zane harrumphed and turned to regard the closet for the second time this morning. He threw open the doors and Daisy stopped giggling.

"So many options," she exclaimed. She clapped her hands together. "We're gonna have so much fun!" she began snagging articles of clothing from the wardrobe and holding them up beside him. Her face made funny expressions as she contemplated how they would look on him.

"Are you done?" he asked, as she had already gone through at least half of his clothes.

"Not even close," came the response. He rolled his eyes.

She began ordering him to try on outfits because apparently picturing it was not enough.

The first outfit she suggested was far from noticeable. She had picked out drab gray and black clothes and Zane felt like he could sink into the darkness and completely disappear. "No way," they both said at the same time. For once, they shared an opinion. Zane didn't think it was possible when Daisy was always so sunshiny.

Zane, despite how eagerly excited Daisy was, felt elated that they had agreed that an outfit was questionable. A swell of pride engulfed his chest that maybe he was losing some of New Vancouver's prejudice simply by despising an outfit. He smiled. Daisy raised an eyebrow curiously.

The second outfit was far from enjoyable for Zane. Where Daisy had got his one, he would never know. He had never seen it in the wardrobe and finding out that it existed, he hated it immensely.

"A onesie, seriously?" he demanded of Daisy. It was a black minky onesie, with a white belly to resemble a panda. The hood didn't make it any more cheerful, which he figured was the desired effect. He scowled at Daisy and placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer. She stifled a laugh, but managed to maintain her composure.

"I think it's cute," she said, and he scoffed. That was the best answer she had? "Besides," she said, a smirk spreading across her face. "Joseph has a better view of your package in that outfit."

"Bitch," Zane said under his breath, a word he had heard Mallory mutter with some force the night before. But he did take a moment longer to consider the onesie due to that last statement. Conclusionally, though, he omitted it.

The next outfit employed one of the Hawaiian shirts he had seen earlier. She had put him in shorts that were particularly too deserving of the name. The horribly cheerful shirt was emblazoned with palm trees and coconuts and Zane found it quite endearing, despite his sour mood. Daisy was nodding, seemingly happy with her outfit of choice.

Though she liked the Hawaiian shirt outfit, she was not finished there.

She dressed him next in cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt. Zane would never say it, but he was beginning to find this process enjoyable. He admired himself in the small mirror situated in the corner of the room. His blond hair fell over his forehead and he swept it back, giving himself a sophisticated look. He quite enjoyed the look of the cargo pants and he had a feeling the many pockets would be quite useful in the future.

"Here," Daisy said, handing him a tan-colored shirt with a pronounced v-neck. "This will complement your freakishly blond hair." He fixed her with a scowl, but took the shirt nonetheless. He had to admit, she had reasonably good fashion sense. The shirt did go with his hair very well and the cargo pants were a forest green, making him feel like a park ranger.

There was a crash from the kitchen. Daisy gasped. "It might be him! Put that shirt on and go, go, go!" she spat, practically shoving him out of the door.

It was him. Zane drew in a breath and creased a rumple from his shirt. Feeling ridiculous, he glanced back at Daisy, who was slowly creeping back toward her Froot Loops. She gave him an enunciated thumbs-up and lunged for the cereal.

Rolling his eyes, Zane walked toward the kitchen where Joseph was now rooting through a cupboard. "If you're looking for Froot Loops," he said cheerfully. "They're critically endangered because of Toucan Sam over there." He pointed a thumb toward Daisy, who was trying to appear like she wasn't watching.

Joseph chuckled. "Thanks for the news flash." Zane inhaled sharply. The other boy did not seem affected by the absence of the gray suits because he had donned light blue pajama pants and a dark shirt. The gray New Vancouver outfit was gone, replaced with clothes Zane thought would be impounded outside of these walls.

In Joseph's face, he saw everything he had come to expect from the other boy. He saw the flicker of wit , the reflection of the fluorescent lights in his blue eyes. Zane saw the initial nervousness, the hands twitching at his sides. The soft corners of his mouth as they tilted upward when they saw Zane. The subtle adoration in his eyes.

Joseph looked Zane up and down, his smile growing wider. He took in the cargo pants and the v-neck shirt, and Zane's carefully swept back hair. His blue eyes followed Zane's figure up and down. After a long moment, he resumed his clattering around, once again not finding what he was looking for.

"Psst," Daisy said a little too loudly from the couch. She gestured him over, her arms waving manically. There was a purple Froot Loop stuck on her chin but she didn't seem to notice. "It worked, it worked!" she squealed.

"Calm down," Zane said, looking over his shoulder at Joseph. The boy was facing away from him, and Zane watched as he triumphantly held up a box of Pop-tarts.

"Oh, you are so whipped,"