Crimson Red, Cerulean Blue

(Red)

-Time we were in the caves: One hour, fifteen minutes. (According to Orange.)

-Number of verses of “Ninety-Nine Soda Cans Thrown At the Wall” the old lady felt the (extremely annoying) urge to sing: Ninety-six. (I was kinda beginning to regret my decision. Actually, maybe I wasn’t. It gave me a really good chance to gloat at Green.)

-Number of times I gave Green these smug, satisfied looks, just to see what she would do: Twenty-two.

-Number of times Green turned into the crazy psycho terror she truly is and punched me: Four.

-Number of times I elbowed back: Four.

-Number of times Blue had to pry us apart to keep us from killing each other: Three.

-Number of times Orange had to give us all these really, really scary murderous glances that immediately stopped any and all fights either Green or I was planning to start: One.

-Time it took for the seemingly harmless old lady to go full-on psycho assassin and for us to be pretty much screwed: One hour, two minutes.

“You’re so immature,” Green hissed at me when Orange’s back was turned. “Such. A. Two. Year. Old.”

“You’re a psycho terror.”

“Excuse me, I’m not the one who’s actually blown up anything.”

“Oh, please. What about that one house in Rogue City?”

“That was you!”

“Uh, no, that was you!”

“You have the memory span of a goldfish.”

“And you have the memory span of a…a…”

“A what?” Green challenged with the confidence of one who knows she is probably going to win no matter what. (Much to my irritation.)

“A…person. With a really bad memory,” I finished lamely.

Somehow, this brilliant insult did not cause Green to break down in tears.

Blue, probably sick of our fights by now, asked the lady, “Um, excuse me, ma’am, but do you know how much longer it’ll take?”

“It’ll take as long as it has to, dear,” the old lady called back cheerfully.

“Well, that’s helpful,” she muttered.

“A good, long while at least,” Orange mouthed to us, which I didn’t even consider doubting. He might not like admitting it, but he was the expert here. We were on his home turf now.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Blue whispered. “What exactly is your power, Orange? Is it like, telepathy?”

Orange paused, as if considering telling Blue everything, but then shook his head. “It’s not telepathy.”

Then he shut up and got that look in his eyes that told me he wasn’t breathing another word about it. Blue must not have gotten the message, thought, because she asked, “So what exactly is it?”

I glanced at Orange, whose look said, Tell her and die. I turned to Blue. “Don’t question it. He’ll tell you when he’s good and ready.”

She bit her lip again. Blue always bit her lip whenever something was bothering her, I’d noticed.

“But I don’t know a single thing about any of your pasts. Doesn’t that kind of make me… I dunno, a fourth wheel, I guess?”

I gave her a sad smile. “Hey, you’re the fourth wheel, but you’re the one who makes this car run.”

I could tell she still wasn’t satisfied, though, and everything in me was telling me to get that sad look off my best friend’s face, so I slung an arm around her shoulders, biting back a painful memory of another place and another time when someone else had done the same to me. “Besides,” I continued, flashing her a grin, “I’m sure you’ll find out sooner or later.”

I had to look away, hiding the pain, as the next, unspoken words flashed through my mind. The ones Orange, Green, and I were all thinking.

But I don’t think I could take the hate in your eyes when you do.

The old lady chose this brilliant moment to turn around and announce, “We’re here!”

Everything was forgotten as we all stared at her.

“But…there’s nothing here,” Blue pointed out, which pretty much summed up all our feelings in one short sentence.

“And that,” the old lady replied with an evil, evil smile that did not belong on a lady of her age and because of that struck instant fear into our hearts, “is exactly the point.”

For the first time, I took a look at our surroundings. We were in a wide, rocky cavern, filled with white, chalky rock. Stalagmites and stalactites dotted the edge, but the middle was a single wide, clear space. Everything around us was rock and crystal. No dirt. No water.

I suddenly realized, with a sick feeling, exactly where this old lady had led us.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” she announced, drawing a long, gleaming sword from somewhere in her clothes. A few drops of poison dripped from the tip, and I suddenly recalled, too late, the green drips we’d seen outside the tunnel. We all backed up a few steps, getting ready for battle.

“My name is Caelin. I believe you were looking for me?”