America's Story

America was already in the Mess Hall as soon as the first call for dinner was made. She really was not one to be late to anything if it was in her control. Yes, control. That was what America liked and asserted control over all situations that the young woman could ever possibly find herself in.

Going through the line, obtaining her meal tray in a most robotic fashion, America then made a path through the throng of children around her. Just a child herself, and still she called all those around her children. It was just how she viewed them, not necessarily a judge on their age. In passing, America's eyes settled on Cale but for a moment before she walked passed him and to a table all by herself. She didn't care if she were alone, nor did she care if someone sat down with her.

By this time all the kids had made friends and acquaintances, and what did America have? Herself and two roommates whom she hardly knew.

America had been stopped dead in her tracks and turned emotionless eyes on them, or at least they had seemed like emotionless eyes to her, yet they were filled with what could be called almost tears. "I'm... fine..." The words came out slow and composed, though still more shaken than what America wanted to reveal to them. "I did not mean to disturb your meal. I will be in better control of my actions next time".

Subconsciously a hand went to the secretive item, hidden in her jumpsuit. Her fingers wanted to clutch the small bangle, to hold it; America just wanted to see it, something. It would have helped her greatly, yet still she refused to show any sign of weakness. What good was a runner if they were weak? These children around her depended on her for strength and for a logical mind at all times. So far, America was failing this; failing them. It was not what she wanted at all.

Taking a long breath, the young woman calmed herself and... smiled? Or at least what she could manage as a smile. There hadn't been much of a chance for America to make that expression since she was a small child, so it was tight, restrained, and unpracticed. "I'll be fine..." Though if that was for their reassurement or hers, America did not know.

"I know who you are Valia... I was the Head Runner in our class. I am almost surprised that you don't remember me..." But then again, not many people wanted to remember an intimidating and silent girl who acted more as if she were forty and not just eighteen. "Johnson, America", the young woman would add as if to jog Valia's memory.

"So...I take it you didn't like the food much?"

America turned her attention to Cale, then looked over her shoulder at the others' eating. There was some hunger but America really did not wish to join them. "I ... " America couldn't answer the question really. She hadn't even touched the food before slinging it across the room. Though she would try to answer it as best as she could, "I do not know yet, Cale."

Eyes shifted between the two "children", back and forth while trying to sort them out. A runner, who was very different from herself and then her roommate, a scientist who she knew practically nothing about. Why was she always the one that was outcast and strange? Was her personality truly undesirable? Were those whispers of her being someone rather rude and abrupt true? "I am going to go to the room now", America decided. Yes, being alone, where she belonged was the best course of action right now. There she would be able to collect her thoughts and calm herself. Perhaps even some meditation would do America well after allowing her emotions to take control instead of using her head and keeping them bottled like a good Runner was supposed to do. They always remained composed and in control, calm, level-headed. It had been drilled into her skull since the first day of training... and so far, she was failing; them and herself.