Machiavellian Blossom

When she awoke, Blossom could not remember for a moment where she was. There was a gleaming whiteness, and something sharp pressing painfully into her back. But most strange and disturbing of all was the terrible emptiness inside herself, the emptiness that she could not bear. She had to make the hunger go away. And then it all came back to her: the blindfold, the stairways, hating Hanna, everything. Hating Hanna: She clung to that. Hating was so vital, so necessary. It was even her duty, in fact, to probe into Hanna's odiousness, and to help the others, for their own good, to understand it.

Hanna opened her eyes and sat up. "Mmm," she said thickly.

Oliver sat up and stretched. "Hello, everybody." He yawned. "So we're still here, huh?"

Cheryl was still trying to sleep, curled up against the steps, her eyes closed. Peter's eyes were closed too, his chin resting against his chest. Blossom was beginning to feel something else, almost as uncomfortable as the hunger. It was horrible having to ask Hanna for help, but there was really no alternative. "Uh," she said. "Um, I have to—I mean, how do you get to …you know, what you found …?"

"Oh, yeah," Hanna said. "The toilet. I suppose you want to know where it is."

"Well, you're the only one who knows."

"Well, okay." Hanna looked around. "Anybody else wants to come?"

"I think I'll stick around and watch over the sleeping beauties here," said Oliver. "You can tell me how to get there later. I'll be able to find it. And maybe I'll try to get this thing here working again."

"Well, come on then," Hanna mumbled, and they started.

Hanna moved quickly. Soon Blossom was out of breath. Her thighs rubbed together stickily, and her skirt, which was beginning to feel dirty, flapped irritatingly around her knees. And Hanna was far ahead now, making Blossom feel clumsy and slow. And then Hanna stopped at a landing ahead. She looked from side to side, as if trying to decide which way to go. Blossom hurried to catch up with her. She was panting and her forehead was damp when she reached the landing. Hanna still had not moved.

"What's the matter?" Blossom said, gasping for breath. "Did you already forget where it is?"

"No, I did not forget," said Hanna, turning to her. "I'm just trying to decide which is the best way to go. And you can find it yourself if you don't like the way I'm doing it. I'm getting pretty sick of your attitude. Why are you always picking at me? What have you got against me anyway?"

"I—" Blossom began.

She had to be careful. Now she knew it had been a mistake to make it so obvious to Hanna that she hated her. She had to undo that now, for only if Hanna trusted her would she have the necessary power over her. "I just … when you first came along, you scared me, and you were mean. That's all."

Hanna slapped herself on the forehead and rolled up her eyes. "You still thinking about that? How long does it take you to forget something stupid like that?"

I never forget, thought Blossom.

"I mean, I already told you, I was just worried about the food," Hanna went on. "By now you should know the way I talk. It didn't mean anything." She shook her head. "You know, we're in a pretty tricky spot as it is. You're just making it worse."

"I … I guess you're right," said Blossom, making an effort to sound contrite. "I never really meant it, really. I just didn't want you to boss me around."

"Mmm," said Hanna, her eyes probing. "Sure that's all it was?"

"Yes," Blossom nodded quickly, pursing her lips. "I'm sure."

"Well, let's hope it's all over with now. I won't stand for much more of it."

"I … I know you wouldn't stand for it," Blossom said softly. "I guess I was just waiting for you to tell me to stop."

"Well, now I'm telling you. And I'll tell you something else. Somebody's got to get bossed around here, you better get used to it, because somebody's got to be the leader. If there's no leader, we'll never get anywhere. I'm not saying the leaders gotta be me, necessarily, but there's gotta be one."

Now that her breath and her wits were back, Blossom rose to Hanna's opening. "Oh, but I think it should be you," Blossom said. "Who else could be the leader? Not Peter, and not Cheryl, and not me. That just leaves you and Oliver. And, well, Oliver…."

"Yeah?" said Hanna. "Well, Oliver what?"

"I just think he's sort of strange," Blossom said thoughtfully, twisting a ringlet. "The way he was dancing around like that, singing those stupid songs and things…."

"You looked like you were enjoying it." Hanna was squinting at her suspiciously.

"Well, yes." Careful now, Blossom told herself.

"In fact, you were the one who defended him if I remember it right."

"But I was still mad at you then," said Blossom. "Now I—"

"Don't you have to go to the toilet?" said Hanna, turning around. "It's this way."

And she started up the stairs. Blossom felt like kicking her. She just had to find something she could use to turn the others against her. Ahead, Hanna bent over and picked something up from a step. It looked like a scrap of cloth. Hanna waited, whistling through her teeth, and she actually turned and smiled at Blossom when she reached her.

"We're almost there now," Hanna said, sounding pleased with herself. "See this? I tore it off my shirt and left it here yesterday, as a marker."

"Oh," said Blossom. It had been a clever thing to do in this confusing place, though it annoyed her to have to acknowledge any virtue in her enemy. Nevertheless, remembering her role, she said, "That was smart of you. I never would have thought of it."

"To tell you the truth, I almost didn't myself. In fact—" Watching Blossom's face, Hanna's smile quickly faded. "But I would have found the way without it," she added, her voice guarded again. "I'm gonna leave it here for the others."

She still doesn't trust me, Blossom said to herself, following her upward again. I've got to get her to trust me. But how?

And in the end, she succeeded, though not without a sacrifice.