Free The Future's Mine by L J Leyland

darted to the cruel hands of the Metropolite and I ushered the birds away from him as inconspicuously as I could. Butterflies flitted in between the exotic flower arrangements and settled picturesquely on the golden surfaces, as beautiful as living paintings. A young cherubic child, dressed in a golden ruff and tunic, played a melodic tune on the harp. The high notes reverberated in my chest.
    My eyes found the Mayor and my heart filled with pity. All this beauty for what? This was the best Brigadus could muster and yet, the Metropolites still looked as though they had seen better. They picked at their nails and tightly smiled at our efforts which had failed to achieve their high standards. The Mayor’s grin was beginning to falter. His gums were bright red and his eyes were bloodshot.
    As we laid the table for the dessert course, the Mayor’s eyes darted from dish to dish. Saliva pooled at the corners of his wormy lips. He was trying to decide which delicacy to demolish first. The sophisticates from the Metropole picked daintily at the dishes, never taking more than a spoonful from the plates. They probably ate this well every day. They ate with great care, ensuring no crumbs ruined their smart suits. The Mayor’s expression was pained: I sniggered as I saw he was secretly having an internal battle with himself. He desperately wanted to cram as much food into his belly as possible but didn’t want to come across as a crude provincial.
    With the Metropolites focused on cutting their pears into tiny slivers, I saw the Mayor’s piggy eyes dart from side to side. Seeing the coast was clear, he closed his sausage fingers around a delicate bun topped with saffron. He concealed it inside his jacket pocket and smiled smugly to himself. There was no need for him to steal food; he had all the food he ever wanted. I suppose it was the feeling of taking something illicitly which would make the roll taste all the more sweet to him later on. The smugness on his face made me burst into laughter that I quelled just a fraction too late.
    The Mayor and the Metropolites turned to look at me. The young Metropolite smiled as though I had handed him a gift. He had obviously seen the Mayor take the roll and was thinking exactly the same as I was – what a gluttonous slob the Mayor was. I gave a small coughing fit in a feeble attempt to pass off the laughter as an ailment but it was too late. The Mayor had his eyes trained on me with a look of pure loathing that slithered inside me and turned my blood cold. The Metropolite then did something which sealed my fate.
    He readied himself like a lizard stalking its prey, stretching out his bony fingers and licking his lips with his thin, pink tongue. With a smirk he turned to the Mayor and said in very precise English with a cold mainlander accent, ‘This food really is delicious. You really must try one of these saffron buns, they’re very tasty.’ The three Metropolites began shaking with suppressed superior laughter.
    And there it was. Their open contempt and distaste for the Mayor laid bare for all to see. The Mayor was no fool. He knew that they were laughing at him. He tried to hoist his mouth into a gracious smile and said, mollified, ‘Thank you, but I’m feeling quite full,’ which only further ignited their mirth.
    ‘Please excuse me,’ said one of the bespectacled Metropolites. He headed to the harp as though to inspect the instrument but everyone could see his back shaking from the effort of concealing his laughter. His occasional snorts puncturing the growing silence.
    Our tutor ushered the serving girls towards the table, trying to create some hustle and bustle to conceal the awkwardness of the situation but the damage had been done. I hung back, next to the cutlery table, pretending to count the spoons but my face was getting redder, and hotter. The Mayor would not stand for being openly mocked by one of his inferiors and I knew my laugh would not go unpunished. I fought the