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  Raya pulls the floral party dress over my head and zips it up in back. She definitely picked the right one. The pastel pink and blue go nicely with my dark blonde hair. Unlike me, Raya is a master in fashion. I just want to be comfortable; I often forget to think about how I look.

  Raya brings me over to the vanity and sits me down to do my hair. She twists the long waves into an elegant up do, which is not an easy task considering my hair is very thick. My hair color is really nothing like I’ve ever seen before. The exact color of graham crackers and it bounces and undulates in a somehow orderly manner. Nothing like my parents, that’s for sure. As Raya does my hair, I watch her cinnamon head glinting in the early morning sunshine. Her hair is always pulled back in a tight bun, like all the female Workers who serve us. Finally, I’m done and just in the nick of time too, because I’m starving!

  I skip down the large curving staircase leading to our foyer and turn to the kitchen. But as I’m about to push open the swinging door, something small and fiery red streaks through it and pummels right into me. Now knocked onto the floor, I look up to find my little sister sitting awkwardly on top of me, bubbly and full of mischief.

  “Georgie!” I exclaim loudly, but I can’t bring myself to be angry or even annoyed, she just looks so alive.

  “Sorry!” she practically sings at me. “Mom sent me to find Raya. I’ve ruined my hair again!”

  I look up at her hair. Mother’s right but this isn’t a surprise. Georgianna’s bright red locks can never be tamed. They’re wavy like mine, but not in the orderly way that mine are. They engulf her head so that you have to do a double take to make sure her head isn’t on fire.

  I give her a teasing smile. “Silly, there’s nothing Raya can do to fix that!”

  She gets me back by tickling me right below my ribcage, my weakness, and then bolting to the stairs calling behind her, “Got to find Raya!” And as quickly as she came, she disappears. I’m still smiling as I swing the door open and enter the kitchen. If I had to pick one word to describe my eight year old sister, it would be “spunky”.

  Mother and Father are sitting at the dining table as I walk in. They both look up from their toast and coffee to smile at me and tell me good morning.

  “I was just reading in the paper, Willamina, that it can be bad for female teens to read too many fictional works.” My mother declares.

  “Really?” I reply calmly even though that makes me slightly uneasy. If there’s one thing I can’t live without, it’s my books. “And do they say why they’re supposedly bad?”

  “Well…” She starts scanning the article. “No, they don’t but…”

  “Oh, let the girl have her books, darling.” My father intervenes.

  Mother sighs. “Alright, it was just a thought.”

  The rest of breakfast is silent, not in an awkward way, but in a peaceful one. That is, until Mother reminds me to eat my fill now so I don’t pig out at the luncheon in front of the guests. If there was such thing as a professional hostess, Mother would be one of them.

  After breakfast, there’s time before the guests start arriving, so I go take a walk in the garden. I sit down beside the fountain and look down into the water. Everything about my life, this place, just everything, it all seems pointless. But the worst part is no one seems to care, or even notice! No one but me. I look down at my reflection, straight into my wise grey eyes. Something is wrong with the world, and I need to know what.

  The lunch is as I expect it to be, long, pointless, and boring. It’s set up on our extensive grounds and the summertime flowers make it look like a dream. Countless ladies stroll leisurely past, pausing by my mother and me to shake hands, if you can call it that, considering they don’t grip your hand or move it up and down at all, and tell us how pleased they are to be here. Then they all slowly make their way to the buffet line and load up on delicacies. Once the food has been served, the ladies make their way to the tables to find their assigned seats; Mother has been coordinating seating arrangements for a week straight. One time, when I was very young, I saw her pouring over seating charts for a similar upcoming luncheon. I had asked her why where everyone sat was so important and she replied, “Willa, dear, parties are an art form and every little detail must be thought out. You see, if I put the wrong people at the same table –for example, too many strangers together, or ladies who don’t get along very well– then the whole event will be a disaster!” But I think the big reason is so she can have all her close, important friends at her table. I love my mother, but I’ve always known it’s important to her to be important.

  I am seated to my mother’s right, a sign of affection, I know. Our entire table is made up of prominent social figures. The kind that lesser known ladies watch with an unnatural enthusiasm. In fact, I can feel dozens of eyes watching our table from all across the lawn as I try to eat a finger sandwich. Needless to say, my appetite is quickly dissolving.

  “Evangeline!” A stiff and strict lady by the name of Mrs. Walters says to my mother. “Did you see what Flora Mckinley was wearing to the Midsummer Dinner last week?”

  “Of course!” my mother replies excitedly, “That shade of red is simply scandalous!” All the other ladies nod and murmur their agreement.

  Slowly, my mind leaves the conversation, and I let it, knowing they won’t likely talk to me or speak of anything interesting. Never mind importance.

  I watch a cheery yellow, fluffy bumble bee buzz around a flower next to our table. In my head, I name him Otis. Otis looks like he has his life figured out; everything makes sense for Otis. I envy the little guy, life is easy for him and he knows his purpose. And watching Otis, I come very close to dozing off in the warm sunshine. The voices of overly excited women rise and fall around me. Otis flies farther and farther away until he’s out of sight. I wish I could follow him. I wonder where he’ll go…

  After what seems like an eternity of smiling and pretending to be interested in gossip, the last chattering lady has left!

  As soon as I’m free, I race to the garage to find my pod. I climb inside the little automated vehicle. Everyone in our town has one. They all fit one person and are auto piloted.

  I miss my best friend, Amelia, whom I call Mia. I haven’t seen her in a few days and I need to talk to someone who can sympathize with the way I was forced to spend my day. Mia isn’t one to enjoy socializing in that way either, but unlike me, she’s vocal about it.

  I’m typing the address onto the screen when the familiar streak of red zooms into the garage and starts tapping on the window of my pod to get my attention. In the time that I take to open the door, Georgie’s turned the tapping into a drum solo of sorts. She’s definitely got spunk!

  “Yes?” I inquire sticking my head out the door.

  “Mother says you have to come in for dinner!” She announces like she’s giving me a present.

  “But we’ve been eating all day! We held a party for hours just to eat!”

  “Mother says no but’s!” she says in a very strict voice.

  “Really?” I ask. “And how did Mother know I’d say those exact words?”

  She blanks for a second before saying decisively, “If Mother did know, that’s what she would say to you.”

  I smile at her bossiness and climb out of my pod. I’ll go see Mia soon. I think to myself. I have to. I need to know what’s wrong in my life and with the world I live in. Maybe she knows… or at least understands…

  Chapter Three

  Nathan

  I quickly step through the door and quietly shut it behind me. It must be past midnight by the time I finally get home. It had been one of the longest and hardest days I’d had in a while. Mr. Thompson was feeling ill, or so he told me when I arrived at dawn, and sent me away for the day. I wasn’t discouraged, for I found plenty more chores to be done on my own acre of land. Though it wasn’t exactly the breath of fresh air I’d hoped for, the chance to finally clear some land, fix the roof, clean the ice box, mend the fence, and tear down the
rotting back steps… Everything seemed to go wrong. What should’ve taken half an hour turned into three hours gone. It was one thing after another; building, burning, fixing, hunting, digging, cleaning. My whole body aches, my hands blistered and bloody, my shoulders are burned and sore, and my leg muscles hurt so badly it’s a struggle to continue walking. I need a lot of rest, but I know I only have a five hours at the most and I’m not about to waste them.

  I peek into Gabby and Cinda’s room where I find them sound asleep. I don’t think I could wake them if I tried. Their room is pretty much just four walls and the bed they share, there’s not a lot of room for anything else. Gabe is also knocked out on his much smaller bed. I’m gonna have to make him a new one soon. He’s almost outgrown it. I assume Leila is asleep with my mother when I don’t find her in her cradle by Gabe’s bed. I’m lucky enough to get my own room. Gabe was originally supposed to share it with me instead of sleeping in the kitchen, but he made it quite clear that he didn’t want to share anything with me. Typical but I didn’t argue. I don’t have a bed though; I sleep on a mat on the floor. It’s not as comfortable as the beds but after working nonstop since five every morning, it does the job.

  I’m about three steps from my door –where I plan on collapsing and falling asleep in seconds– when I hear my mother talking from the other room. I guess she must be talking to my father, which is strange, they hardly ever talk and certainly not at midnight. Still standing by my door, I can’t help but listen in. This must be important. I first hear my mother; her voice is low but sounds fearful.

  “I’m just worried. The year has arrived. We can’t avoid it this time and if we tried…they might take all of us.”

  “Look,” My father cuts in, his cold voice automatically sending a wave of anger and annoyance up my spine, “The Tecks…they have everything there. They’re not going to go out of their way for a few skinny children. What worth are we to them?”

  I’m immediately drawn into their conversation now that it’s so clear they’re talking about the Tecks. Just the name makes me sick! The Tecks are disgusting, power hungry animals! They came in decades ago and took over. They’re the ones who did this to us, they’re the reason we live in misery. They’re the ones who make impossible to live with rules and kill us when we break them to survive. They’re the ones that treat us like nothing, like we’re only rats on their planet. I hate the Tecks! I hate them with every fiber of my being! If I didn’t have my family…sisters…here who needed me, I’d get myself some serious gun powder and dynamite to blow that horrible place and everyone in it sky high!

  “We have plenty of worth, at least the young children that are still able to work do. They could come at any time and take away our men and young boys to make them into soldiers or…” She stops. I listen carefully, not wanting to miss what she says, but I wish I had. It feels like a punch in the gut and I get a cold, painful, tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers when I hear my mother spill out the chilling words. “Or if they take our children for slaves. If they come and take the girls away from us, to make them work as slaves for the rest of their lives, I’d be forced to stand back and watch.”

  No! I mentally scream at her, No, you could fight for them! You could stand up and fight to save the lives of your children!

  My father sighs with frustration, “Listen, woman, those kids aren’t anything to them. They will never be worth the food they eat. I don’t want to hear another word about this! Understood?” He snaps at her harshly. His temper sends a burst of anger down my throat. Could he really care so little? If his eight and four year old daughters were dragged away from home to work for some heartless cowards, I wouldn’t be surprised if he allowed it and thanked them for it.

  The thought rages in my brain as I hear my mother say in a weak voice, “I understand.” Then she stands up to walk out of the room. I shut my door with a bit of slam that I’m sure they heard.

  I lay there for what feels like hours, thinking. My mind races with what I’ve heard my parents say and now all I can think about is how to keep my sisters from the Tecks. I try to shake away the question that keeps popping up in my mind, but it won’t fade away. Where would I take the girls if something ever happened, if they ever tried to take them? Could I fight them off? I’d have to because no one else would. They need someone in their corner and I’m all they’ve got. I’m their only chance.

  Somehow, after closing my eyes for a moment, sleep came and went like dust on the wooden floor. The sun fills my room with the orange glow of morning. I force my eyes open and let out an almost painful grunt. I lay there watching the light creep across the floor. This is the first time in what feels like forever that I’ve seen the sun rise from home. I know I’m already unbelievably late. I’m too late to hunt and I’m gonna get a good lash of complaints from Mr. Thompson. Knowing I’m late, I still can’t bring myself to sit up. I try a few times but the pain from my shoulders and leg muscles make it a chore. It’s impossible, I can’t get up, I never will, I think to myself. But then the horrifying thought of, Mr. Thompson will be so furious, he’ll tell me to get lost, crosses my mind. I need this job, more so than the luxury of rest. So, I force myself to get up. I almost let out a horrific cry when I jerk myself to my feet, but I hold it in and stand perfectly still and straight for a minute or so. I finally work through the pain of getting dressed.

  I open my door and walk into the kitchen where Gabe, Gabby, Cinda, and my mother are eating breakfast. The moment Cinda’s eyes meet mine her face is lit up with the brightest smile I’ve seen in a very long time.

  “Nate! You’re still here!” She cheers as she jumps off her chair and wraps herself around my legs. Though her unusually tight grip around my aching thighs and calves makes me want to cry out, I only laugh and allow her to hold on longer. Gabby gives me a beautiful, innocent smile showing that she’s just as happy to see me. Gabe rolls his eyes as he shoves another mouthful of eggs and grits into his mouth. A different reaction comes from my mother. Her face fills with aggravation and anger.

  “You were supposed to leave two hours ago.” She snaps as she sets a plate of eggs on the table. Something about her tone makes me mad. Because I slept in one morning, I’m a lazy waste. Figures.

  “Yeah, I know.” I reply, annoyed.

  “I’m happy you’re here!” Cinda exclaims with excitement, “Are you going to stay all day?” As I start to reply, my mother cuts in.

  “No, he is not. He’s just leaving.” She shoots me a look that tells me to get going, and then sends a fake smile to Cinda.

  “Yeah,” I say, not hurt but sorry, “I gotta get. I’m already in for a beating when I get to Mr. Thompson’s.”

  Cinda looks disappointed. I give her and Gabby a kiss on the forehead before I’m out the door.

  I try not to waste any more time on the walk to Mr. Thompson’s, but not being able to run is putting me even longer behind schedule. The sun is already high in the sky when I arrive. I’m usually working by the time it’s light out. And there he is, sitting on the front deck as usual, waiting for me. He looks even crosser then I imagined he’d be. I take a deep breath, holding my head high; I take what feels like a death walk up to him. He looks at me with fire in his eyes and after a while of just staring at each other he finely says, “You gonna get to work, boy? Or do you have some wide range excuse you’d like to share?”

  I think very carefully about my answer while he looks at me impatiently. I just shake my head.

  “Good then, because I don’t want to hear it. You’ll stay extra hours tonight to make up for the three you missed! Am I clear?” He asks with a harsh voice, but he sounds calmer than he was originally.

  “Yes, sir. I understand and I apologize.” He nods and looks away from me, letting me know the conversation’s over.

  I start pulling my tools out from underneath his porch where he lets me store them and proceed to lay them out by the fence. I’ve been working no more than five minutes when I look up to see someone ho
vering over me. I push myself to my feet with a bit of a jump. The stranger smiles curiously, like how a sewer rat would smile if one could. I take a step back and his eyes narrow a bit. Just like a rat, I think. We stand in awkward silence for three seconds before I can’t take it.

  “Can I help you with something?” My voice comes out more timid than I planned.

  He chuckles with sincere humor, sending a tickle of ice down my spine. I hold my head up a little higher as a completely different feeling of unease sinks in along with his question.

  “That depends. Are you Nathan?”

  Chapter Four

  Willamina

  The sunlight coming from my tall bay window streams through my closed eyelids. Raya isn’t here yet because I can sleep as long as I want on summer days when there’s nothing planned. Slowly, I let my eyes drift open and look around my room, which is filled with bird song from the tree outside my window. The only thing that convinces me to leave the comfort of my bed is the recollection that I want to go see Mia today.

  I zoom through my usual morning routine, pulling on a plain light blue dress without any frills before Raya can come in and pick out something fancy. Last year, I saw a teenage girl, a Worker from the other side of the gate, being escorted roughly to the government building. I knew she had done something very wrong to get taken there; most Workers never even get a glimpse of the inner town unless they’re trained to serve us. But I will always remember that she was wearing pants. They were a rough material and an ugly brown color, but they looked so freeing. Girls on this side only ever wear dresses in varying lengths and levels of formality. I’ve never forgotten the girl wearing pants and I never will.

  I brush out my long waves and refuse to do anything else to them, because that’s how I’m feeling today. I guess thinking about the girl makes me feel stronger for some reason. But then I remember the panic in her eyes. She was trying to call out, whether for mercy or for help I’ll never know, but all that came out were shrill whimpers. She reminded me of a deer, like I’ve read about in my books, who suddenly found herself a captive and in danger. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so strong.