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| Image by ping phuket at freedigitalphotos.net |
Chapter One
Verity
Every morning at six, we walked to the commissary, passed the
marketplace in the center of our quarter, passed the muddy fields pocked with
shoeprints, and passed the young girl who waited for us, with hair as brown as
the mucky field. Our group consisted of one hundred citizens, male and female,
ranging in age from twelve to twenty-one.
In lock step, heads down, we arrived, famished, ready for our
morning rations.
The Immortalis waited at the commissary door, standing like
bookends on either side of the entrance. They towered over citizens—all citizens. This was a fact, a
simple variant between species, and citizens did not envy such distinctions.
Most of my family and friends didn’t notice the Immortalis, not their size,
hair color, sound of their voices, nor dress. Staring at them was forbidden;
therefore, any glance I stole needed to be fleeting and hopefully
unobserved.
The large guards unlocked and opened the doors. We filed
inside, orderly and calmly, leaving the dry, bitter air behind, welcoming the
commissary’s heated interior.
Once indoors, the crowd dispersed, moving toward particular
stations, depending upon the type of ration tickets they had. I had the female,
adolescent voucher. It allowed me to eat slightly more protein and dairy than
those who had adult voucher cards. Females over seventeen received the minimum
rations, not including children under twelve. Males over twenty-one qualified
for the second least.
The adolescent ration station was at the front of the enormous
room. Its line lengthened, rapidly. Already in front of me were thirty
teenagers, all girls. I took my place at the back of the line, behind a girl
wearing brown pants, soiled at the knees, a cream wool sweater two sizes too
big, and a standard issue orange, winter coat indicating she belonged to
Stratum Lûteus. I belonged to
Stratum Flâvus; my jacket was
yellow.
Today, was Thursday, which meant they would serve fish, kale,
apples, and a grainy roll at morning meal. I hated kale.
I shuffled to my right and took the metal tray when a worker
set it on the counter in front of me. At the end of the counter, another worker
waited for us to flash our voucher cards confirming we were in the correct line.
Ethel, her nametag displayed on her shirt collar, was the voucher
inspector. She looked down at my plastic card and then back to my face. One nod
meant you could go eat because your card was correct. A headshake sent you to
the council; no one I knew had ever gotten a headshake.
I exhaled and slouched, heading for my usual table where I
hoped to find Jacquard.
The metal chairs at our table, Jacquard’s and mine, were empty.
I sat, put down my tray, and bit into the fish. It was a white fish, probably
trout, not bad. The kale, on the other hand, gagged me, but I had to eat it. As
I swallowed the last spoonful of the bitter vegetable, Jacquard pulled a chair
out, straddled it, and plopped down.
“Hey, Vee,” Jacquard said, using my nickname instead of my
given name, Verity. “Sup?”
“Nothing, Jay,” I answered, poking at the roll with my finger.
“How’s your mother?”
He shrugged and ate the two fish in about four bites, considering
the roll on his tray next.
“Did she talk with the medic?” I examined my roll. It was hard,
but surprisingly tasty.
“Yep.” Jay studied his roll, turning it over, as if he might
find a hidden treasure somewhere on it. I suppose he could be looking for mold.
Sometimes they gave us moldy bread in order to get rid of it, as they weren’t
permitted to throw anything out, unless it was meat and spoiled. I don’t know
why. It’s just how it is.
“Yep? That’s all you’re going to give me?” Polishing off the
roll, I glanced at the wall clock. We had twenty more minutes before the exit
doors would open and everyone would need to leave. I didn’t know why he was being
so secretive about his mom. She’d been sick for over a year now.
“What’s there to say? She saw the medic; she’s still sick.”
I waited, but he never continued. Guess that is all I was going
to get.
“Will they put her to work?” I pushed my tray away.
Jay looked at me with squinty, gray eyes and a hard-set mouth.
One shake of his head was the only answer given. He finished his roll, all of
the fish, and even ate the kale with gusto. Then, he pushed his tray back,
folded his arms over that strong chest of his, and stared at me.
“What?” I wiped at my mouth and then beneath my nose. “Do I
have something on my face?”
He gave me a slow smile, saying, “No.”
“Well, why are you looking at me like that?”
Jay was a year older than my sixteen years, which meant this
was his last year in the adolescent group. Then, the Immortalis would move him
to one of the young adult circles.
I’d known him most of my life. Our houses are not far apart,
and we went to school together, but weren’t in the same classes.
At ex-hour—short
for exercise hour—we’d stand
next to each other as the instructor counted out the group’s jumping jacks.
Sometimes, Jay walked me home. But every weekend he and I would hang out.
Our favorite place to go was the little stream near the mud
fields. We would throw rocks into the water, hunt for crayfish beneath the
stones, and on warm days, which were rare, we waded barefoot in the water.
I’ve always thought of him as a friend, like a brother, but
nicer. Until one weekend, during the summer, we were at our favorite spot by
the stream lying on our backs, gazing at the sky, when he rolled to his side
and kissed me. On my mouth.
I pulled back, wiped my lips, and ran away. I was only
thirteen. He was fourteen. But ever since that day, we’ve remained guarded around
each other, as if a fence stood between us, allowing us to see each other but
not get too close.
“No reason, Vee. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
