by Teresa Grabs
“Over here, Tears,” Ansel called, waving his arms wildly over his head.
Echo smiled and waved back. Ansel, Jodi, Megan, and Echo had been in the same class since first year, and the four had become friends on the first day of school after they discovered none of them knew how to jump rope. Their teacher, Mr. Davis, thought it was disgraceful that first-year students could not jump rope, so he forced the four of them outside in the rain to learn. They could only go back in the school when they learned how to properly jump rope. Jodi was the first one back in just because he did know how, but he didn’t want to perform on command. Megan was next, then Ansel. It only took them an hour to learn how to coordinate their arms, swing the rope, and have their feet jump over it. Echo was not so lucky. After seven hours out in the rain, the school bell had rung, and the students could go home. Echo cried all the way home and earned the nickname Tears. She cried a lot during her early years at school, so the name stuck. She was okay with the nickname now because only her friends called her that, and they didn’t say it to be mean, but in the beginning, even the teachers called her that in a feeble attempt to toughen her up.
“Morning,” Echo said, finally reaching her friends through the sea of fifteen-hundred dark gray uniforms.
They grabbed Echo and pulled her into a group hug which released some of her built up anxiety. Standing near her friends, watching Ansel and Jodi pretend to shove each other was a great start to the day. She glanced around at all the faces, and no one seemed worried. She did her best to hide it, but Echo’s façade did not fool Megan.
“Don’t worry,” Megan said, fixing Echo’s ponytail so that it was straight again. “You’ll pass.”
“Of course, you will, Tears,” Jodi said, poking Echo’s check until she laughed.
The outside speaker droned over Ansel as he talked to Echo, so he started to mime. Other students stared and shook their heads while the friends stood there laughing at his ridiculous body language and facial expressions.
“Attention students,” Principal Sharpe announced. “Please report to the auditorium.”
Dutifully, students formed two lines, walked through the doors, and down the long central hall to the auditorium. Tenth-year students took their place on the stage in their assigned seats for the assembly. The ceremony looked very different on stage than it had the last four years sitting in the audience. Everyone on stage appeared to be hanging on every word that Principal Sharpe said, but all she noticed was how the stretched pinstripes on Principal Sharpe’s pants flowed in unflattering directions.
As the never-ending speech carried on, her mind wandered to the corners of the audience. Is that what I looked like? Did I sit there expressionless like a mannequin? Are we all just marionettes waiting for someone to pull our strings? Thunderous applause snapped her back to reality. Echo thought no one had noticed her slouching and wandering mind, but she was wrong. A short woman in an examination agent’s uniform had been watching the students on stage from the darkened wings. Echo watched as the examination agent talked to Mrs. Ford and poked her pencil in her direction. Her heart sank as the examination agent noted things in her small, black notepad and tucked it into her jacket pocket. The examination had not even started yet, and they were already making notes about her. Echo glanced around the wings and saw more examination agents watching them. As Principal Sharpe wrapped up his speech, the agents left as quickly and quietly as they came.
“We wish our tenth-year students the best of luck,” Principal Sharpe said. “We know you will all do well and make us proud. Please give them a round of applause as they exit the stage.”
◆◆◆
The physical fitness center was a large facility behind the main building where students attended their daily exercise classes. Today though, twenty-six letters taped to the wall behind twenty-six desks where twenty-six uniformed examination agents sat waiting to check in the students replaced the gymnastics equipment, boxing ring, and climbing ropes. Students walking in ahead of Echo gasped as they entered.
All year Principal Sharpe had instructed the tenth-year students on the day’s process so it would give the examination agents and official the impression he was doing an excellent job. He was in some regards. His zero-tolerance adherence to policies promoted unquestioned compliance in the students. Some students were so terrified of breaking some unknown rule they stitched them into the lining of their uniforms. That would have been enough if Principal Sharpe had not added regulations throughout the year. Echo and her friends stopped memorizing the rules and accepted the fact that they, just through virtue of being there, broke the rules.
Echo assumed her position in line in front of the letter M between Elizabeth Midland and Jasper Montague just as they had practiced in the parking lot for the past month. She liked being a Monat for the simple reason that she would never be first or last in anything. This experience was more nerve-wracking than she had expected. Even though the physical fitness room was empty of all equipment, it never felt so small as it did at that moment. The only sounds heard in the room were pencil scratches and whispers.
This part of the process was supposed to be easy. Stand in line and wait her turn in silence. Take one step forward as the student in front of her completed their processing. When she finished, continue at once to the field for the first examination. Principal Sharpe made it sound so simple, but now that the day was here, she felt just like she did in first-year when she stepped off the bus.
All tenth-year students knew the process, but not exactly what would be on the test. That was for citizens only to know, and they were not citizens yet. The practice exams and study guides were just on the rules and regulations each citizen must adhere to. Elizabeth completed her process and Echo gulped as she inched forward to face her inquisitor.
The woman appeared friendly enough. Her uniform was a standard issued lightweight black uniform that befitted the position, but the agent’s light gold trim and tie made the uniform crisp and refined. The bright gold trim reminded Echo of the many sunrises she spent in her dream home and made her smile.
“Why are you smiling?” the woman asked, glancing up from the stack of papers in front of her.
Echo quickly discovered the agent’s personality did not match her looks or the warmth of the dream sunrise. “I’m sorry.”
“Name?”
“Echo Monat.”
The woman stared at her, blinking, with pursed lips. Echo stared back afraid to do anything else and quietly watched as she placed a checkmark in a box on the form in front of her.
“Age?”
“Fifteen.”
“Assigned gender?”
“Female.”
The scraping of the pencil on the dry paper sent shivers up Echo’s spine. It took everything in her power to not run screaming from the physical fitness center, but thoughts of her mother giving her that ‘I knew it’ look kept her feet planted in front of the small metal table.
After several rounds of questions, the agent set her pencil down and sighed. “I am Agent Dobson. I will be watching your performance during the examination. You have the right to refuse the examination. Should you refuse, you will be assigned to the re-education center until such time you decide to take your examination. Do you understand?”
Re-education center? The re-education center where people perform manual labor twenty hours a day for Bakerton wearing bright red uniforms, so everyone knows they are not fit to be a citizen. That re-education center? Time froze until a small, whispered voice crept from her throat. “Yes.”
Agent Dobson pulled out her notepad and filled a page while tutting. Echo’s once moist mouth searched desperately for any type of liquid while her stomach worked on escape plans. What is she writing? I said, yes. When she finished writing in her notepad, Agent Dobson returned to the paperwork in front of her. Echo was more confused than ever. Principal Sharpe did not say it would be like this.
“Do you desire to become a citizen of Bakerton?”
&n
bsp; What? Of course, she did. Didn’t she? That was the point of all this, wasn’t it? Echo searched for her voice and found nothing more than a small nod. She would rather face her mother after hearing her daughter did not perform up to standards in math class again, or face down an anghenbeast than spend the next seven hours with Agent Dobson watching her. Still, she wasn’t alone. There were other students in the M line that also had to contend with the exam and Agent Dobson today. That was a small consolation prize.
“Sign here.” Agent Dobson pointed to a line on Echo’s Citizen Fitness Examination form.
The dark red ink of the agent’s pen looked like blood. She was sure she just made a deal with the devil for her soul. Agent Dobson took the form and fastened it to a large stack of papers. The sound of the metal paperclip snapping over the pile pierced her already tattered confidence and finished its crushing defeat. She took Agent Dobson’s card and silently headed for the sports field where they set up an examination platform a few days earlier.
Each step of the usually short distance was, in fact, now an emotional marathon and part of the examination. The examination agent for row G cleared his throat as Echo walked past. A good citizen moved quickly and efficiently regardless of their attire, health, or emotional state. Echo stiffened and hastened her pace to the sports field, carefully avoiding eye contact with any other agent.
When she reached the gate to the sports field, she saw how much it had transformed. Like the physical fitness center, Principal Sharpe had removed all non-examination items from the field. Students lined up in the same twenty-six rows as they were in the physical fitness center and Echo rushed to take her place behind Elizabeth. Ansel and Jodi flashed grins of support as she walked past their rows. The examination official stood on top of the platform. The sun gleamed off his bright red and gold uniform. His hair looked like he glued it in place that morning because no hair dared move even though there was a cool spring breeze. Each examiner stopped and bowed to the official as they entered the field and retrieved a stopwatch from a box on the platform.
He blew once on his whistle and twenty-six agents pulled out notebooks and pencils from their jackets. “Student-citizens,” he bellowed, “distance yourselves!”
Three hundred students stretched their arms and spun in a full clockwise circle ensuring they did not touch another student. Echo dreaded what was coming next. She didn’t mind exercise, but if it were as bad as rumored, she would surely die before the first exam was even over.
The official blew twice on his whistle. “Jumping jacks,” he shouted.
The agents watched intently as students jumped up and down and clapped their hands over their heads and smacked their legs. Concealed trinkets, pencils, erasers, and other small items flew out of pockets and landed in the dirt beneath their feet. Agents used binoculars to watch students in the middle of the rows. Cameramen assigned to the field also recorded the students’ movements for later evaluation. I’m going to die. I’m really going to die. On the count of one hundred, the official blew his whistle once, and three hundred students froze in whatever position they landed in. Echo reached for the sky and breathed deeply until another blow of the whistle began the next phase.
“Push-ups,” the official shouted. “Up…down…up…down,” he bellowed.
Three hundred students dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups. Several students dropped on the down and never got to the up after their thirtieth push-up. Echo surprised herself and made it to the full fifty for the first time. The official blew his whistle again and ordered the students through sit-ups followed by lunges. After the lunges section was over, the official blew his whistle twice. Echo’s legs cramped, and every inch of her body begged to sit down, but she had survived the first exam. There was hope for the rest of the exam.
“Line up near the track,” the official said.
What? Principal Sharpe said the lunges concluded the first exam. Nothing comes next. Students glanced at each other as they slowly lined up.
“We have added a new examination,” the official said. He looked at the students’ confused faces and chuckled. “The first person in each row will do the following: take a jump rope, run a quarter-mile then jump rope fifty times. You will continue this process around the track, then hand off the rope to the next person in your line. Do you understand?”
Two hundred and ninety-nine students shouted yes. Echo cringed and tried to think of ways to get out of doing this added exam since she had never learned how to jump a rope. When it was her turn, she ran the quarter-mile then tripped herself on the first jump. Somehow, she managed it knot the rope around her ankle, and it was all downhill from there. By the time she reached the half-mile mark, her pants had ripped and her knees bloody. Still, she tried to jump as instructed. She had to. She hobbled back to the starting point and completed her turn. She was never so happy to hand something to another person as she was that jump rope. Agent Dobson shook her head and made page after page of notes in her notepad. Echo’s row was the last on the track, but no one dared say anything to her. They just glared instead. Everyone except her friends. Two hours after the first exam began it was over. The students received a forty-minute break to clean up and prepare for the first of three written exams.
Three
After she washed her hands in the bathroom and applied bandages that an exam agent handed her as she limped off the field, Echo met her friends in the library. It was a small library as the only books allowed by the Bakerton Office of Literary Pursuits were textbooks, Bakerton history, books of scientific merit, and works by the Bakerton Poet and Novelist. Mrs. Hooper, the librarian, insisted on having as many tables and chairs that could fit into the room. Their regular table was in the back behind a row of books away from the prying eyes of Mrs. Hooper.
“Never did learn how to jump rope, huh?” Ansel joked, removing the last two books on the bottom shelf of a bookcase that rested against the school wall. He opened a hidden cubby hole, pulled out two contraband candy bars that his supplier placed there overnight, and replaced the books.
No one ever asked Ansel about his supplier because they enjoyed the fruits of his labor too much. Megan peeked around the corner of the last row of free-standing bookcases to ensure Mrs. Hooper was still sitting at her desk and flicked her wrist signaling it was safe. Ansel skillfully and silently opened the candy bars. It was an art he picked up in the children’s home after his parents discarded him when he was nine and honed to perfection over the last six years. Ansel never really liked talking about his life in the children’s home, so no one pressured him about it. They had enough pressure in their lives and didn’t need any more from their friends. Jodi scarfed his half of the candy bar in one gulp as did Ansel. Echo laughed. It was always a competition between the two boys to see who could stuff more in their mouth or break the most rules without detection.
Whispered talk of Principal Sharpe’s pants, student’s uniforms, and last night’s athletics at the stadium, eventually shifted to the odd official on the platform and their experience with the examination so far. They had different agents, but everyone had noticed that Echo’s seemed to be a real stickler for the rules and was hands down the meanest one in the group.
“Agent Lane told me not to worry about not being able to do all the push-ups because not all jobs require a lot of upper body strength,” Megan said, nibbling at her candy bar.
“Yeah,” Ansel said. “Agent Milford told me most of the jobs that I was interested in didn’t require being able to run fast.”
“Mine shook her head a lot and wrote things in her notepad.” Echo’s heart sank even more. She tried to hide under her arms on the table.
Megan kicked Jodi under the table, nodded toward Echo, and shot him the stern look of ‘do something.’ Jodi winked at Ansel who simply grinned and nodded. In an instant, the two boys leaped onto the table, carefully avoided Echo’s head, and sang the Bakerton anthem off key and in assorted styles. Mrs. Hooper looked up from her desk, leaned t
o the side so she could see who was making all the racket, shook her head, and laughed. There was a group like them every year. Other students in the library laughed or applauded. Even Echo couldn’t hold back her laughter long and was soon in tears she laughed so hard.
“There’s our girl,” Ansel said, jumping off the table.
“Don’t worry about the stupid exam,” Jodi said. “Everyone passes.”
Principal Sharpe’s voice blasted through the intercom announcing the examination would resume in five minutes. Everyone quickly headed back to the physical fitness room where the agents had arranged three hundred desks in their proper lines while the students took their first exam on the sports field. Echo watched as her friends silently and stoically went to their lines. She took her place behind Elizabeth and in front of Jasper. The official was once again in front of the students. He paced behind tables that separated him from the agents. Stacks of examinations covered the tables and sent Echo into panic mode.
“You will have exactly sixty minutes for this exam on Bakerton history, citizen’s rights, and communal regulations,” he said. Each of the agents picked up a stack of examinations, pencils, and distributed them down their rows. “There will be no cheating, no talking, no breaks, and no questions will be answered by your examiner or me. Do you understand?”
Three hundred students responded, “Yes.”
When the last agent returned to the line of tables, the official blew his whistle. The only sounds heard in the room were pencils scraping and the rustle of starched collars. The first ten questions were simple questions that all student-citizens knew because they had recited the Bakerton oath, anthem, motto, and purpose since they were first-year students. Echo wished that was all the examination covered. History was not her strong suit. She doubted anything was her strong suit. She was at the lowest level in everything except natural science. That came natural to her, but it was also the subject with the least amount of material to learn. Except for knowing the composition and use of dirt, air particles, and the influence of natural elements on buildings, there was nothing else to learn. This examination asked about the fifth rule of death, the two hundred and sixty-third duty of a citizen, and the role of the Citizen Fitness Examination in promoting a healthy citizenry.
