Selected

by Barb Han

  “How many times do you go in each semester?”

  “It depends. Sponsored kids are monitored heavily. They want to make sure we’re mentally adjusting to the academics and environment. They want to make sure our bodies are performing at peak condition. Everything about us has to be perfect or we’re useless to them.”

  “I thought I was under pressure.” He sighs. His lips move against the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. His hand traces the burn mark on my right forearm. “What happened?”

  My instincts take over, and I make a move to hide the white patch.

  “Don’t do that.” I can feel his warm breath in my hair.

  I try to relax, which is hard because I’ve been covering up the marks on my arm for as long as I can remember. Ever since the seventh grade, when the council expressed interest in me for the program.

  “A group of jerks blew through my old neighborhood stealing what little supplies we had, damaging property. One of them set a cat on fire. Or, at least tried. I burned myself saving it.” I’m embarrassed to admit how poor we were…are.

  “That was brave.” Caius lifts my arm and kisses it.

  “No, it wasn’t.” My cheeks burn.

  “Don’t be embarrassed.”

  “I’m not…I just don’t…usually talk this much,” I say awkwardly. I’m still that shy girl inside that I’ve always been.

  His body tenses beside me.

  This is a good time to change the subject. “These walls feel like a prison. Everywhere I go for the past few weeks Eleanor Chaffee has been sending me reminders to get back on track.”

  “What kind of reminders?”

  I’m grateful he goes with the change in topic. I am my least favorite subject.

  “She has eyes everywhere.” I push off the bed and move to my desk to retrieve my AllinOne. I tug at the corners to expand the screen as I reposition myself in front of my boyfriend. His arms wrap around me, and I feel warm again.

  There are three messages from Jax waiting. I’d turned down the volume on notifications, so I had no idea he’s been trying to reach me. His name brings more of that hot water to the surface, where it simmers.

  I pull up Mrs. Chaffee’s messages. Caius skims through them and then leans back. “I think there’s more to it than her simply having people strategically placed to watch you. How could she know about all these places and not ours?”

  I gasp. “What if she does?”

  “Then we’d be in a lot of trouble,” he says after a thoughtful pause. “There’s no way they’d let it go on this long.”

  “Guess I figured kids were eager to snitch on me.” I shrug.

  “Who would do that? Who has time?” The answer dawns on him. “Except for Rhys. He’s been a jerk.”

  “Speaking of Rhys, I forgot to tell you what he said the other day. Something about my family deserving everything they had coming to them.” I clench my hands into fists. “You don’t think a Legacy family wanted revenge, do you?”

  “Right now, I’m not sure what to believe,” he admits. “It’s obvious you don’t want to speak to Jax right now, but we need to know what he found.”

  “You think he was trying to tell me something about the program? Or about my family?” It would make sense. What if he’d discovered something? Maybe he hadn’t spent three days with Terrible Tilly. What if he’d been tortured or threatened? Now, I feel bad. He acted guilty before, but he also acted scared. “Every time he spoke to me after his note was taken up in class, he looked around like he was afraid someone would catch us talking to each other.”

  “I’m not the one saying this, but he might be a better friend than you gave him credit for,” he admits. His warm breath ruffles my hair again. No matter how crazy the world is, this spot, right here, sitting with my back against his chest and his arms around me, gives me hope.

  “He never stays at school over summer. They always monitor my AllinOne messages,” I say, a little deflated.

  “I guessed as much.”

  “So, how can we find out what he knows if I can’t reach out to him?”

  “Easy. We pay him a visit. I know where he lives. We can get there and back before morning.”

  “How? Eleanor Chaffee is monitoring my every move.” Panic rises at the thought of getting caught. “There’s no way I’m getting out of here without her knowing something’s up.”

  “When we go to the hill, what do you do differently?” I’m not sure where he’s going with this when he adds, “We always follow the same pattern, right?”

  I nod. “First, I go to the studio. Then, I start stretching until you show up or my time is done.”

  “That’s it?” he asks. “There’s nothing else you remember?”

  Not really. I retrace my steps mentally. I always grab my dance bag and head over. I take the same path every time. Once I’m in the studio and get my room, I set my bag down and then throw my hair up in a ponytail. Then, I take off my bracelet and start…

  Hold on a minute.

  “I take off my bracelet,” I say under my breath as I reach for it on my nightstand. I hold it on my flat palm. “I always take off my bracelet before I stretch.”

  “When did you get that?” His brow arches.

  “Before my birthday.” Suddenly, the timing of the present makes sense. I got it two days before my birthday.

  “Are there other times when you take it off?”

  “Only to shower and sleep.”

  “So as long as that thing’s where it’s supposed to be, we can move around.” I can almost hear the gears grinding in his mind.

  “As long as we aren’t caught by enforcers,” I remind him. “There are even more now to get past, plus the drones.”

  “Only at school. If I can get you off campus, then we should be okay.”

  “What if he’s one of them now?” I hate to think that about Jax. “He could turn us in.”

  “He won’t,” Caius says with confidence that I don’t feel.

  “I have to figure out what Plankton means. My brother used to say it was underestimated when we were kids. It means something important, but I can’t figure out what.”

  “He doesn’t want to be underestimated, maybe. Or he wants you to know he’s fine.” Caius is thinking out loud. I can tell based on the question marks in his tone.

  “Whatever it is, the council thinks I’m involved.”

  “Or will be,” he counters.

  “True.” I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. “They do seem overly concerned about any contact I’ve had with my family.”

  “Which probably means they’re covering up something.” Something like my brother dying in a fire with a weapon that killed a councilman’s family?

  “There’s no question in my mind they are. Every time I’m around Councilwoman Snyder I have the feeling that she’s afraid of what I know,” I admit. “I wish there was a way to sneak into the headmaster’s office. I bet we could find something if we did some digging around in there.”

  “I may not be able to get us into Davidson’s office, but I can get us to Jax’s house.” He shifts my position and climbs off the bed. My back is cold the minute he leaves, and an icy chill runs down it at the thought of what we’re about to do.

  “You mean, like, now?” Disbelief settles in.

  “How good are you with tight spaces?” he asks with that effortless smile. His dimple is exposed.

  “How tight?” My stomach clenches. I’m not a huge fan of enclosed spaces, especially when we have no idea what will be waiting outside.

  “At its worst, my shoulders barely fit, but it opens up fast after that.” He stops and looks into my eyes. He recites the address in case we’re separated, which I repeat in my mind a few times. Rote memorization has always been easy for me.

  I nod before following him into my
closet where there’s a vent door that can’t be bigger than two feet square. When he says its shoulder width for him, he means when he’s wedged in diagonally.

  Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves, I go in after him. It’s dark. The only light is behind me. I have more room in the tunnel than him. He must not be able to breathe. I remind myself that he comes through here often, so it can’t be that bad. I’ve found the more I dwell on how awful something is, the worse it actually becomes.

  My breath is coming fast, my pulse is climbing, and I can feel myself start to panic as I crawl behind him, wedged partially on his side.

  “Almost there,” he says as he inches forward.

  Moving is much easier for me since I’m smaller, but still I feel like a fish on dry land, gasping. We’re in the tunnel for what has to be a full five minutes before he finally pushes out the other side. I follow, and relief washes over me as I crawl out onto the grass. It’s still slightly wet from an evening rain shower.

  We’re on the back side of the dorms, which are located on the east side of school property. The studio is on the west side, and that’s near the tree line I slip into when I meet Caius on the hill.

  He takes my hand, links our fingers together, and leads me between the buildings. We weave around until we make it to the studio.

  Everything’s quiet except for the crickets and cicadas. The grass is slick underneath my shoes, and I’m grateful that I wore runners. I have a very bad feeling I can’t explain. I tug on my boyfriend’s hand as soon as we make it into the tree line.

  He stops and turns.

  “That was too easy.”

  “I know,” he responds. He knows?

  “What should we do now?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Is someone watching us?

  “Go back.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Caius is gone when I wake in the morning, my mind still reeling from everything I learned yesterday. He’s right—it’s too soon to try and contact Jax. The Sponsored kids might be looking away, but there are eyes constantly on me.

  Breakfast is like every other meal has become. Not one Sponsored kid looks me in the eyes. Everyone I pass suddenly becomes interested in the white-tile floor. No one dares to speak to me.

  My brain still refuses to accept the thought that anything bad has happened to Trevor. My brother would never hurt innocent people, and especially not kids.

  My mother, well, who knows where she is or what she’s doing? I can only hope she’s with Trevor. I have no idea how they’re involved in any of this or what this even is. Have they gone underground or fled? Are they in fear of their lives? Was there some kind of threat like the constant one I feel? A wildfire lights inside me. Liquid heat spreads through my veins.

  Going through my routines in the studio today is going to be torture. I have to keep up appearances, though. Whoever was watching last night will be keeping tabs today. We weren’t caught. We gave away nothing, so no harm, no foul there. Caius is right, though. We need to speak to my buddy.

  I haven’t opened any of his messages, but I’ll do that after dinner. I always check messages at night and, once again, I need to follow my regular routine as closely as possible.

  By the time I’m in the studio, my nerves are strung tight. I pull my hair up in a high ponytail and then start stretching. It doesn’t take long for my mind to settle. I put on my music and lose myself in my routine.

  A soft knock startles me.

  Dr. Sara peeks her head inside the door. I should’ve known. I grunt and then quickly recover with a forced smile.

  “Victoria, can I see you for a few minutes?” she asks, like I have a choice.

  I’ve learned not to question her. I put my warm-ups on over my leotard and then grab my dance bag in case I don’t make it back before my time expires. Privacy is an illusion and yet I still don’t like the idea of leaving my stuff out in the open for any random person to pilfer.

  We walk out of the Arts building and into the administration offices. I follow her down the long hallway with pictures of past headmasters lining the walls. Her office is like walking into a retreat. The overhead light is never on. There’s soft light from a lamp on her desk.

  She motions toward the desk with two chairs opposite and then the large conference table. She wants me to pick where we sit. She wants me to feel comfortable and in control, which is all more smoke and mirrors as far as I’m concerned. She also wants to see if I think I’m the most powerful person in the room. Choose wrong and I send a lot of messages that I’m hoping to avoid. I want her to feel in control, and so I pick a chair across from her desk.

  Once inside her office, she keeps the door open. I’m supposed to feel less threatened when she pokes around inside my head. It doesn’t help.

  Her walls are painted a soft blue color, meant to convey tranquility. My heart pounds anyway. There’s a lot of personality in this room, unlike in the headmaster’s office, but every detail has been carefully chosen, even though it’s meant to look the opposite.

  “You’ve been through a lot lately so I thought it might be good to touch base and see how you’re processing.” She takes her seat and then settles in behind the thick, mahogany wood desk. Having that much mass between us should make her feel comfortable that I’m not in an aggressive mood. She already knows all about my personality from the test battery. I got back Intelligent, Complex, Artistic and Creative, which is the rarest of all types. Less than one percent of the population shares those traits. I’m guessing she thinks I might be a little unpredictable, because her lip twitches when she speaks.

  She wants to talk about my feelings? I resist the urge to ask about hers.

  “I’m sad and a little bit angry.” I feed into exactly what she wants to hear.

  “Can you dive a little deeper into that and tell me why?” she asks, with that understanding nod that makes me want to puke.

  “You think you know someone and then something bad happens and you find out you were wrong all along,” I say without hesitation. “The council has been so good to me, to my family, and I don’t understand how my brother can turn against them like that. And hurting innocents? Part of me is sad that he’s gone. I mean, it’s so permanent. But the other part realizes that he deserves what happened to him. Like, karma, you know?”

  It kills me on the inside to say those words out loud, let alone pretend like they’re true. I glance around the room while she takes notes.

  Dr. Sara picks up a stylus, leans back in her chair, and then puts the end of the black writing instrument in her mouth. “Why do you think he would do such a thing?”

  “He’s jealous, I guess.” I shrug. “I mean, we’re twins, and I was Selected for Easton, for a better life. He wasn’t. His IQ was too low. He’s always been competitive.”

  Dr. Sara nods, confirmation that I’m giving her what she wants to hear.

  “Good point,” she says. “It does seem that his anger came from someplace deep. He was lashing out. Wanting to punish the council and the program here.”

  “I don’t understand biting the hand that feeds you like that.” It’s a cliché but she totally buys it based on her knowing look. I don’t point out the fact that he wouldn’t kill himself to get back at the council.

  “What about your mother? Did she try to contact you before your birthday video?”

  I want to say that the school would be the first to find out.

  “No, ma’am.”

  One of her eyebrows shoots up. “We don’t have to be formal in this room, Victoria.”

  I make the mistake on purpose. If I answer everything in the way she expects, she’ll become suspicious. This way, her guard lowers.

  For the first time, I realize there’s something odd about the mirror on the wall next to us. The mirror hasn’t been hung on the wall at all but looks more set into the wall. There’s a f
rame around it, but it’s not an ordinary mirror.

  I look away so that I don’t draw attention to it. I shut my eyes and think about every detail of what I saw. There was something else peculiar about it. Some light appeared to be leaking through from the other side. And then it dawns on me what it is…a two-way mirror. I should’ve known. Is someone back there? Now? Looking at me? Studying me? Headmaster Davidson? Councilwoman Snyder?

  It wouldn’t surprise me.

  I open my eye. Dr. Sara is staring at me.

  “Sorry,” I say before continuing, “I’m guessing my brother was becoming a problem and she didn’t want me to worry. He must’ve been embarrassing her and that’s why she said he was skiing. He probably didn’t want to be part of the video and she made an excuse for him. It’s humiliating.”

  Dr. Sara compresses her lips in a frown and nods. Solidarity? With me? I doubt it. She’s Legacy. The woman hasn’t struggled a day in her life.

  “How have you been sleeping?” she asks in a tone of comradery. Let’s be real. She doesn’t know anything about my life, about growing up poor or living life under a microscope.

  “Actually, better than I thought I would.” I fold my hands in my lap. “I mean, they’re my family so don’t get me wrong I’m sad. But it didn’t have to be this way. It’s their choice.”

  “And what is your opinion about your brother’s decision?”

  “He chose wrong.” It’s the only thing I can say and yet the words are like acid on my tongue.

  Another nod and my blood boils. I say what I have to say. Every word is going back to the council. There’s a camera in the right-hand corner of the room with the blue light on.

  “I mean, am I being too hard on them? Maybe. But I think it’s important to take responsibility for your actions,” I state and I’m a little smug at this point for her benefit. Administrators expect smart kids to act a little self-congratulatory, so I play the part.

  “I think that’s a healthy attitude, Victoria.” Dr. Sara is satisfied. I can tell by her smirk. “It shows a lot of maturity on your part.”

  She pauses like she’s waiting for me to say something. But I’m done. Grandma used to tell me an old saying from her childhood, loose lips sink ships, so I put my hands in my lap and smile back at Dr. Sara.