by Farah Cook
We’re part of the Triangle of Peace, which is our new world. The sovereign Lumini Lords and the monarchy control all three divisions – East, West and North – each with their own set of laws. No one likes Lumini Lords, they’re said to be evil lords possessed by greed for power and wealth, and the monarchy is merely a passive and commercial empire submissive to the will of the Supreme Republic.
The East is a docile division, and here we live in peace and practice under the Judith Law. The North division is known for its “wise” people and lives by the principles of wisdom from the Togus Law. The West, of course, controls everything, and the Supreme Republic exercises Lumini Law, which is above all law.
I take the clothes my mom has given me. The fresh smell sits between the layers. I smack my bare feet hard on the board of the tent floor and walk toward the cracked piece of mirror that stands opposite a broken clothing rail. I look at the reflection of my bare body, which looks nothing like my mom’s. In fact, I don’t resemble her in any way, and wonder why that is. I’m skinny and pale.
I push my limbs into my clothes. I have a limited choice when it comes to clothing. Nothing I have is ever truly mine except for a few belongings I keep hidden under my mat – one of these a picture of my dad, which I occasionally take out to remind myself he’s real and not some fantasy figure. He went missing in the Forbidden Areas when I was still a baby. He was an impressive Elite Raider from the West people tell me, but I have no recollection of him, and my mom never speaks of him.
I look just like him – tall, platinum blond straight hair, pallid skin and big emerald green eyes. Sometimes I wonder if he’s still alive . . .
The path that leads to the community school is muddier than usual. The fresh rain left a sludgy trail. I wade through the thick black mud, which makes a sucking noise as I pull my feet out of each deep spot. After walking for two miles my shoes are coated in filth, but the cool mud feels refreshing against my feet. It is not the first time this has happened. I have been walking this trail for the past eight years, but today is the last day.
When I reach the school, I look up at the square red building and, all the memories, good and bad, begin to flicker through my head. It was here that I met Gustav for the first time at the age of seven. He’d always stand by my side and defend me when the other kids bullied me. We’ve been friends ever since.
Maybe it was my dramatic appearance, as I look nothing like anyone else in the East division – or perhaps it was my cold attitude. I’m not exactly the emotional type, and don’t conceal it either. Most of the people from the East are known to be warm and emotional like Gustav.
I try hard to be sympathetic, but I fail most of the time. In school, when we would be told sad stories or hear of other tragic incidents, some would cry while others would hang their heads between their knees to hide their overwhelming reaction. I never did. I’m just not that easily affected by my emotions like everyone else.
One of the boys in my class, Flemming, is particularly sensitive. Pretty much anything makes him cry. He hates me, I think. Perhaps because I didn’t feel as upset as he did when we once saw a cat walk into our schoolyard with a dead mouse crushed between its jaws. He began screaming hysterically. All I could shout was, “SHUT UP,” After a while he toned down his howling. His puffy red face normalized and he pointed his small fat finger toward me and squeaked out: “Nora is a cold-hearted girl.”
Like it’s some kind of sin. Maybe he’s right, maybe I am cold-hearted, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any feelings. I have plenty. I just don’t share them easily with anyone. Not even Gustav. That’s just how I am.
Gustav sits among the crowd of the other indifferent sixteen year olds. He motions for me to join him as he pulls back his short black frizzy hair from his glowing brown forehead, which springs back in layers to its rightful position. The twig droops from his dry mouth, as I sit next to him on the moist grass. Twenty-five of us graduate today, and no one carries any tension. They don’t appear to be nervous about the recruitment assessment this afternoon. Maybe nothing will change much for any of us anyway.
The ceremony is a utopian gathering, outside in the green school field, and the principal starts his speech on the tenets of peace, love and respect. He elatedly recites sentences from the Judith Law to emphasize our core beliefs – humility and humbleness. I hear the proud words leave his lips.
Don’t think you are anything special.
Don’t think you are good at anything.
Don’t think you are better than others.
As he carries on with his speech I look around the crowd, and at Gustav. I’m the only one among them who looks different. Our collectivist commandments generally have the effect of keeping anyone from sticking out of the pack. Those who boast or attempt to raise themselves above any group in our community would be ridiculed.
Well, I do stick out of the pack. I always achieve and win, whatever I set out to do. I’ve kept my abilities hidden for so long now that I’m not sure what I’m capable of anymore. I am also the only one who is a blend of East and West. Though the East is not visible in me, it floats in my veins, and I proudly carry the tattooed symbol of our division on my wrist – two interlacing triangles in a circle symbolizing peace, perseverance and freedom.
The birth tattoo on my back is different – a mystic ancient-looking symbol of a tree with nine interlacing circles – another thing my mom never talks to me about. The tree speaks to me. I believe it's the reason for my premonitions.
When I was younger, some of the older, cooler, meaner girls would push, hit and spit at me and call me names. “Peculiar girl,” they’d say. Once they ambushed me on my way home from school with their arms tightly folded or their hands on their hips, and demanded to know if I was wearing makeup. I couldn’t stammer out a single word as my brain was scrambled to pieces. What on earth is makeup?
One of the taller girls stepped out of the group and held my head while vigorously rubbing my eyes. It was a painful experience and the thought of it still gives me the shivers.
I didn’t struggle or protest, but I should have. I let her rub my eyes and face red. Still not satisfied, they dragged me to the riverbank, pushed me into the water and forced me to wash my face. Seeing me dripping wet like a shivering puppy, they were somehow finally convinced that I wasn’t wearing any makeup. I was just a kid that played with rocks, sticks and dirt, and lived in one of the communal tents with my mom. I had nothing special about me.
As I grew up I stopped covering my pallid skin in mud to look like the others. The night crying stopped, too. I have accepted that I am simply different and don’t question the rare things I see, like my premonitions. I’m afraid to discover what I can do aside from always winning.
No matter what, in the East division I will always stick out from the pack. I still get the odd looks and questions about my dad. My mom didn’t reveal much about him, and I guess that’s why I distance myself from her. She’s hiding something from me about his past and about the tattoo I carry on my back. I can sense it. She’s afraid of telling me too much, and I think she knows what I’m capable of.
After the speech, we all get to shake the principal’s hand while we’re given a piece of paper with our merits on it. He’s a tall man with long brown hair and a beard. Like a broken record, he repeats, “Congratulations,” to each of us. All the wilderness field trips we were forced to do as part of our practical training are over. I still remember my first one at the age of eleven.
I had to remove the entrails of a dead deer and sink the carcass in the river, weighing it down with rocks and gravel. The cold, dead look from the animal staring at me is something I will never forget. The others don’t dare kill or touch most animals so I was the only one in my class who volunteered without hesitating to cut it open along the center of its abdomen. Its warm, thick blood soaked my hands, and when I accidently cut through the bowels, the excrement splattered everywhere. The smell was awful and made all the others in my class e
ither shriek or vomit. But I didn’t do either. I just covered my nose and mouth and finished the task.
I face the school principal, Leif. He smiles at me.
“For all these years, I’ve seen you I always wondered…” he looks curiously at me now, as if there’s a burning question he’s been waiting all these years to ask me and this is the moment.
“What did you wonder Principal Leif?” I ask inquisitively.
“Will you be a famous Raider like your father – a legend from the Jarls Dynasty? I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the world would know your name.” I look at him with my emerald eyes. Over the past eight years he has never said a single word to me, and then he says this. I don’t know what to say, so I shrug.
“All the best for the recruitment assessment this afternoon Nora Hunt.” He hands me a piece of paper with my merits on it.
“Thank you,” I say and walk away. The paper clutched to my chest, one thought haunts me. I’m prepared for the recruitment assessment, but I’m also afraid what it may reveal.
2
FIVE LARGE TENTS are set up for the recruitment assessment in the green field outside the schoolyard. We all stand there waiting in a straight line. Everyone is deadly silent. The sky is dark and air thick. The others whisper and chatter in low voices. But I block them out of my head.
My other senses are heightened and I hear the change in the weather, the movement in the sky, the heavy rainclouds gathering. Small drops of rain begin to prickle my skin and within minutes the entire field turns wet and muddy.
None of us move for a while, but Sasha who is standing next to me gets pushed from behind and smashes into me hard, so I lose my balance in the line and splash into the drenched grass. My clothes are instantly covered in black mud. I hear quiet laughter from the back while I press my palms into the squelching bog and pull myself up.
Gustav skips the queue from behind to help me, distress painted all over his face. He’s pleading with me to look past this incident. It is not the first time someone has deliberately pushed me over.
The heavy rain washes the mud off my hands and I dry them on my black jeans, and then turn my frosty glare toward Lisa, one of the heavier girls, who is standing in the middle. She looks at me with a sullen face and grimaces. She has always had a problem with me. I’ve never got into a fight with her, but this time something tells me I shouldn’t look past her bullying. I wrinkle my nose and twist my mouth before I take a step forward in Lisa’s direction, but Gustav holds me back, pulling my arm.
“Don’t, Nora,” he says.
The rain pours down heavily. I squeeze my eyes hard together and feel the anger build up. I can’t suppress it. Not this time. I release my arm from Gustav’s firm grip and confront Lisa. She’s a big girl, a head taller than me, with a round puffy face. Her short, wide neck forms deep lines that circle above her shoulders. She flares her big wide nostrils and glares at me like she wants to cut me into pieces.
She might – a person like me doesn’t stand a chance with someone her size. But I’m not afraid of her, not anymore. I should have stood up for myself years ago. I’m not the only one lacking mercy and kindness in this division.
I clench my fists together hard and before I know it Lisa’s big heavy hand lands on my face. I feel the dramatic imprint shake my head, and I slump to the ground. She kneels on my chest and I gasp for air. All the others gather around me in a circle and shout.
“Get the peculiar girl.”
Gustav wants to help me, but they push him away, and his shouts muffle. I lie curled up on the muddy ground as I listen to their taunts growing louder.
“Get Nora! Get her! Get her!”
I gather myself from the mud pit, roar loudly, smash my head into Lisa’s chest and take her down with me, rolling her deformed flabby body in the dirty grass. Just as I manage to gain control by sitting on top of her, I hear a familiar voice yelling at me.
“Nora Hunt. Stop this instant!”
I drop my fist, raise my head and freeze in mid motion. Lisa gets up and shoves me over so I land back in the mud pit. Her grim face shows no emotion. Not a flicker. Her expression stays hollow, while the rain pours down her face. I stand up, confronting the teacher who has interrupted us, Miss Celia. The cool rain sooths my face, but I still feel the burning red mark from Lisa’s slap on my cheek.
“Nora, come with me,” says Miss Celia.
I follow her, breaking the circle that has formed around me, and walk into the main school building, soaked and shivering. I turn around to see Gustav and the disappointment on his face.
“Clean yourself up and wait for me here,” demands Miss Celia. She hands me a bunch of paper towels and I wipe my face clean. My nose is dripping blood. It doesn’t bother me. It never really has. I’ve stopped releasing my anger and frustration through tears, because it doesn’t bring me anything.
I wait in the long, empty hall, but Miss Celia doesn’t show up. Through the small square windows across the room I notice the rain has stopped. I peel myself off the bench and step outside the building. Ten tall, heavy men walk across the wet fields, all of them dressed in black suits. They can only be the recruiters. No one in our division dresses that way. Their faces are stony and their eyes tucked behind large shades, but there’s little sun in this division. The sky is always dim and gray – sunlight is scarce. Even the slightest sun we get here turns my pale, paper-thin, sensitive skin to a burning red.
Miss Celia approaches me from behind and puts her hand gently on my shoulder. I feel her warm breath against my neck.
“Nora?”
I turn around and look her straight in the eyes. I know what she’s about to say. Her words never change. I close my eyes and go through the exact words she’s going to spill out. When in doubt always choose kindness and compassion over anger and resentment. The purpose of our community is to help and not harm each other.
“Nora, are you listening to me?”
“Yes. I hear every word,” I say gruffly.
For a short moment she doesn’t know what to say. She furrows her brow and gives me an exasperated expression.
“You need to go in last,” she says. “It’s better that way.”
I bite my tongue and lower my gaze so she doesn’t read what’s really on my mind. Going in last for the assessment is not an issue. It’s the fact that she’s yet again ignoring the bullying I’ve been subjected to for the past eight years. I duck my head and drag my frail body back into the building. I take a seat on the wet bench, and a puddle forms underneath. I kick my dirty shoes off to dip my toes into the puddle. “This is going to be a long night,” I sigh.
When I finally leave the school building, the sky is dark and the stars are twinkling. Everyone else has left, and I wonder what Gustav's allocation was. He’s altruistic and would make a good healer. His innate ability to care for people has always been strong. He’d stich me up, after our wilderness trip. He’d always say that I heal unusually fast.
I stand in front of one of the tents and wait. I try not to fidget. Instead I nervously slide my sweaty palms up and down my sticky jeans. I look a mess. My wiry hair is damp and knotted, my clothes covered in dry mud patches. I try not to let the incident with Lisa bother me. My mind wanders off to contemplate something it’s never considered before. Revenge.
One of the recruiters emerges from the tent and approaches me. He stands with a rigid posture, his spine looks like a metal pole and his shoulders are broad. He lowers his firmly fitted black sunglasses, and his clear blue eyes become visible. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares. His skin is a beautiful bronze color, and his hair honey-blond. He begins to breathe loudly, and then mutters something in a thick West division dialect.
“The last girl is here,” he shouts. “She doesn’t look native.” Or at least I think he says that, from my limited knowledge of the Western dialect. In school it’s mandatory to learn the dialect of the other divisions. But I was never interested in learning anything aside from Natur
al History and outdoor subjects. Learning somehow always came too easy for me. I didn’t even try, but I’m not proud to admit that I slept through most classes.
The recruiter beckons for me to follow him and I walk behind him into the tent. It’s empty, dim and cold, with hardly any light coming from the lanterns. Another person is hiding behind his shades, sitting by a long, empty table. He could be the other guy’s identical twin. Still no words are exchanged. The man behind the table motions for me to take a seat in front of him. He takes off his black sunglasses and glances down at his protocol.
“Nora Hunt?” he says, and stares at me like I’m a murder suspect.
“Yes,” I say crisply.
“I’m Lars,” he says dully. “Forty-nine straight wins in the chasing game. How do you explain that?” he asks shooting me a questioning look.
“I like to win,” I blurt out. I’ve just paraded my achievements. Something I’ve never done before. I don’t want him to think that I believe I’m better than the others in my class, but it’s impossible not to detect that from my merits.
“What happened today?” asks Lars, keeping his stare clamped on me. I don’t say anything. I shrug and turn my face away from him. He throws another sharp question in my direction.
“Why didn’t you win the final game, Nora?” His tone is stiff, like his attitude.
I think of Gustav and his ever sympathetic and kind heart. I let him win today to convince myself that I can follow our virtues. I, too, can be kind and merciful if I want to like everyone else in the East. I didn’t have to win the final chasing game, but most of the time I can’t help feeling the constant urge to prove my worth. I am stronger, faster and better than the others – a truth I’ve failed to keep concealed.
That’s not the only thing I’m trying to hide. The day I returned after losing consciousness in the wilderness I discovered that my peculiarity wasn’t random, but something that was bestowed upon me – rare powers that I have no control over. I don’t want anyone to know, especially because I’m still learning myself.
