I want to stay. For my family, and for me.
****
“So you have known about the monitoring for some time now?” the evil tester man, Mr. Alexander, is asking me what feels like hundreds of questions. We’ve been at this for almost a half an hour. Both testers are there as well as all three professors and Elle. The full Board of Directors. It is late in the afternoon and I’m getting hungry. I didn’t eat well all morning in nervousness for the panel.
“Yes,” I nod, giving simple yes and no answers to the questions.
“You seemed upset about it at first. Would you please explain?” he smiles and gestures for me to elaborate. He’s a ray of sunshine this time compared to the last time.
“I just felt lied to when I first found out, so initially I was angry. Then I thought of how some of the girls are and realized it might be necessary. There are girls here who are angels to you fine folk, but to the other girls are downright barbaric. I realize it might be needed in order to see someone’s true colors. I just wish it didn’t have to be all the time. Every time I go to sleep, I go to sleep knowing that someone somewhere has me on a screen watching me. It’s just not at all what I’m used to and seems a bit…creepy.” I shrug.
“Your performance on the lie detector test was the fastest and placed you second among all the girls. How did you figure out the test within the test?” He almost smiles.
Second? My freak show and temper tantrum?
“Wow. I had no idea.” I shake my head before I continue, “I guess I’m just good at reading people. When I insulted Elle she looked upset even though it was my brother in there. There was no guilt. No remorse. Then you, sir, looked quite amused at one point. I knew those wouldn’t be the emotions or reactions if it were real. Plus, the timing of it all. Why would you take that moment to tell me my brother was a supposed traitor? Why during a test? It just didn’t add up. Unfortunately, I just didn’t connect the dots that his getting beat up was also staged and not real.”
This time it’s Elle who speaks. “The manner in which you handle yourself has impressed many of the Culling directors albeit sometimes you are brash and blunt. You helped form a little family out of the group of girls you sit with, which is something we look for in a Madam President, a motherly or family minded woman. But, there are also times you just care about others too much. Mentally, you are tough enough for this. Your intellect and basic reasoning are astounding. Emotionally, we are not yet totally sure. And yes, you are young so that is part of it, but you seem to be loyal to a fault sometimes. Predictably so. And your temper can get the best of you.”
I catch and hold my breath thinking this is the point when she sends me home, second on the lie detector test or not. Maybe being so young is even cause enough for them to give me the boot.
Professor Zax runs a hand over his moustache before he begins speaking, “You are a very intelligent and perceptive young lady. With your scores and current ranking, we have no problem moving you on to the next round. Congratulations, Reagan Scott. You are going to the Candidatorial Ball.”
I immediately grin and let out the breath I have been holding.
I am going to the ball!
“May I?” Professor Dougall, whom I think doesn’t really like me, looks at the others seeking approval. She gets a nod from the evil tester man, I mean Mr. Alexander.
“Ms. Scott, you’re very much a frontrunner in this and it is time you start acting as such. The only thing I am truly concerned with is not your knowledge of silverware placing, but rather your own self-confidence. You need to know that you can do this and you need to start acting as such. You have amazing gut instincts. Trust them.” She smiles with an affection I have never seen before. More than once she has singled me out in class much to Marisol’s amusement.
“A…a frontrunner?” I stammer in shock. I was just sure I might be going home a few seconds ago.
“Of course we cannot disclose to you your ranking throughout this process, but know that it has always been quite high,” Elle nods. “Your lie detector test only confirmed that.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say, looking at each of them in the eyes. “I don’t want to let you down. I will try to work on my emotions and my temper. I will do my best.”
“Of that, we have no doubt.” Mr. Winters smiles with a nod.
Down the hallway, I can’t help but do a little dance in front of an amused Jamie.
“I made it!” I whisper to him, “I’m going to the ball!”
Ready or not, I’m going to meet the boys!
Chapter 7
After eating in my room again since all our meals today are to be in our rooms as the panel is going on, I decide to see if Marcia is back yet. I open up the door and greet Sarge and we walk down to her room. Her guard isn’t there so I know that she isn’t either.
Feeling restless, tired from the week but still excited for the boys, I change into my pajamas and read and journal a little before there is a knock on my door. I run to it knowing that only one person would knock on my door at this time. I have a huge smile on my face as I swing open the door only to completely lose it in surprise.
“Darrrrrling!” a skinny little man wearing thick rimmed glasses greets me. “I am to be your attendant. Now, let me in and let’s see what we can do. I know some attendants are waiting for tomorrow, but not me. You have Stephen Frank as your attendant and Stephen Frank does not lose or waste time.” He bows down before me and gestures with his hand.
“Lovely to meet you,” I say, regaining my composure at his not being Marcia. I’m sure I look completely shocked and confused.
“Now let’s have a looksee at you. My assistant will be joining me in the morning.” He has me stand in front of my mirror and turn around slowly.
“A short, curvy little thing. I can definitely work with this,” he says thinking out loud to himself as he starts to ramble, “Your legs are absolutely fabulous and will look even more so in heels. Your eyes are a perfect mixture of green and those specs of honey are just lovely. But, the torso is so very short. So nothing poufy or you will look like an elf. Oh. Your feet are amazing. You would be surprised how often ugly feet can ruin an outfit or pair of strappy sandals. I love the hair.”
He stops only to gesture. When his mouth isn’t running, his hands are. “We need to keep that natural wave and add some more curls to it. Face is a little mousey but pretty nonetheless.” He stops and walks forward. “What is this?” he asks, pointing to my eyes. “Dark circles under the eyes? No, no, no, my dear. That will not do. You have a ball tomorrow night. I’m going to order your breakfast delivered in tomorrow morning at nine. You are to sleep until nine. Sleep until I am here. Do not go anywhere. Do you understand?”
I manage to nod and add, “Okay.”
I’m somewhat amused with this character of a man. I can’t help the dark circles though. When you are a part of a process like this, you are bound to experience a little stress. But his enthusiasm and the seriousness with which he takes his job are amusing.
“Now. What color did you wear at the etiquette test the other night?” he continues on, flipping open a small notebook the size of his hand and starting to scribble. I wonder how long he will be here.
“The emerald green.”
“Ohhh. Not only do I have a lovely candidate, but I have one with brains. Excellent choice, my dear.” He smiles affectionately and I can’t help but think that although he was just totally critiquing my body, I am going to have a hard time not completely loving this fellow.
“Now. Most girls will be wearing a shade of white like a wedding gown or a bold shade of red or something like that to draw the attention of the boys. I am going to draw their attention also, but you will not be wearing white or red.” I raise my eyebrows intrigued as he continues. “Most of the time I would say a purple or a blue, perhaps something of a silky material. Soft and inviting, like your eyes. This time though we are going to go bold and daring. I would like to put you in black. Nothing too
sexy. You aren’t on your honeymoon yet, my dear,” he chuckles at himself and blushes, “But definitely something that accentuates your assets. What do you think?” He bounces his eyebrows. I can clearly see that he loves his job. He can barely stand still he is so excited.
“I think whatever you say is best. I’m really not that good at it. Black seems a bit morbid, but if you can make it work, I’m all for it. I don’t want to look like all the other girls. So I’ll trust you,” I nod.
“Ahhh. Yes. You and I will get along just fine. I’m leaving you now. My assistant and I will be here at 9 am sharp. I will have your breakfast with me. Sleep. Sleep, darling! You need it!” He rubs my arm, gives me a side hug, and leaves just as quickly as he came.
Standing at the door trying not to snort out a laugh as he quickly turns down the hallway and heads for the elevator, I ask Sarge, “Is he for real?”
Sarge smiles back, “He definitely is.” Then he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other as if he needs to tell me something.
“What is it?” I ask, trying to read him. He looks a little worried. Whatever he’s about to say I’m not going to like.
“While you are at the ball tomorrow evening, your room will be moved to a different floor,” he says almost sad.
“Well do I still get my bed?” I smile but he isn’t smiling in return.
What’s the deal? What is he really trying to tell me here? If it were just the rooms he wouldn’t be acting like this. Like he is about to deliver bad news.
“Yes. The…uh…the only reason it’s necessary, is because you are the only girl left on this floor.” He reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder.
I feel my heart skip a beat. Marcia. He’s trying to tell me that Marcia is gone? Less than 24 hours ago we were laughing and joking about the boys and the ball. I hold onto the door frame or I’m going to fall over.
I will never see her again?
Sarge grabs my arm in one hand and holds tightly onto my watch with the other. “I thought you’d want to know as soon as I knew,” he whispers. “Before you got to breakfast or the ball and she was just gone. I didn’t want it to ruin tomorrow for you.”
“Thank you,” I manage to whisper back.
At this point the tears start falling. I feel horrible. There I was enjoying my success. Enjoying making it to the next round and getting an attendant. I was looking forward to meeting the boys. Marcia won’t be going. She won’t be there. I never got to say goodbye. And what about her project? How could she make it this far just to go home right before another big milestone? Her family was so close to having another promotion, and I know with there being six of them, it was important to her. We got so close in such a short amount of time and now she’s just gone? Just like that? And I’ll never see her again? She’s just…gone. Forever.
“Can I get you something from downstairs to help? Tea? A brownie? You know I hate crying and I would hug you if I could.” He is still holding onto my arm to steady me.
I have tea in the fridge and am not in a brownie mood without Marcia to eat them with. What do I need? I need to get out of here a moment. My room feels like a jail cell again. I feel like I’m getting claustrophobic. I need to move. I need to walk. I need…..air.
“Yes, there is something you can do. Maybe. I need fresh air. I haven’t had fresh air in days. If I don’t get outside soon, I’m going to freak out. The thought of going back into my room, on an empty floor without my best friend sounds horrible. Will that look bad? Will I fail some stupid test I’m not aware of?” I blurt out as I sniffle the tears away. “Can I go outside for just a few minutes?”
“I’m not sure if we’re supposed to, but we’ll do it anyway. You will need a coat and shoes though,” he smiles supportively.
I quickly grab my coat, slip on my bright neon pink slippers, and try to dry my eyes. We go down the elevator and when the door opens, we immediately weave through people, dodging them left and right until Sarge stops at a communications center of sorts.
“Wha--” the man starts to say to him before Sarge cuts him off.
“We’re going outside. She’s on the verge of a panic attack and needs air.” With that, he grabs me by the arm and we walk towards the door. He leans in close to me and whispers, “Don’t worry. I just said what I had to say to get you outside. You shouldn’t be in trouble of any sorts or docked for anything.”
“You need that approved. You need more men!” the man yells after us.
“So get them,” Sarge says as we walk out of the door into glorious, fresh, crisp, cold autumn air. I couldn’t love him more for getting me outside, all the rules be damned.
Outside, I feel much better. A panic attack might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but if it allowed me outside, I’m cool with it. I find a bench on the path about 100 or so yards from the building. I look up at the stars and immediately feel better. The cool air on my face feels amazing. I will miss Marcia more than she knows, but I know she wouldn’t want me to throw a fit. She would want me to kick butt in this stupid game we call the Culling.
Two more guards come outside and stand beside Sarge keeping watch. I greet them both and ask one, “Is it really necessary for so many guards to be on one person?”
“Yes,” he replies, looking strict and annoyed.
“Why?” I ask somewhat rude. Hearing and watching my every move isn’t enough?
“You could be the next Madam President. Our country cannot afford to lose you and so we take every precaution necessary to keep you safe at all times.” He doesn’t seem too happy about being here. That’s my bad.
“That makes sense but this isn’t like the days before Trident. No one is threatening my life or anything.” I watch them look uncomfortable after my statement and I realize I have come across something that I shouldn’t have.
Interesting.
I look Sarge in the eyes and his look seems to tell me to let it be.
I sigh. “Just five more minutes please, guys. I have to try to find some shapes in the star constellations. It’s an Omaha thing. See that moose over there?” I map it out for them as a joke and everyone seems to be relieved I have dropped the topic. The one I was rude to even looks somewhat entertained.
Who is threatening me? I know it can’t be me specifically, but someone is threatening the President or the Culling members. Why? All three of them were uncomfortable with what I said. It can’t be coincidence. Is that what Julia discovered? My gut tells me it has to be related. There’s just something going on here that’s more than what meets the eye. More than just being monitored. I just know it.
As I look up at the stars, I feel much better knowing Marcia, Agnes, and Cadence are all actually safe from whatever is going on here. I trust Sarge and Jamie literally with my life, but I still feel better knowing that my friends are safe at home. A movement interrupts my thoughts and I tense up.
“Ms. Scott?” Sarge asks worried. He knows me well enough to pick up on my body language right away.
I see a figure on top of the roof of the building just standing there as if they are watching us. This could be a perpetrator, but he isn’t threatening at all, he just stands there with his arms on the ledge. Not a stance a guard would have either. The person is so far up there that I can’t see much other than their outline.
I wave two fingers at whomever it is, wondering if they are in fact watching us, while I say to Sarge, “There is someone on the roof. I didn’t know we could go up there.”
“You can’t,” he says in return, smiling because he knows I will ask why.
“Why not?” I ask. If the other two weren’t here he would have just told me why not in the first place.
“The roof is part of the Presidential Quarters,” he informs me.
“You mean I just waved at the President? And not a graceful or beautiful wave either. It was a ‘hey, dude, what’s up?’ sort of wave,” I blurt out embarrassed and one of the extra guards chuckles. “Dougall would kill me.”
“I
t could be someone else in the President’s quarters,” Sarge shrugs trying to make me feel better but it makes me feel worse.
Oh gosh. That could have been Henry. My fun is over. I’m ready to go back inside now. I may have just messed up with the boys and I haven’t even officially met any of them yet.
“Let’s go inside before I make a bigger fool of myself, shall we?” I sigh, wondering who I waved at.
I would almost rather it be the President than Henry. Dressed in pajamas, slippers, and a coat isn’t exactly how I envisioned meeting him. Nothing screams “romance” or “date me” like my current attire. I can’t even relax out here in the fresh air under the stars where I usually feel the most at ease. Please, oh please, let that have been the President I just waved awkwardly to. Fortunately, I’m so far away, whoever it was shouldn’t recognize me. Or I can only hope.
Way to go, Reagan. Way to be.
****
At exactly nine the next morning, Mr. Stephen Frank knocks at my door wearing the same thick framed glasses. I open the door to find him and a woman of about the same age with him and a cart with my breakfast. He is wearing a color of blue I have never seen in a suit before. It’s almost teal, almost baby blue. He has a white dress shirt on underneath. His assistant has her gray hair short and spiked to the side and is wearing a purple velvety suit matching him. Together, they are quite the pair. I have never seen clothes like the ones they are wearing. Eccentric would be a good word to describe them.
“Good morning, Mr. Frank,” I smile, looking the two of them over and wondering if I got the best attendants or the worst.
“Good morning. Darling, this is my personal assistant Gertrude. We all call her Gertie. And everyone calls me by my last name of Frank. Stephen is also my father’s name, so I’ve always gone by my last name instead.”
The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) Page 15
