As he leaves after getting me laughing again, I think that if this really is just a competition, Trent is so charismatic and smart he might just win the whole darn thing.
****
Tuesday morning, Joshua and two girls from Seattle, Sophina and Melissa, are gone. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to know Sophina and Melissa that well, but I was always nice and polite to them since they came from the same township as Marcia. I do remember Joshua well though, Mr. Explosive. I remember his input on our group project and that he didn’t hesitate to defend me. If I could have, I would’ve told him I wish him all the best.
Joshua leaving does make me a little skittish about who else is going to go next. If someone like him can go, who is really safe? I feel like everywhere we go, if anyone walks into a room even a little late, people are wondering if they are cut. We are all extremely excited for Friday, but at the same time, we are just ducks on water while we wait. Calm above the surface and anything but beneath it. Ten more people or so will be leaving before Friday after all.
“Two quick announcements, ladies.” Professor Dougall begins class and snaps me out of my reprieve. “The first of which is somewhat important and you need to take seriously. President Maxwell and a dozen or so of the cabinet members along with their families will be in attendance at the ball Friday. I assume I don’t need to remind you to use your manners. Remember that these people will be voting for you.
“The second, and more excitable matter at hand, is that in honor of the old holiday of Halloween, Friday’s ball will be a masquerade ball. This means your attendants can make you custom made gowns with matching headpieces.” She smiles.
Some girls get excited but most of us have no flipping idea what she is talking about. What was Halloween and what in the world is a masquerade? I’ve heard both words before, but I have no idea what she is trying to tell us. I can tell by her rare good mood and excitement that we are supposed to like this. This is good news, I guess.
“Oh, good heavens. Okay, backtrack.” She laughs. “So Halloween used to be a holiday supposedly celebrating witchcraft and the like, but really little kids dressed up in costumes and went door to door trick-or-treating for candy. At the end of the night, they would have a bunch of candy that would last them for days. This holiday used to be the last day of October, and since we are about halfway through October, we have decided it would be a fun thing to incorporate into a theme for this ball.”
I vaguely remember something like this when we learned about all the pre-Trident holidays in junior high. That must be where I’ve heard the word before.
“So a masquerade then is a kind of a dance with costumes, the key ingredient being masks.” She pauses and hits some buttons on her computer pulling up some pictures on the big screen behind her. “Here are examples of masks. It isn’t like you won’t know who people are; it’s just a fun way to have a theme for the ball. You may also choose to coordinate your attire and/or mask with your date if you wish.”
Now fully understanding what she is talking about, we are now whispering amongst ourselves in excitement. They look a little silly, but with everyone doing it, it might be kind of cool. It’s different nonetheless. It will be a nice, fun way to liven up the seriousness of having more cabinet members joining us.
“I can tell you are excited now that you understand.” She laughs again. “Before I dismiss you to go discuss ideas with your attendants waiting in your rooms, I need to remind you that with more people, there comes more responsibility. This is the first chance you have to make an impression on the President’s cabinet members. These are very important people. Don’t mess it up.”
That seems to knock the wind out of my sails a little, but I quickly leave along with the rest of the girls, wanting to figure out what Frank will have me wear and what this mask business is all about. I’m dreading the whole coordinating attire thing.
Who is my date again, anyway?
****
“So, my dear. Let’s talk gowns, color first, and then we will go from there.” Frank paces my room, tossing ideas out to Gertie, who is sitting on the chair with a huge book of pictures of gowns. He stops for a moment. “This is the most important dress you have worn yet,” he says with emphasis and gestures wildly with his hands before continuing mumbling as he paces.
I take off my heels and rub my feet before setting them on the coffee table as I wait for his mumbling to stop. It always does and then what he has to say is usually profound. You just have to give the madman time to work it out.
“So I’m thinking forest or emerald.” Frank stops pacing and turns to me. Gertie flips to a picture of a gorgeous gown and shows it to me.
I think of Henry’s smooth emerald green eyes and falter just a second. The dress is the exact color of his eyes.
Never missing anything, Frank hesitates. “No? I guess you already did wear a form of emerald. My second choice is a deep blue. How about this?”
I look at the dress. Although it doesn’t have brown undertones like Lyncoln’s eyes, it’s darn close to the main color of them. I lean my head against the couch and my head touches the wall behind me. I know that no one will understand that my dress and their eye color matches, but I will know and it will drive me bonkers. It will be like I have silently chosen one and slighted the other. I’m nowhere near ready to make a choice like that. And I must be off my rocker if I look at dress colors and immediately think of the colors of their eyes.
Who does that?
Someone not emotionally stable, that’s who. Dang hormones.
“Reagan? Dear? What is it? Just tell us,” Gertie shushes Frank who’s mumbling on some more and flipping through the big book placed in her lap.
“Emerald is the color of Henry’s eyes. Blue is Lyncoln’s. I realize it may be silly and no one will know, but I can’t pick one over the other yet. I’m just not ready.” I sigh feeling exhausted. “Dougall mentioned we can match our dates, so I guess I’m just a bit panicked about matching either of them. Eye color or otherwise.”
I haven’t slept well lately as I’ve been having nightmares I’m told I have to leave and never get to say goodbye to either Henry or Lyncoln. Then when I do see them next, they are with Marisol and Sapphire and barely remember me. Silly dreams, but freakish.
“Ahhh. Not silly at all now that I know, my dear.” Frank sits beside me and squeezes my shoulder. He looks at me for a moment then looks at Gertie. “Gertie! Get me my drawing pad from my bag. Quick!” he demands and then is back up walking and mumbling again.
When Gertie hands him his drawing pad and colored pencils, he sits down right away and gets to work. Gertie and I know to just be quiet and let him be. He is in his creative zone right now.
“My dear, you have just given me the best idea for a dress ever. It will be a custom job. The shop will kill me, but this is going to be one legendary dress. You will have your blue and you will have your emerald,” he says excitedly, pencils flying across the paper while he speaks.
He shows me the picture a few short minutes later, and although it’s in pencil, I’m pleasantly surprised. The top of the gown will hug my chest, and with the depth of Frank’s shading I can tell there will be something eye-catching and sparkly. The dress starts in a deep blue at the top and fades into an emerald color by the time it brushes the floor. More sparkles trace one of my hips and cascade down to the floor next to the slit up the leg.
“This is amazing, Frank. I can’t wait to see it,” I say nodding then add, “Thank you for taking my feelings into consideration instead of chalking it up to my being a silly girl, even though that is exactly what I am being.”
“You are many, many things, Ms. Scott, but silly is not one of them,” Frank says softly and then slaps his hands together making me jump. “I’m heading to the shop right now to get to work on this tonight, before any other orders come in. I have an idea for your mask also, which will match the sequins in your dress instead of either color. Gertie, run her a bath. I want her to take a bu
tter-bath twice a day all this week in preparation for the ball.”
He is turning to leave as I joke, “So I guess you guys think I’ll make it to Friday then?”
“Oh honey, you have it in the bag,” Gertie laughs while Frank nods exaggeratedly.
****
Frank didn’t return the next morning because he was “on gown duty” as Gertie put it. Gertie helped me get into a skirt and blouse combination that seems to be my go-to outfit. This time it’s a hot pink skirt with a black v-neck blouse tucked in. Sometimes I am dressed totally elegantly, and sometimes it’s a bit fun and out there. I love days like this where it’s something different.
Jamie leads me down for breakfast and I’m a bit worried. Who will be missing today? Is today the day they destroy my hopes and dreams and send me packing? Jamie gives me a squeeze of encouragement around my shoulders as if understanding my unease.
I walk into the cafeteria to find everyone talking and conversing. I quickly grab some food and take my spot between Henry and Lyncoln, extremely happy to see them both though I knew they probably weren’t going anywhere.
Lyncoln eyes my hot pink skirt and raises his eyebrows at me. I blush.
“What’s all the chatter about?” I ask, feeling like I’m the last one here.
“Well, they sent home six people last night. SIX!” Attie says astounded.
“Anyone we know?” I ask, looking around. Obviously, Henry and Lyncoln are beside me so I can selfishly say that that was really all I was worried about. Attie is here. Elizabeth and Maverick are here. Vanessa is here. Who is missing? I look around to the spot where Benjamin is sitting. I spot him and let out a breath of relief. Even he is still here.
“Adam, Stephen, Emily, Savannah, Ellie, and Charlotte,” Attie names off. I would venture to say Attie probably even knows everyone’s middle names in addition to first and last names and townships. She just pays attention to details like that.
“Another bad day for Vegas.” I shake my head. “Sorry, girl.”
“That’s okay. I will miss Savannah though. She’s quiet but genius.” She shrugs then adds, “But I’m glad we are all still here and avoided another cut.” She looks to Knox and smiles, and I know she is even most glad he is still here.
He smiles at her from where he is sitting, in his new usual spot across from her, and in a rare moment of spontaneity he says, “They would have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming. Are you kidding me? If I left you before this ball, you would come all the way to Galveston just to kick my butt.”
We all laugh, knowing that it sounds exactly like something Attie would do. She blushes but laughs too and I’m glad my friend has found someone who makes her feel special. Everyone seems to be coupling up in our group. Oliver is still a part of our group but sits farther down in pursuit of Isabella. They seem to have hit it off since paintball. Vanessa and Bronson aren’t a couple but sit together often though sometimes he sits with Haley too. And, of course, Maverick and Elizabeth are a deliriously happy and perfect couple.
And then there is the trifecta of Henry, Lyncoln, and I. With cuts being made frequently and bigger ones at that, how much time do I have left with these boys? When will I have to say goodbye?
And even worse, what if I never do get to say goodbye?
Sensing my unease, Henry leans over and whispers in my ear, “You aren’t going anywhere, trust me.”
Instead of making me feel better, it makes me feel worse. What if it isn’t up to him?
****
“So as you await Friday, I thought it best we do our heritage project in which you will track your lineage from the bunkers to current times. Obviously, if you were remotely related to any of your romantic prospects here, we would step in immediately. For example, Lyncoln and Elizabeth are distant cousins,” Professor Zax starts in, telling us what we are to be doing for the morning. I look at Lyncoln and Elizabeth and notice their similarities. Flawless complexion, dark hair, high cheekbones. I can see that they could be related.
I hear groans from some people as he finishes instructions, but I’m honestly just glad for something to do. Six people were missing at breakfast. Six. With at least four more to go, I need to keep myself busy.
I work with Attie and Vanessa as we go through our charts filling in names. We giggle and laugh at the weird names, wondering how our ancestors met. Attie always has a romantic story with a happy ending for each of hers which makes us laugh. Vanessa always kills someone off in her stories just to make Attie mad. I find myself realizing I will very much miss them if I were to leave. They along with Marcia are the best friends I’ve ever had.
Not finding the name for a great-great-great uncle, I head to the front to ask Professor Zax about it.
“Professor Zax, I cannot find this ancestor’s name,” I say pointing to my chart. “It’s missing from all the books. Am I mistaken or is there a reason?”
“There is a reason, my dear. When someone has undergone expulsion from the country, their name is removed.” He smiles like it’s no big deal.
“Are you serious?” I ask, wondering what this man did that was so awful he was banished.
“You aren’t the only one dear, there are quite a few in that time period actually. I have a great aunt myself. Don’t sweat it.” He smiles kindly. “But the next time your temper gets the better of you, you can just blame it on that relative. I know I do.”
I laugh and thank him for his help and finish up my project with Attie and Vanessa. Surprisingly, it does help to pass the time.
****
That night, as I’m dreaming a crazy dream about the banished relative of mine and how he murdered Lyncoln’s dad, I hear a pounding on my door followed by a light being turned on. I immediately jolt awake thinking that they have come to dismiss me.
Seeing my panicked look, Elle smiles as she turns on my lamp. “No worries, we are only here for another verbal.”
“Goodness. Well at least you got my heart pumping,” I say as I prop myself up against the pillows.
Mr. Winters smirks.
We go through the typical questions before the annoying ones come about. More questions about how to handle traitors and if and when to use expulsion. Tons of hypotheticals that are kind of boring.
“You recently were assaulted by Grady. Would you consider that form of punishment for him?”
“No,” I say without hesitating. I wish I could just go back to sleep, this time not dreaming stupid things. I have never felt so sleep deprived as I have throughout the Culling.
“Elaborate please. The man assaulted you. You are still bruised and battered. And yet you do not choose banishment? Why?” he asks. These questions are more complex and specific than any of the past verbals.
“Grady just up and attacks Elizabeth because she is beautiful and his hormones are raging? I don’t think so. There was more going on in that situation.” I shrug and make a mental note to ask Lyncoln if he found out anything.
“So how would you handle it? Torture him? How do you get him to talk?” Mr. Winters continues with one question right after the other.
“My position and opinion on torture is that if someone truly fears for their life, they will tell you whatever you want to hear regardless of its truth. So, with torture, you get a bunch of people that falsely admit to crimes. We know that from the pre-Trident wars.” I pause a moment. “So with Grady, there needs to be a fine line. He needs to be scared, but not too scared. Threaten him with expulsion and let him talk to someone he knows and has a connection with, like Lyncoln, and see if that can get him to talk. Isolate him. Make him feel hopeless and despaired, but not pain. Sometimes emotional pain is more manipulating than physical pain,” I finish, feeling proud of my answer though I’m not sure it was the correct one.
“So do you approve of any other forms of torture then?”
“What is with all the torture questions?” I snap, clearly annoyed. We have been at this for at least twenty minutes and I just want to go back to bed. Why
is torture even an issue? Then it hits me.
“Wait, you wouldn’t ask and spend so much time on it if it weren’t a current issue, now would you? Who needs to be tortured? Why are there more guards than necessary whenever we go outside? What is everyone afraid of?” I blurt out.
Elle and Mr. Winters look at one another and exchange a glance and then he looks back at me.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He’s lying and we both know it.
I don’t say anything so he tries to ask again, “So no forms of torture then?”
“I’ll tell you when I know all the circumstances, like who we are torturing, why, and to what end,” I say confidently.
Mr. Winters smirks. “A very intelligent answer.” He turns to Elle, “I think we are done here.”
They start to leave, but Mr. Winters hesitates and turns back for a moment. “I understand that you may be confused by this verbal, but you will soon know the answers to your own questions. I applaud you on your perceptiveness though. You continue to impress me. Good night.”
I’m stunned by both what he says, and how many words the normally reticent Mr. Winters used. The light shuts off, I turn off my lamp, and I’m left to sleep again. It doesn’t find me quickly. I always assumed being Madam President would be making decisions to better and help rebuild our country. Now there is some other outside threat? And torture, of all things, is a current issue?
What exactly did I get myself into here?
The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) Page 32
