The Scales | A "The Jewel" Fanfiction

A Reason to Exist

The entire holding facility stands on the platform to see us off.

Southgate has its own train station, like the other three facilities. We are the last stops in the Marsh--the trains don't go any farther than the holding facilities. The work trains are closer to the wall that separates the Marsh from the Farm. I remember walking with my mother to one of those stations, fascinated by the puffy white smoke-clouds and the huge steam engine. The sight now just brings butterflies into my stomach.

It's very early in the morning, just after dawn. Many of the younger girls are bleary-eyed and trying not to yawn. But the ceremony is mandatory. I can understand though; at my first ceremony, I had been cold and wanting to go back to bed.

It's strange on this side of the platform. We won't know what we'll be wearing until we get to our prep rooms in the Auction House, so we're dressed the same--knee-length brown shift dresses with SG and our Lot numbers stenciled on the side.

I am now officially Lot 198. Angelina Forrest is gone.

The same representative from the Jewel speaks from behind a podium, the same speech about the tradition of surrogacy and how essential we are to the continuation of the royalty. The wind snatches most of his words, but I'm not listening anyway, too busy studying Violet. She's staring at his huge ring, a large ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds. I'm not surprised that it's called her attention, since she never paid attention to any of the ceremonies before.

I don't know about the Bank or the Jewel, but I'm sure that the rest of the city couldn't care less about the surrogates. None of the lower circles--the Smoke, the Farm, the Marsh--are allowed to have surrogates. Some parents try to hide their daughters or even pay off the doctors that test them. The blood test that indicates surrogacy is mandatory for every girl in the Marsh once she reaches puberty. No one really understands why only girls from the poorest circle have the mutation that causes the Auguries, but the royalty aren't letting anyone slip through the cracks. Caught avoiding the test? The sentence is death.

I'd never gone to an execution. I'd stand by the door to go out, watching everyone stream out into the yard, trying to work up enough courage to join. I never did. I'd always retreat to my room and read my cards. Violet had gone to one. She'd come back pale and tried to tell me, but I had pushed her away. The thought of seeing someone die sickened her. The one thing Violet had told me was that she had asked someone to tell Cobalt that she loved him. I wondered now if he had ever received the message.

The man from the Jewel finishes his speech and wipes his glasses with his silk handkerchief, like he does nearly every year. Violet startles, as though she were deep in thought. I wish I was nearly as smart as she was, as calculating. But I'm not. It took me weeks to understand the concepts they taught us at Southgate.

There are only twenty-two surrogates from Southgate this year. Most are coming from Northgate and Westgate. Our train is a plum-colored steam engine with three carriages, much smaller and delicate than the one my father and Ella take to work.

Our head doctor, Dr. Steele, shakes the fat man's hand, then turns to face us. Everything about the doctor is long and grey--long chin, long nose, long arms, grey hair, grey eyebrows, grey eyes, even a grey tinge in his skin. Lily and I started one of the most talked-about rumors at Southgate: that he was addicted to opiates and it had washed out this natural coloring.

"And now, ladies," He says in his frail, whispery voice, "it is time to depart."

He waves a long-fingered hand, and the doors on the steam engine open with a loud hissing sound. The surrogates begin to file into the carriages. I close my eyes and remember for a few precious seconds. I see the rose-shaped bars on the windows of the dormitories, set in the pale pink stone of the holding facility. I see the faces of the other surrogates, the girls who will go back inside once this train leaves and never think of us again. I open my eyes and see Violet turn to look back at Southgate. Bad idea. Turning back will only increase her reluctance to serve the royalty. I turn to see what's captured her attention. A twelve-year-old girl with bulging brown eyes. She is so thin, and clearly malnourished; she must be new. She meets our gazes, and she salutes us. Violet nods to her, but I turn my back and step into the carriage. Marsh-Angie is gone. Jewel-Angelina has taken her place, and I have to step into her shoes before the Auction.