Outlier

II

The letter in my hands feels heavy, paper made of lead. I notice a bit of wax underneath my fingernail from where I'd broken the seal earlier in front of Colonel Northwoods and Advisor Barrows. Normally a dirty fingernail would bother me, but I simply do not have enough mental energy to care.

I'm back at home; Barrows, thankfully, immediately excused me from the final school day and assured me my personal effects would be delivered to our home after cabinet inspections were complete. I didn't even have time to see Cel before I found my feet carrying me home on autopilot, but not before I stopped in the sanitation room and vomited my pancakes and strawberries from that morning. The pink looked almost like blood. Mother and father still hadn't left for work yet when I returned, and were shocked to see me.

"Let me read it again, please." Mother gently takes the letter from my hands and her eyes scan it frantically, even though we have already been over it a dozen times. She purses her lips with determination and I know she's searching for an explanation and an excuse, just like I had. "We won't be providing any more detail than this," was all Colonel Northwoods had offered me, which was essentially nothing. By this point I'd memorized the letter's contents, there wasn't much:

On Friday, The 30th day of Month 5, Myra Cleary is to report to the Justice Corps entry processing kiosk at the rail station immediately following the Career Selection process. This information is classified and protected.

"Wells, perhaps you could ask around at the government offices for an explanation--"

"No, no," Father cuts her off, shaking his head. "Something like this is far, far beyond anything here in New Orville. This had to have come from the Capitol. This must be directly from the High Office."

Mother sighs and buries her face in her hands, holding the letter limply between her fingers. Father wraps an arm around her shoulders and stares out the front window, expression impossible to read. I feel a pang of something noxious in my gut. It's my letter. My future. Why do I have to be the one to act like I'm not scared, terrified even?

Mother looks up and I know that her sixth sense, that thing that makes her such a good Counselor, has kicked in. "Myra, dear, you've been awfully quiet. Do you need to say something?"

"I'm not sure," I admit after taking a deep pause.

"What is in your brain?" Mother smiles weakly; this is how she used to say it when I was just a little girl. I can't help but smile a little too.

"A lot, but also nothing," I admit. "I don't understand why I've been Assigned... I wonder if I should be apprehensive. And I wonder how this will alter my future."

"The Justice Corps is a noble place to spend a career," Father offers hopefully. "You're intelligent, capable, driven... I have no doubt you can be successful there," he assures me. "If this indeed comes from the High Office, we should all be proud that they have come to hand select you from among all your peers."

"Maybe you're right," I say, and a small seed of hope sprouts somewhere deep in my chest. It's tiny, but it's there.

Mother looks up at the clock and shakes her head. "I need to leave soon, I have quite a few sessions at the Healthcare Center and several at the school building in the afternoon." Her hand clasps mine tightly. "Do you want me to cancel them today, dear? I can--"

"No, Mom, please." I squeeze her hand hard in return. "They need you there."

"You need me too," She replies carefully. Her fingers wind their way to my bun and she gently removes my hair tie, letting my shoulder-length dark hair fall messily around my face. "There, that should feel better."