"Welcome Students," the semi-transparent form of Mrs. Winston announced through the classroom 3D VR, as the last herd of blue cardigan clad students scurried into the classroom and round their seats. "No doubt you're wondering why you're in your classrooms today and not in the auditorium commencing the school year, as we usually do here at Rosslyn Hall. In light of recent events, we thought that it would be better for the safety of the student body not to gather all the students in one place. Our priority here, at Rosslyn Hall, is your protection." Mrs. Winston assured solemnly as one last student rushed through her virtual image.
Laurel stared glassy eyed at the pudgy form of Mrs. Winston and blinked a few times. Over the years she had heard this type of speech before: safety, recent events, protection, blah-blah-blah. How were "recent events" any different than the events of the past seventeen years? She wondered. Rumors that the shield would fail and leave the citizens of the Metrodome exposed to their enemies, had been circulating her entire life. Shield status was lumped with the weather and traffic on every morning and evening news show.
Safety was a very low priority for Laurel this morning. She had other things in mind. In fact, she had been obsessing over this day for the past two weeks when she heard she was a finalist. Today was the day she would be presented with her award—hopefully. A mixture of excitement, pride, vindication, and anxiety churned uneasily in her stomach. She had been working on achieving this one goal in school since she was ten years old. Though she hated to admit it, she hoped that this award would show her classmates that she was somebody of importance outside of school—someone who mattered. Because in school, she didn't feel like she mattered at all.
For some reason that completely eluded her, Laurel had never fitted in with her classmates, even though she'd been with this same group of kids since grade school. They all had their clicks and groups, even the new kids, the outcasts, and the nerds had their own groups—but Laurel didn't fit into any of them. She didn't think she was shy, but she never knew what to say to them either. She had never figured out what girls could talk and giggle about for hours on end. Nor had she ever discovered why boy's laughed, hit each other then laughed again. Even when she stood among them, their conversations seemed so...so... perplexing to her. She had no idea why they found certain things funny or interesting. Laurel simply did not get it. Socially, she had two left feet. So being presented with this award in front of the whole school meant proof that she had a life outside these walls. Hopefully, it would result in respect or admiration, maybe even envy?
But now, Mrs. Winston was telling them that she would not get her award in the customary way. She would not be where she pictured herself being. She would have to stand right here, in her classroom and be broadcast throughout the school's VR. On one hand this was better, it took some of the pressure off having to stand there in front of everyone. But on the other hand, she would not get to see the expressions on her classmate's faces when she, Laurel Garner, got rewarded for being a brilliant, talented, professional, ballerina.
Laurel found Ballet in the third grade, she grabbed hold of it and scarcely did anything else. At the Metrodome Ballet Academy, she was the leader, respected and admired by the other dancers. Sadly, none of these dancers attended school with her. At the academy, the teachers called only on her to show the other dancers how to do a pose. She was the "natural" as they called her, the one who could stretch her joints in unnatural ways with grace. Laurel Garner was the academy's "little prodigy". They nurtured her and planned for her future as if she were their own daughter. And this last summer all the instructors had the satisfaction of seeing their little star perform with the Professional Metrodome Ballet Company. Something no High School student had ever done before.
At Rosslyn Hall, it was vastly different. Academically she did well. Mostly thanks to the fact that she had Eidetic Memory—perfect recall. This was something that her dad told her was a double-edged sword. Her parents were always amazed at Laurel's wondrous ability to remember things she had only seen or heard once. This helped Laurel keep her grades up. However, she never internalized any of the right answers she got. She merely recited all the information she could remember, back onto to the tests—hence the double edge. She remembered everything but knew nothing.
"You have all the information you need in your head, Laurel," her father would tell her after inspecting her test scores. "But information alone will not help you in life unless you can reason through it. That, my love, is called wisdom," he would drone on an on. Laurel found it vexing. Her parents were the only parents in the Metrodome that would have a problem with their child getting good grades.
Still, her parents never reported her "gift" to the school authorities like they should have. "You'll be better off if they don't know," they explained to her. "The Metrodome will recruit you for the Department of Defense or some such governmental job, and you'll never see the inside of a dance studio again."
That was all she needed to know. The mere thought of not being able to dance again was enough to keep her mnemonic abilities quiet. If only this ability helped her socially in any way. But it didn't. The fact that she could remember past conversations in great detail was actually a deterrent for Laurel, who in hopes of being helpful, would remind everyone of what was actually said. This, she learned after a while, was not well received by her peers. So, she learned to keep quiet. Then she got bored, and this eventually led to her self-alienation from groups.
Now she had been accepted at the Metrodome Ballet, as a high school student! She had achieved her life-long dream. And today her name would be called up and she would be given an award for this achievement. Surely, she would win the award. Who else was there? No one!
So as Mrs. Winston continued to jabber on about how seriously they take the "safety of their students", Laurel's fingers fidgeted, and her knee bounced nervously up and down under her desk. What if they didn't give her the award and talked on an on about the shield and the supposed enemies that lurked outside the Metrodome? What if—? Laurel felt a rough hand bearing down on her knee, steading it. Only, she couldn't see to whom it belonged, until she hunched under her desk for a better look.
The culprit was a boy sitting in front of her. He had his arm cocked behind his back and was reaching through the gap in the back of his chair. So shocked was Laurel at this unexpected touch, that her eyes grew large with astonishment. However, the moment that the boy turned with a smile on his face, her features softened significantly, to the point that they eventually dissipated into a mixture of disbelief and curiosity with a good dose of embarrassment—the boy was... pleasant to look at. She had never laid eyes on him before, and that meant he was new.
"You were making me nervous," he clarified with a cheeky grin, then released his grasp on her knee.
Stunned by this brief interaction, Laurel stilled her leg long enough to be distracted by Mrs. Winston's shrill voice as her VR image flickered a bit. She was starting her usual beginning of the year announcements. Well... Laurel thought, shifting her attention back to the screen. It may be all for the better, she surmised. She had been so anxious about walking up to the podium all by herself, that now this second option seemed more reasonable. The important thing, she concluded, is that I get it. I must get it. I will get it. The thought mollified her for the moment, and she made a special point to look past the new boy in front of her and focus all her attention on the VR image of Mrs. Winston.
Still images of the new staff members now flashed in front of them. There was a new Science and Literature teacher, a new custodian, blah, blah, blah.... Next came the new students. This was a big deal here at Rosslyn Hall, since the school prided itself on acquiring the most talented students from all the cantons in the Metrodome. Most of these kids were here on scholarship because they couldn't afford the tuition, but their great skill in something or other caught some headhunter's attention and now they were here. At Rosslyn Hall they would get the best education the Metrodome could offer. The "New Acquisitions", as they were called, were always presented before the whole school during the assembly. This year, they would have to introduce themselves from their rooms and give a short speech on how proud they were to be here, at Rosslyn Hall—"the gateway to greatness"—over the VR.
Anyone who wanted to be more than just a mere laborer, passed through Rosslyn Hall. In fact, all the current government officials were Rosslyn Hall graduates. To be a student here was a big deal, but to be an award-winning student, was an even bigger deal. One had to meet the grades requirement and have a distinction in their Field of Study. Usually this came in the form of an internship or a scholarship. This was the award that she'd been after since her freshman year. This was the award that she hoped would change her social status and help her earn the respect of her peers.
Previously recorded close-ups of the three new acquisitions flashed before the students. They stood rigidly as the VR recorded them from every angle. A girl was featured first. She had jet black hair and an impressive tattoo of a snake that wrapped itself across one arm, then draped around the back of her neck, and down the other arm. She was some sort of deviant genius who was able to hack into one of the most secure networks of the government. She had to get released from the teen penal grounds every day during school hours, to come to Rosslyn Hall. After school, she had to head back to her cell for the night. As part of the introduction, she told the student body that she would have to work for the government for ten years after her graduation as part of her sentence.
The other was a pox-marked boy, who apparently created a new type of bomb, for his science project in his old school. He explained that he placed the bomb inside a robotic beetle, and that he controlled it remotely to detonate at a safe distance. "No humans were hurt during my explosion," he clarified with a nasal snicker. "I had cleared it with my canton first. I had my bomb detonate inside an empty building that had to be demolished anyway." It would be obvious to everyone, who he would work for after college. Bomb makers were always in high demand at the Metrodome Department of Defense.
The third student was no other than the boy who had steadied her leg. As his name was called, he stood up casually, as if he were at home getting up to get a snack and walked to the front of the classroom. Then the in-class VR camera zoomed in on him and broadcasted his words to the rest of the school. To Laurel's surprise, the boy had been found by one of the most notorious headhunters, someone who prided himself on finding the real gems.
"Hi," he said with a casual smile, and Laurel could see that several of the girls in the classroom perked-up at the sound of his voice. "My name is Drue Miller. I'm from the border." He was direct and unashamed. Comfortable confidence exuded from him. "I do play Rugby," he admitted modestly. Laurel knew that from that moment on, Rugby games would be well attended by the girls in school.
"But, I was recruited because I'm good at fixing things. As you know, the shield is always breaking down at the borders, and I've been fixing our section since I was ten. Because the shield is so unreliable, we also have to have back-up power in my Canton, and I ended up inventing a power generator out of spare parts," he said unaffectedly. "But electronics are not the only things I like to fix. I can fix furniture, too. I like working with wood a lot and my favorite thing is to carve." A hush fell over the classroom and Laurel could almost hear a pin drop on the other end of the school. Touching wood was taboo. Strict laws protected all the trees in the Metrodome. Sure, he was just fixing broken furniture, but to admit that he liked carving? There was a museum in the city that displayed broken pieces of wood. Could he get in trouble for carving without permission?
When the shield sealed the borders of the Metrodome fifty years ago, no one could go out and no one could get in. Anything that was left inside the dome was it. Trees and wood, among other things, became a prized possession. Wooden furniture was considered a relic and few people had any to boast of.
As if reading their minds, Drue explained that he had been fixing his mother's old chairs since he was nine years old. When they were too broken and old to be fixed again, he carefully took them apart and made completely new pieces of furniture for his family. Neighbors quickly started bringing him their old broken-down furniture and watched how he fixed them or turned them into something else still of use. When nothing salvageable was left, he carved it into something that they could display.
While he talked, Laurel caught herself gawking at him, something she quickly fixed by looking down at her nails and fidgeting with the pleats on her gingham skirt. But despite her covert façade, she could feel Drue's burning stare on her as he spoke. His eyes seemed to be burrowing into her forehead as she looked down. It was as if he was talking just to her. He wasn't even looking at the VR camera. He was boldly looking at her! This did not go unnoticed by her classmates, who darted looks between him and her the whole time. He didn't even break eye contact with Laurel after he had finished his introduction and headed back to his seat.
"What are you doing for lunch?" he asked, leaning casually over the back of his chair the moment he sat down. Gonzalo, a boy from the row next to theirs, snickered at Drue's question.
"Eating," Laurel responded simply. Totally caught off guard.
Gonzalo laughed out loud now. "Don't bother, man. She's strictly ornamental."
Drue was about to respond, when the Principal announced this year's award-winning candidates, and Laurel's attention snapped eagerly back to the screen. This made Drue turn and look at what had her so rapturously engaged.
Laurel suddenly felt totally off balance. Gonzalo's comment about her, the new guy's attention and invitation, it was all too... too much to process. Her nervousness suddenly turned her stomach into a rock, and she felt nauseous. This award would change nothing—she suddenly realized. She was too different, too odd, too weird.
"This year we have three candidates. All very worthy of this award. But only one..." Mrs. Winston's words echoed all around her, but they sounded far away, as if she were speaking down a tunnel. "Not only is she the youngest student to get this award, but she has also managed to be the first high school student to work as a full-time member of a professional company. This young lady has spent this summer dancing for the Metrodome Ballet and has been offered by said organization a full-time position in their cast, upon graduation."
Laurel's eyes blurred; it was her. She was going to win the award. But somehow it no longer held any sense of accomplishment. In fact, the mere thought of having to stand up to receive it and being filmed by that cursed floating VR camera, made her feel sick.
"She has also been accepted to train personally under the notorious company director," Mrs. Winston said with pride. "So please congratulate... Laurel Garner!" Mrs. Winston gushed and started clapping. The VR of Mrs. Winston flickered off and it suddenly focused in on her! It hovered right next to her seat and buzzed like a cursed bee. Her teacher walked up to her and handed her the neatly framed award as she clapped enthusiastically. Only a few other half-hearted students joined in the clapping. Slowly, as if in a nightmare, Laurel slid off her desk and tried to walk normally to the front of the classroom. All the excitement and glamor over getting her award had now been lost.
"Don't chassé, don't chassé," she reminded herself as she scurried toward the front of the room. But she must have shuffled her feet a bit because she heard a few derisive chuckles as she moved. "Quack, quack," someone cackled. This was not the first time they had done this. In fact, they quacked at her on a regular basis because of her habit of walking with her toes pointing outward.
The award itself was a simple framed paper, inlaid in golden letters, depicting the school's logo, and her name was smartly written in calligraphy. The string of clapping had now died down to a mere trickle of recognition as she got a hold of her framed award as if to hold on to something solid. Laurel didn't look up to see who was still clapping. She couldn't even face the camera to say anything meaningful, as she had planned. She simply mumbled a word of thanks and chasséd all the way back to her seat.
When it became apparent to Mrs. Winston that Laurel would not give a little speech, she decided to do it for her, highlighting all her major accomplishments as a dancer and a student.
Gonzalo was still chuckling as he leaned over to the new boy to tell him something. "Obviously, she's smart enough to get this award," the new boy muttered as he pushed Gonzalo back toward his seat. Laurel couldn't tell if this was a friendly shove, as boys usually give each other, or a threatening one.