chapter 2
the thirteenth of may, 2155
The blue clock above the door shows 11:07 AM, and I have yet again spent several minutes of History class just staring at it.
I can tell by Mr. Whicker's elaborate hand gestures that we are learning about how and why the Patriarchy was implemented, like we do nearly every history class. I'm not sure though, since I'm spending my time anxiously waiting for the class to be over.
"Around the 1920s, when democracy was still intact, females were given the right to vote on a national basis," I hear, once I move my eyes to the front of the class. Mr. Whicker's dark eyes scurry over the back row, and I force myself to pay attention. The talk with Father scared me, and it reminded me that I cannot afford to go unclaimed. No female can.
The atmosphere around me thickens once I glance over at Xander, scribbling something in his notebook. I slowly fold my sleeve back, my eyes shifting between my wrist and him. Ever since he traced his initials on it yesterday, It's like I've felt them there constantly. I only have thirty-eight days until they're really there, and... I have to know what they'll look like.
Xander Forge. X F.
I take a black marker out of my pencil case, and I look over at Xander again, this time his eyes directly aiming at mine.
The fierce blue in them reminds me of a whirlpool, sucking in anything it touches. It's one month until my ceremony, and he is the only one who has shown interest. Not only shown interest, but been persistent. It frightens me to think about how I'll have to look into those eyes every day for the rest of my life.
"With the following years, the suffrage movement proved to be a tremendous mistake." Mr. Whicker continues, catching my attention. A ridge between his eyebrows protrudes as they crease, his bulky face hardening.
"Shortly after giving females an equal voice to decide our government, we were sent into the great depression, one of the biggest economic crisis of all time." He insists, and I peek at the texts in my history book, corresponding with his words.
"It also boosted a movement that threatened the values and beliefs we hold so dearly today." The words drill at me as I take the cap off of the black marker. Xander's eyes are still on me, examining me, as the teacher's words intrude my reluctant ears.
"Moving into the 1960's, this movement gained momentum as society transitioned drastically over the next decades" I listen, carefully placing the marker on my wrist.
"The movement poisoned our social structures. Emasculating our men, giving females permission to have abortions, accepting and even praising homosexuality..." He lists, and my hand warily begins to write the X. I need to know how his initials will look like on my wrist.
"This corrupt, unethical, nefarious social structure lasted for nearly a century." I drag the coarse marker sideways to finish the X, and it feels like sandpaper against my skin.
I lift the marker once I finish the F, and I see the final initials manifested on my skin. Xander's eyes pull mine away from my wrist, and I feel a sickening tinge of nausea spreading from my gut.
I see him smirk, but I make sure to hide my wrist from his sight, even though I have this strange feeling he knows exactly what I've done. I weaken by looking at the letters, as it makes me think about what they'll mean. They mean that my life will no longer belong to me.
"And the movement that caused this huge blight on American history was called..." Mr. Whicker's voice reaches me again as frail shivers spread down my spine, staring at my own skin. Xander raises slightly from his chair, eyeing towards my arm. I panic, immediately rubbing my thumb against the area, wanting the letters gone. My heartbeat calms down and my lungs regain air as the letters disperse into one thick blob.
I decide to ignore him, and I shift towards the head of the classroom again, where I see the teacher pointing to a word on the chalkboard.
"Feminism."
"What're you doing after school?" Nancy asks me, adjusting the polka-dotted bandana, perfectly placed around her head. It matches her red lipstick, which she is fine-tuning in the mirror.
She fixes her hair, flashing a smile at herself before turning to me. We just had our last class of the day, female etiquette. That class always drains every amount of energy out of me, but not Nancy. She seems excited, even.
"Nothing I think," I say, staring at myself in the mirror. I feel compelled to lean forward too and make an attempt at taming my frizzy curls. I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear, and I dig up a lipstick I took from my mom. I have to do something to make myself presentable.
Over the years, I've tried relentlessly to present and dress like what is preferred, like what I've seen in movies, in magazines, and in my school books. I don't think I'm doing such a bad job at it, actually. I'm wearing a dress showing just the amount of skin allowed, my lips and nails are painted red, and my hair is as neat as possible, which isn't that neat.
"Daniel told me to come home with him after school today," She exhales with a smile. I lean back from the mirror, turning towards her.
"You're going home with him?" I question, reminded of the countless times Xander has asked me to. I've always been afraid to say yes.
"Yes, and I know what you're thinking," Nancy says, gathering her shoulder-length platinum blonde hair over her shoulder.
"But nothing is going to happen! Exams are in two weeks, and I just want to spend more time with him before my ceremony," she explains. Her shoulders tighten, and I can tell that she's tense.
"That's because you are unsure of whether or not he'll claim you," I murmur, as I pick up my bag from the floor. Even though she scoffs like I'm delusional, I know that's the truth. She's becoming more and more anxious as graduation approaches. We all are.
"I don't get it, there are plenty of others who will stand up from that crowd for sure! Especially after the exam, you'll probably get a score above ninety," I exhale, frustrated.
With the number of stares she gets when walking down the hallway, I wouldn't be surprised if even three men will try to claim her. That means she has options, because if there are two or more men who stand up during a claiming ceremony, the female gets to choose between them.
"I just don't get why you would choose Daniel," I shake my head, and I notice a growing insecurity in her eyes as I sling the bag over my shoulder.
"I love him," she says weakly, her shoulders lowering. I exhale, defeated, and I try my best not to roll my eyes. I've attempted to understand how Nancy would want Daniel to claim her, but I just don't. He seems to pick on her every move and threaten to end things with her once she does something he doesn't approve of. It seems exhausting.
"Ok, well, I hope you have a great time." I end the discussion. I don't want to fight. I turn my back and walk out of the bathroom, entering the hallway.
I don't want to make Nancy insecure about her decisions, and I might have been a tad ruder than necessary. It's because I'm jealous. Not because of Daniel, but because it's so easy for her to act and think appropriately. And my jealousy increases after etiquette class, because she never slips up or does anything that isn't considered acceptable.
I get to my locker and put my bag into it, startled once I close it.
"Hello, pretty."
"Hi, Xander." I try to smile. I don't want to, but I figure I have to get used to being around him. It's only a month left before we'll move in together.
"Who is walking you to city hall?" He asks as a smile appears. My lips part, and my stomach tightens as I'm reminded of what I said to him yesterday. To avoid him, I said I was going to visit Father at his workplace.
"Oh, uhm..." I search my mind. Females aren't allowed to walk in public without a man. Now, of course, Xander wants to walk me all the way to city hall, where my father works.
"I'll walk you," he offers, my heartbeat accelerating.
"No, no that's okay, I'll just ask my br-" I stress, shaking my head. My shoulders tense up as he grabs my arm, silencing me.
"I'll walk you." He repeats, and I realize he is not asking me, he is telling me. His hand wraps around my wrist, still black with ink from when I rubbed off his initials. I inhale sharply, and I close my eyes for a moment, accepting that I have no choice. I nod weakly, and he smiles.
"Alright then, let's go." He releases my wrist, stepping to the side. I start walking towards the exit, and he follows, right next to me. Great, now I actually have to visit Father.
We walk together to the train station, and I keep slouching to avoid his eyes. I feel uneasy, breathing heavily as I try to come up with a story to tell Father as to why I'm visiting him in the middle of the day.
We enter the grand-station. It is a big white building, adorned with intricate carvings, enormous windows, and a big clock just above the entrance. To reach the platform, we walk past faded grey murals, and a grand fountain at the center of the wide, shiny stone floor. Xander takes my hand and I follow him up the big staircase leading to the platforms. Men walk down with their claimed females, passing us. Some look miserable, and some don't.
Maybe there is a way to be happy, living this way. I turn around to Xander when we reach the platform.
"How... was your day?" I try, and his eyes light up, followed by a smirk. He must think that I'm warming up to him. And I'm trying. It's not like a have an abundance of other choices.
"It was good, Amelia. I noticed you writing something on your wrist in history class," he says, making my eyes widen. I put my hands behind my back instantly, looking up at him.
"I- I was drawing something," I say.
"Let me see."
I rub my thumb against it again, to make sure all of the ink is gone. I don't want him to see his initials on my wrist. At least not yet. I do as he says, presenting my wrist, pulling up my sleeve. Thankfully, the letters aren't visible.
"I wiped the drawing off," I lie, smiling lightly.
"Right..." He doubts, and relief rushes through me as I hear the train approaching. It releases a heavy exhale of fumes, making a violent sound as the doors slide open. Xander places his hand lightly on my back, leading me onto the train.
"Ladies first," he says. I get on, and I find seats ahead of each other. I don't want to sit next to him.
"You are well-mannered," he grins as he sits down too. I make sure my back lines up with the seat, as I cross my legs and put my hands on my knee, like the female sitting across from us does. She looks down on the ground, and I can see initials on her wrist. The man sitting next to her has his hand on her thigh, reading something on his tablet.
"Thank you," I nod. I don't get that sort of compliment often.
"How did you like history class today? We were learning about feminism..." he begins, reminding me of the sixty minutes I spent hearing about why I'm inferior.
"What did you think?" He prompts and I notice the same glare in his eyes I get from Father when he quizzes me.
"I..." I start, but my breath hitches as he leans over, putting his elbows on his knees.
"Well I agree, of course, feminism is wrong, i- it's poisonous," I gulp. He squints heavily, leaning back in his chair as a troubled look spreads on his face. Maybe he doesn't believe me.
"Are you being honest with me, Amelia? You can be honest with me, you know." He questions further, as I wipe my sweaty palm around my wrist.
Yeah, right. I can't be honest with you if it means disagreeing or even questioning the Patriarchy. The people who do, get imprisoned. Or worse.
"Yes of course," I fake another smile.
"Alright..." He hesitates, and I turn to the window. I watch the river as the train booms over the city, so fast that the fence at the side of the rail turns to a blur.
I'll have to lie every day for the rest of my life, I realize.
After a claiming ceremony, each pair gets assigned property. Pairs live there for the rest of their life unless they have children and have the finances to buy a bigger place.
My future would at least be bearable if it were with someone I... loved. So far, I haven't had any interest in any guy, at all. Maybe it takes time. If that's the case, I bet it'll take a lot of time with Xander.
"Get up, this is our stop," Xander demands, separating me from my thoughts. I get to my feet, following him to the doors. My sight draws towards the female who was sitting across from us. The man looks a bit older than her, maybe five years or so.
She tilts her head back slightly, letting the sunlight brighten the bruise around her eye. She looks at me for a few seconds, before I notice the man's face aiming upwards from his tablet. I look away before his eyes reach mine.
The sleek doors slide open, and we step out onto the platform. It's elevated above the rest of the city, so far that I can see city hall. I shield my eyes from the sunlight with the palm of my hand, squinting to see the building. There are strips of grass surrounding it, and long, wide stone pathways on each side of the large fountain leading up to the entrance.
Luckily, it isn't that far away. I walk behind Xander as he walks onto the escalator, turning around to look at me. His step lowers, elevating me over him. I struggle not to smile as I look down on him. It's a nice change.
"I'll wait for you here," Xander says after asking one of the receptionists to follow me to Father's office.
"What?" I blink before I realize that Xander has to follow me home too. I nod at him. I turn around, walking behind the receptionist towards the elevator. I step soundlessly onto the carpeted floor once the doors open, staring at the cross on it.
The receptionist stands in the corner, wearing a dark green blazer, with a gray turtleneck beneath. She has droopy eyes, a tired face, and short, straight brown hair.
We get to the top floor, and my heart jumps when I realize I have to have an excuse as to why I'm visiting him in the middle of the day.
I follow the receptionist down the long hallway, and we reach the door to his office. She smiles politely at me, then walks away back down the hallway. I stand there for a good two minutes, and I finally think of an explanation as to why I'm here that hopefully won't make him mad at me.
I knock on the door, and I hear him say "come in." His eyebrows raise as soon as he sees me, and he shuts the laptop in front of him, standing up.
"Amelia." He says as I close the door behind me.
"Hello Father," I greet him, bowing my head down. I take a few steps toward his desk, and he watches me carefully.
"Who took you here?" He asks me, with doubt in his voice.
"Xander, a boy from school."
"What do you want?" He sighs, opening up his computer again.
"Oh, uhm... I just wanted to apologize," I say, sitting down in the brown leather chair opposite his desk. I place my arm carefully on the arm-rests, crossing my legs, sitting up straight. Chin up, shoulders back.
"For what? What did you do now?" He raises his voice.
"Nothing! Just for yesterday, I- I realized that I didn't apologize to you for... causing trouble," I say, eyes down. I remove my hands from the armrest, to prevent it getting sweat marks. He looks up from his computer, his brows lowering. He squints for a second, slicking back his blonde-grey hair.
"And you came all the way to city hall to apologize?" he interrogates, causing me to tremble.
"W- Well, you work late on Tuesdays, so I thought I'd stop b-" I conjure a terrible excuse, and he puts his hand in the air to silence me.
"I don't have time for this, Amelia. I'm conducting a job interview in five minutes," he exhales, frustrated. He points to the door, and I get up from my chair.
Sometimes, I wish he would pay half as much attention to me as he does Thomas. He is constantly ignoring me, lecturing me, or scolding me. But over time, I've gotten used to it. That's just how he is.
"I'll be home at ten, have your friend walk you home," he dismisses me.
"Yes Father, I'm sorry," I say as I twist the handle of the blurred glass door. I open it and I'm just about to walk straight into a tall figure standing in my way before I freeze.
My eyes travel up from the shiny black shoes to the piercing green eyes, causing my breath to hitch. My eyes struggle to adjust to his sculpted face, so I blink twice and take a step back. He looks surprised at first, but then he offers a small smile with his deeply pink lips.
I suddenly remember that I'm not supposed to look a man in the eyes before spoken to, so I dart my eyes to the ground. My heartbeat accelerates, wanting to see them again.
"Hello," he says with a deep voice, and I immediately look up at him again, sinking into the sight of him.
"Hello," I say a few seconds later, almost forgetting the word. I'm reminded of a lesson in etiquette class many years ago, where we learned how to greet a male properly. I gather my fingers, curling my thumb slightly. I lay my flat palm in front of me, bowing my head down as well.
I gasp weakly when I feel his hands surround mine. The warmth of them surprises me, and my eyes lock at the small tattoo below the knuckle of his index finger on his left hand. It's a cross.
No, it's the cross... the patriarchal cross.
I look up again, soaking up every inch of him. His hair is brown, short, mostly straight, small curls forming only around his ears. He stares at me too, not even blinking.
"Alden Myles, is it? Here for the job interview?" Father interrupts my thoughts, reminding me of my surroundings. His eyes move from mine, as I hear Father approach him. My hand feels eerily cold as they are abandoned by his. As he moves to shake hands with Father, I step aside, still shyly looking at him from the side.
"No, Sir, I'm not here for the interview. I'm here for the job." He says sternly, staring Father right in the eye. Father looks impressed, as he steps aside for him to walk to the chair I was just sitting on moments ago. I close my eyes, and my heartbeat decreases back to normal.
"Amelia, off you go," Father says. I nod, swallowing heavily as I catch another glance of the man who was touching my hand five seconds ago. It feels cold now.
He adjusts the sleeves of his black blazer, and he looks back at me one final time as I close the door, slowly. As only one thin strip remains between the door and the doorframe, he looks away. I shut the door, releasing the handle. I turn around, leaning against the wall, letting it slowly cool me down. I stare at the wall, still recovering from the overbearing heat in my chest.
It's one o'clock in the morning, and I can't fall asleep. I've tried, for hours. Every time I close my eyes, I see his smirk. And it makes me restless.
I turn on the light in my room, sighing at myself. I run my fingers through my hair, and I realize I won't be able to sleep for a little while, so I get up. I walk out of my room, sneaking down the long sterile hallway, to the staircase.
I always hate how the glass feels against my feet, but tonight I don't mind it. Anything to cool me down. I walk down to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. I sip it as I idly walk back up to my room, and I notice something as I close the door; a noise.
I look around the room, and I trace it to the window. I put the glass of water down on the night table next to my bed, and I slowly walk towards the window, which covers almost the entirety of the wall. I push away the curtain, and I see someone in the garden, looking up at me. I squint for a few seconds before I recognize the person. What the... What is she doing here?
I see her walking across the big yard, towards the entrance of the house. I run quietly down the stairs again. When I reach the main door, I look through the peephole to double-check who it is, and then I open the door.
She looks at me, with little expression on her face. My eyes observe her up and down, noticing her failing posture, her torn dress, and her lifeless eyes. Her makeup is smeared for the first time ever.
"...Nancy?"
author's note
First cliffhanger! Eep I'm really excited for this story!
Did you like this chapter? It's the longest one I've written ever! :)
See you in the next one. All love, -Thea.