Central Sector, Upper Level - The Brights
After six days of captivity, I'm about ready to pull my hair out and bolt for the door, no matter how futile an escape effort would be. But I've kept it together this long, I could do so for a few more hours. After this therapy session comes to an end, we'll be expected to present our choice to the Law. Later today, some of us would be draped in the gauzy, white robes of Future Councilors and swear fealty to the FUA. The rest of us would face expulsion.
We were told if we accepted re-entry int the Law program, we would be absolved from our sins. Our hands would be wiped clean of any blood that made have stained them. This line of talk seemed to spark something inside Mara and she'd asked the doctor about it who'd insisted, "Blood spilled with purpose could never be considered a sin."
"Allison?"
I shove two fingers between my throat and the starched collar of the cream blouse I'm wearing underneath the blazer and tug.
"Allison," Dr. Aronson says again. "Stop fiddling with your uniform."
Sweat runs down my face, despite the air whistling through the overhead vents. I sigh and withdraw my fingers, accepting defeat.
In lieu of a pen and clipboard, the doctor taps her feet against the marble floor to punctuate her annoyance.
I lean back in my chair. "Wish you'd stop calling me that," I say, bunching up the hem of my skirt. My knees make a sound akin to velcro being unstuck as I pull them apart.
The doctor snorts. "Calling you what?"
"Don't play oblivious. You know that's not my name."
The leather seat Dr. Aronson has shoved herself into for today's session, gives a little squelch as she shifts her weight. With a fat finger, she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her cheeks flush.
The little amount of lip she has pulls into a line. "I couldn't help but notice you're not wearing your FUA pin." She moves her legs, which sounds like someone wrenching apart two greased up hams, before crossing one over the other. "This is the third time this week." She straightens and heaves her enormous bosom forward, her blouse's buttons pushed to their limits. Sam's eyes bulge at the sight. If he were any more obvious, drool would be hanging off his chin in thin, glossy strings. Mara would usually reprimand his behavior with a quick jab to the ribs or gut, but she keeps her gaze on Aronson, hopeful, enraptured.
The doctor clears her throat, the universal sign she wishes to hold my attention again, so I oblige her. "Gold was never my thing," I say, shrugging despite the discomfort the movement lodges between my shoulder blades. "Always seemed best suited to adorn small-dicked men and withered, empty women." I nod at the gold necklace looped around her thick neck.
Sighing, Aronson folds her hands on her lap and begins to talk, her words little more than air being leaked from a tire what with how pursed her mouth is. "Lashing out today, too?" She smooths a few strands of uneven fringe out of her eyes. "You're always one to redirect. Never want to confront the truth."
"If you're so aware of my MO, why insist on having these pointless meetings? Can't you crawl back to your boss, and when you're done licking his ass, let him know that this shit isn't working?" I kick up my feet and plant them on the glass table in front of me
A stretched, upside-down reflection of Dr. Aronson smiles at me from inside the bulbous player which means she was frowning at me, again. "Just because therapy hasn't worked for you yet, doesn't mean the other Potentials don't feel differently."
I gulp as she scans the others, situated in a crescent around the table, opposite me. On the first day of therapy, six chairs had been arranged in a line, all facing the larger doctor's chair. I'd purposely moved mine opposite the others, placing a barricade between myself and them. After David--I clench my hands in my lap-- I just couldn't bring myself to...to be near them.
A hiss of breath escapes Aronson's mouth as she drags her fingers along the armrests of her chair. She'd come to hate when I caused our sessions to stagnate.
Aronson's upper lip trembles as her eyes narrow on me. I focus on the sparse patches of black hairs dotting her chin and neck. "Allison--" She glares at me from over the tops of her glasses.
I snarl and lurch forward, slamming my fist onto the table. Pain shoots through my wrist and I wince, though I manage to remain focused on Aronson.
Out of the corner of my vision, Mara recoils, her brother's hand going around her arm and squeezing. Ever since David died, they hadn't been able to look at me. My blood boils and I whip my head toward them. "Didn't know you guys aspired to be geologists," I spit.
Mara's shoulders shake as she raises her head, throwing me a wet, pleading look. "What?" She gnaws on her lower lip. Sam throws an arm over her and brings her into him. Ever the protector.
"Yeah. What the fuck's that supposed to mean, Allison?" Smug satisfaction causes Sam to smirk.
Wanting to lessen his bravado, I throw my hands over my head and chuckle. He arches his eyebrows. "It's just," I begin. "that you've both become so interested in the marble here. Always staring at it. Figured it must have awakened a passion in you for rocks. Can't think of another reason why neither of you can look me in the goddamned face--"
Sam jettisons to his feet. The guards stiffen and step forward. Aronson shoos them back to their post. "You've become such a bitch!" Sam huffs, his face blotchy and red like it'd been submerged in liquid fire. "Ever since David's accidental death--"
Mara tugs on his sleeve. Sam freezes, mouth agape. His shoulders slump and whatever he'd meant to say next he swallows and returns to his seat.
I set my jaw and lean forward. "David was murdered," I say, my voice low. It takes everything I have to temper the anger with which I want to spit my words at him. "By Dove," My insides revolt as something slimy and thick rises in my throat. I swallow and continue. "By the very Law, you can't wait to become part of."
Mara shifts in her seat, her face flush, as she gropes at the fabric of her jacket.
....
Dr. Aronson sits back in her seat, her beady eyes studying my face. "David's death has affected everyone in this room." I stifle back a snort. With eyes that bird-like, guess you had to be perceptive. Either that or I hadn't been as collected as I'd thought.
I bring my hands together, giving her a single, slow clap. "Must have a doctorate in mind-reading, Aronson."
She quirks a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Not really," the corner of her lips swing upward. "I'm just aware of how selfish you are. And how capable a liar you've become." She leans forward. "To think you're the only one here to feel that loss," she tosses back her head. "How truly childish."
The others' gazes dart from one another. Aronson had never reprimanded me in our sessions before. Guess she really had gotten fed up with my shit. I shuffle my feet along the floor. "Whatever narrative you've constructed for yourself does not give you a right to lash out at your companions." She sniffs. "Allison."
All the venom seems to have been sapped from my bones. I can't bring myself to respond to the added insult tacking 'Allison' onto the end of her sentence had been meant to do. Aronson's smile blossoms across her face, wrinkles rippling out, until her face resembles a weathered map of mountain ranges and deep gorges. "Your closest ties," she turns from me to address everyone. "sit beside you." We all trade quick glances. I slump back into my chair, my mouth dry. "You will be all each other has once you graduate." At the last part, Mara's fingers trek up her jacket lapel and close around the gold dove pin.
"Our decisions have yet to be made," Jonathan pipes up.
Dr. Aronson turns toward him and her eyes soften. She smiles and nods. "You're right, but today, you will give the Law your answers."
"I hope you all have used this past week to think seriously about your decision."
"Graduate and you will become this country's future. You will watch over its people and under you, the FUA will flourish." Aronson puffs out her chest and beams at each of us, "To choose expulsion, Is to choose death. You will have your chips removed and will be exiled beyond the dome. where the earth is still recovering from our ancestors' hubris. A true wasteland where the only ones to survive it," she glances around and leans in, "are monsters," she says in a hushed voice.
After a finger scan and a few numbers are punched in, the door clicks open. Aronson makes toward the exit, The guards step toward us, slamming their guns into their palms.
Fingers wrap around my wrist. I look down at the hand, small and pale, shaking. I run my gaze up the length of the arm, wrapped in the navy blazer of our uniform. Mara. She shakes her head.
She stalks toward the door, the clip-clopping of her heels giving her words a melodic quality. Heavy and sullen - a dirge of sorts. "Mid-afternoon, you are to return to your rooms and prepare accordingly." The guard opens the door for her. She gives us one, last lingering glance. "For those of you Graduating, I look forward to your reign. Praise Dove."
With that, she wobbles out of the room, guards getting in line behind her. Left with each other, it only takes seconds for an uncomfortable pall to press down on us. Sin's the first to leave -- living up to his namesake -- though he does something unexpected before being swallowed up by the hallway. He pats me on the shoulder, digging his fingers into my skin. Not with enough pressure to hurt but with just enough to convey something. Sadness perhaps or guilt.
He doesn't say anything and disappears out of the room. Jonathan and Marava are a blur of flesh as they bolt toward the door. I'm left in their wake, a draft sweeping my bangs into my eyes. I didn't even get Marava's trademark grimace. Would they choose to stay?
I turn around. Sam straightens under my gaze. He snarls and stomps past me, latching on Mara's wrist and tugging her toward the door. I hadn't realized, but she'd still been next to me, fingers wrapped around my wrist.
"No," Mara says, shaking her head. Her gaze flits from Sam to me.
Sam shoots me daggers. "Fine, but don't take long."
Mara nods and Sam lumber past me. He's within an inch of my shoulder and for a second I think he'll barrel into me out of spite, but he doesn't. Not even a hushed swear falls out of his mouth. When had Sam learned restraint?
Finally, Mara looks up. "Can we talk?"
The bottom of my stomach drops out. I stiffen and give her a slight nod. "Sure."
She gives me another mirthless smile, and together, we exit the room.
...
We take turns perpetuating the silence between us as we walk, Mara taking deliberately long strides to maintain her distance. It's like she's trying to win a race, one I hadn't been made aware of. Still, though, I'd rather have this atmosphere, stifled and oppressive as it was, then the conversation that awaited us once we got wherever it was we were going.
The ghost of a smile lifts the corner of her mouth, and she's speeding ahead of me
As I pass under the archway, I find myself in front of two enormous glass doors. Triggered by some sort of sensor, they pull apart. Warm air, scented of lavender and pine flood my senses. Mara stands inside, back toward me, surrounded by a verdant forest of pine, maple, and oak. She looks at home surrounded by so much flora, like a fairy who'd finally found their storybook forest.
Trepidation comes in waves as I step over the threshold, my shoes squishing on what looks to be some kind of moss.
"Have you ever seen anything like it?" Mara turns to face me, a smile replacing the anger I'd caused moments earlier.
I shake my head, marveling at a nearby maple tree whose red leaves shiver in the cross breeze. At the tree's massive base, lemon-yellow daffodils bend and sway. "No," I say, pausing for breath.
My skin's dappled in what little light filters through the intersecting canopy of gnarled maple and oak branches overhead. I reach up and tug a star-shaped leaf-free. Turning it over in my palm, I examine its veiny underside. "Are these real?"
Mara nods toward a bench situated underneath a blossoming cherry tree. I make my way to it, drinking in the kaleidoscope of color - the drooping bluebells, nests of pale pink and cream roses, vibrant starburst tulips.
"How does this exist?" I plop beside Mara.
She smiles, letting her hand fall over the bench's railing to graze a pot of cascading ivy. "Remember learning about the Law's Environmental Preservation Act?"
I nod, watching as a cherry bloom twirls toward the ground. "Yeah, for that series of tests, I wrote all my answers as couplets." I crane my neck upward, tracing the winding branches with my finger. "Drove Mistress Ramona crazy." Mara chuckles and I turn to face her. "It made her even crazier that all my answers weren't wrong enough to warrant expulsion."
Mara nods. "I remember." She sets her hands in her lap and stares at the copse of bluish pines a few feet from us. "You got 90s," she smirks and rests her back against the tree's trunk. "I sulked for a whole week when I only averaged 97%."
I snort. "And how are you and Sam related again?"
She chuckles. "He gave me his pudding that week to cheer me up." Her face tenses, the smile wiped away. "When one of the Nutri-hawks got wind of the that, he got sent to the Reflection Room." Her hands tighten around the folds of her uniform."He always got in trouble protecting me."
Suddenly she bolts to her feet and makes her way toward a patch of flowers pregnant with bell-shaped flowers. Kneeling before them, she brings a bloom to her nose and breathes in. The scent coaxes a smile to her face, though this one too seems faint, ghostly, distant. "I never imagined such a place would exist in a Capitol building." She turns to me, letting the flower fall from her grasp. "They grow all sorts of plants here. There's an arid room," she points to the left, "for desert-type plants, and one with higher humidity for tropical ones." She stands and brushes off the front of her uniform. "I've dragged Sam here every day since I found out about it. We're both fond of plants."
"So the twins do have shared interests." I nod. "Makes sense, though. Given your name and all."
Mara blushes and grapples with her jacket sleeve.
I raise my eyebrow. "What?" Her brow furrows. "What is it?"
"You haven't called me by my name in a while." Whatever excitement she'd felt, drains from her face. Christ, when had I become the one who spits on someone's happiness? That was Marava's job, one she could do in her sleep and in spades.
I reach up and find myself scratching at the base of my neck, my finger grazing the edge of Izzer's chip. "I didn't think you'd want me to--"
Mara's head shoots up, her gaze defiant. "Why would you!" Her nose scrunches, her eyebrows knitting together. "You just--" her shoulders slump. "You just withdrew from everyone after--" her gaze darts toward a fountain grandstanding in the center of the room. Three marble doves perch on each other's shoulders, water pouring from opened beaks. "David." Her voice is barely a whisper.
I stride toward her, but she puts out a hand to stop me. She blinks, and I get the feeling she's trying to stem the flow of tears before they fall. "I've--" she bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. "No. We have decided to--"
"I know," I say, hoping my voice sounds as kind as I mean for it to sound.
Mara gapes. Her fingers go to her pin. "You do?"
"Yeah," I shake my head. "Had a feeling that would be your choice."
A tear runs down her cheek which she hurries to wipe away. "And you?" She takes a step toward me, breaching the gap between us, doing something I should have done days ago. Thirteen and more adult than I was, stronger than I was.
I turn around and take in a deep breath, let the fragrance of my surroundings fill me up. "I don't think I have a choice." Mara sidles up to me. "Honestly?" I reach out and this time, let my hand land on her head. I give her hair a little ruffle and sigh. "I think my choice was made for me the moment Dove aimed that gun."
Mara nods. "Did you love him?"
This was a question I'd obsessed over since David's death. If I said I didn't love him, it would make me look like an asshole, feel like one too. But the truth was, I hadn't been able to properly define my feelings for him before Dove had shot a bullet into his gut.
Settling on the only answer I knew to be true, I say, "Don't know." I shrug, attempting to stifle back the tightening in my chest. "I cared about him sure. Much like I carry about all of you." Mara raises her eyebrows. "Yes," I say, grinning. "Even Marava."
Suddenly, my mouth goes dry, the words I want to say a jumbled mess of nonsense. I try to piece them into something coherent. "I...knew him," I continue. "In a way that you guys hadn't. And--" I ball my hand into a fist. "And nowadays, I feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of his--" my voice trembles and cracks, "death."
I slap a self-deprecating smile to my face and snort. "Under the weight of everything, actually. Each corpse. Every single decision. From the moment I stepped outside of the Facility, I've felt everything pressing down on me."
More tears trek down Mara's face so I give her a little nudge. She didn't need to shed tears for me when I was capable of doing that myself. "I breathe the air because I know I need it to exist, but every time, my breaths feel a little more shallow. I'm left gasping." I drop my head. "Everything's so, so hard."