I BLINK, TRYING to clear the inky darkness from my eyes, but to no avail. Whatever light the narrow bedroom window provided is now gone. I can see nothing.
My heart pounds. Michal said the upper-level students would challenge us to assess our skills and our personalities. An Induction he called it. Well, let the Induction begin.
In the darkness, I can hear female voices calling for help. I stretch my hands out in front of me as I creep across the unfamiliar sitting room, looking for the exit. Pain sings up my leg as my shin connects with something hard. Probably the bottom of a chair. My hands rub the injured area, but at least now I know where I am.
Cautiously, I inch my way across the room. The wall greets my fingers, and I slide them across the smooth surface until they find the door. My hand closes around the knob. Locked. I try to flip the deadbolt. It won’t budge. Disappointment is quickly replaced by chagrin. Surely I didn’t expect this test to be that easy.
Leaning against the wall, I think through the goal of this challenge. Ian’s final instructions were that we must be downstairs in time for lunch. So, while I might be able to splice wires and use the Transit Communicator’s solar cells to illuminate the room, creating a light source isn’t the point. Escape is. To escape I need to open the door. To open the door I need . . . what?
Once again, my fingers probe the area around the doorknob as I try to learn what I can about the lock. I’d been too focused on the rooms themselves to notice how the door was constructed. If I make it past this test, I vow, I won’t make that same careless mistake again.
The wood is scarred but smooth. My fingers run over the lock. I think it’s a single-cylinder deadbolt. A key opens the lock from the outside. The latch mechanism opens it from here—only the lock isn’t working. For a moment, I wonder if the deadbolt is the only lock holding this door in place or if something more is keeping it shut. Ian warned me not to be late for lunch. That warning implies the possibility of an on-time arrival. Since the lights went out about an hour before we need to be downstairs, I assume the locking mechanism must be simple in order for me to meet that expectation.
The rumble of thunder makes me jump. Taking a deep breath, I search the other side of the door with my hands and smile into the darkness. The door is hung with old-fashioned pin hinges. The same kind my family uses back in Five Lakes. Five years ago, my brothers locked me into our bedroom. They said I had to tell them all how smart and handsome they were before they let me out. While they made jokes on the other side of the door, I popped the hinge pins and came strolling out with the threat that I’d tell Mom if they didn’t do my chores for seven days. If I have my way, today will be no less triumphant.
Careful to avoid getting another bruise, I inch my way to the bedroom and picture the layout of the space. I walk to where I think the desk should be. There. I yank open the top right drawer and close my fingers over the pocketknife given to me by my father. The knife is complete with a blade, file, screwdriver, and other tools. Several of those should come in handy now.
I make my way back to the door and flip open the pocketknife, feeling for the right tool. The file, with its flat pointed edge, worked when I was twelve, and it does the trick now. I work the tip of the tool under the pin and use the file as a lever to pry up the metal rod. One down. I climb on a chair to get a better angle on the top hinge, and it isn’t long before I am placing the pin in my pocket and hopping down. Wedging the file between the door and the frame, I wince as a splinter lodges into my thumb. But within minutes, I work the door free.
The hallway lights are off, probably to ensure we couldn’t use the sliver of light they’d provide under the door to aid us in our task. However, the dim glow near the staircase, probably light from the first floor, makes it easy to navigate the path to the steps. Aside from my own, no doors are open. Banging and the sounds of muffled cries tell me my fellow female students are still working to pass this Induction.
I stop at the second floor and glance up and down the hall. Two doors open. The rest are closed—although, judging by the sound of cracking wood, one more will be open soon. Not sure how much time remains before the deadline, I make my way to the brightly lit first floor. A fire still crackles in the hearth of the hangout room, but no one is there to enjoy the warmth. Rain pelts the windows, and for an instant, lightning brightens the world outside. A clock over the mantel tells me I have arrived with ten minutes to spare. I take a minute to run my fingers through my hair and smooth down my shirt before straightening my shoulders and walking to the dining room. When my feet hit the threshold, dozens of people applaud.
Near the back, Ian is standing and gesturing me toward him. I weave around tables while looking for familiar faces. Will is not here. Neither is Rawson. But I spot two faces I recognize from the meeting where we were assigned our guides: the first-year student with no hair named Griffin, who watches me with a fierce intensity, and the slight, curly-haired boy named Enzo. His face is thin and narrow. His smile warm and angelic. Trustworthy. Since both he and Griffin finished this test before me, I plan on keeping a close eye on both of them. Just in case.
Ian tells me to take a seat between him and a pretty girl with a sleek braid running down her back. When I’m seated, the room falls quiet and all eyes shift from me to the door as they await the next successful first year.
All eyes but Ian’s. His are stilled fixed on me. Leaning close he whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I whisper back.
“I bet Jenny you’d be the first female student to arrive.” Ian grins over my head at the girl seated beside me. “She’s got to do my laundry for the next two weeks.”
“I suck at laundry,” Jenny says under her breath. “He’ll be lucky if his underwear comes back in one piece.”
“As long as I don’t have to clean them, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ian looks at the clock. “Seven minutes left. I have to think at least one or two more first years will make it downstairs before the limit.”
Jenny smiles. “You want to go double or nothing on that?”
Before Ian can take her up on the offer, a red-faced blond boy appears in the entrance, and the room breaks out in applause. From the hulking girth of the boy and the way sweat pours down his face, I’m guessing he was the one using brute force, not guile, to get through his door. Just before time expires, two more first years make it through the door—one boy, one girl. They come in together, both looking winded and disheveled.
A buzzer goes off as the clock strikes noon. The first challenge is over.
“What happens to the first years who didn’t make it out of their rooms?” Ten are missing, including Will and Rawson. Too many to warrant an extreme punishment. I hope.
“We starve them,” Ian says with a serious expression as the kitchen staff bring out platters of food. The smell of roasted meat fills the air, making my stomach yearn for sustenance even as it swirls with anxiety. The concern I feel must show in my face, because Ian laughs and says, “Don’t worry—it isn’t for very long. As soon as everyone down here is served, the locks on their doors will open.” Ian stabs at a chicken leg and passes the platter to me.
“So, they just have to wait for us to start eating?” Not such a bad punishment, I think as I put a slice of meat in front of me.
“They also have to clean the dishes after everyone is done.” This from Jenny, who takes the plate of chicken. “You should be glad you got here before time was out. When motivated, we can make quite a mess.”
The other students sitting at the table laugh, but the amusement isn’t malicious. They remind me of my brothers, teasing me and my friends whenever they got the chance. Which always seemed to coincide with my mother being out of the room. Aside from the kitchen staff, I don’t see anyone who isn’t a student in the dining hall. While most things here in Tosu City are different from what I grew up with, it’s nice to know that some are the same.
Ian nudges me and hands me a plate filled with some kind of cooked greens. “You’ll also be meeting with Dr. Holt in the order you arrived in the dining hall.” The tone Ian uses is light, but the way he holds my gaze tells me this is an important advantage. One I should not discount.
Aside from Jenny and Ian, four other students are seated at our table—three male, one female. Despite my success with the first Induction test, none of them gives me more than a fleeting glance. I’m starting to ask Ian for an introduction when the rest of the first years arrive.
Some look angry. Others appear nervous as they walk to the seats their guides have reserved for them. Will catches my eye and gives me a wide grin before taking his seat. Of all of the students, he looks the least flustered by the day’s developments. His hair is perfectly slicked back. His shirt is tucked in. Not a hint of strain shows around his bright green eyes. Perhaps it is his ability to mask his true feelings that prompted University administrators to direct Will into Government Studies.
It’s a skill the two first years at my table could learn from. The puffy redness around Kaleigh’s eyes speaks volumes about the distress she experienced during the blackout. Raffe is better at keeping his emotions off his face, but his clenched fists tell their own story. A scan of the room tells me that all unsuccessful Tosu City first years are still working to regain their composure. Though the inequality between the different methods used to choose Tosu City and colony students for the University still grates, I’m forced to admit that those of us from the colonies have an advantage over the others. Our Testing memories might have been erased, but we are still the same people who used our skills, intelligence, and wits to survive.
Conversation gets louder. Older students lament cramming for examinations or difficult assignments. Others quip that they’re thankful they don’t have to do the dishes as they smear the last vestiges of their meals around on their plates. From the mess I see at my table, I’m thankful too. The first years at my table don’t talk. We eat. We watch. We listen.
“Enzo Laznar.”
Conversation ceases, and we all turn toward a young, purple-clad University official who stands in the doorway. Enzo rises. Here and there, I see Tosu City first years whispering to one another. Enzo is stopped by the massive-looking boy next to him, who says something I can’t make out. Whatever he says has Enzo nodding before he heads out the door with the official. A moment later, the dining hall once again buzzes with laughter.
“Was Enzo the first to come downstairs?” I ask Ian. Because of his size and intimidating demeanor, I had assumed Griffin was the first.
“Enzo arrived two minutes ahead of Griffin. You came in five minutes after that. You’ll be called to meet with Professor Holt after Griffin has talked to her.”
Turning toward Raffe and Kaleigh, Ian adds, “The students who didn’t make the time deadline will be called at the end in alphabetical order. Professor Holt will ask all three of you a few questions. Then she’ll hand you your class schedule. No big deal.”
I hope not, because fifteen minutes later, my name is called. I follow the purple-clad official to one of the small libraries. Two gray armchairs face each other. Professor Holt is seated in one. She gestures for me to sit opposite. When the man in purple leaves, she says, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Malencia. Although, I’ve heard people call you Cia. Which do you prefer?”
“My friends call me Cia.”
Professor Holt smiles. “Well, first let me congratulate you on your performance in the final Early Studies examination. Your scores were quite impressive. I hope you do as well in your regular classes when they begin next week.” She takes a sheet of gray recycled paper off the table next to her. “Because of your high examination marks, your class list is more challenging than the others. Please let me, your guide, or one of the other faculty know if you feel overwhelmed by the work you are being given. We are here to teach, but, more important, we are here to help.”
Professor Holt pauses. Since no question has been asked, I simply nod my understanding. Giving me another smile, the professor says, “In addition to your classroom studies, you’ll also be assigned an internship that will, alongside your book learning, teach you how best to achieve success in your future career. Juggling both can be a challenge. Once again, if you have any difficulties handling that challenge, please let us know so we can alter your workload in a manner that will best benefit you, the University, and the United Commonwealth.”
If I hadn’t seen Obidiah after Redirection, if I hadn’t listened to my own recollections of The Testing, I’d feel reassured by her words. I would believe the expression of maternal concern on Professor Holt’s face. But I did see, and the words on the recorder are etched in my memory. No matter what the course load, I will not complain. More, I will not fail.
My resolve almost cracks as Professor Holt hands me my schedule. During our Early Studies semester, every student was assigned five courses. This schedule has me attending nine.
Professor Holt leans forward. “I know the schedule looks intimidating.”
Yes. But I’m not foolish enough to admit my concern. “I’m excited to see science and math classes. I assumed those were courses reserved for Biological and Mechanical Engineering students.”
Professor Holt’s eyes meet mine. “Those who depend fully on another person’s knowledge to decide what is possible are easily manipulated. The most effective leaders utilize experts from all fields, but rely on none when it comes to making a decision. I think you will find your excellence in math and science will be more useful in your selected career path than you might have believed.”
The thought makes me smile.
“Do you have any other questions?” she asks. When I shake my head no, the professor reaches for an ornate gold bell on the small table next to her and gives it a ring. “I hope you enjoy your new residence and class schedule, Ms. Vale. And please remember, I am always here if ever you need assistance.”
The purple-clad official appears at the doorway, signaling more clearly than the bell that the meeting is at an end. After thanking the professor for her time, I head for the door. It isn’t until I’m headed back up the stairs to my rooms that I realize that Professor Holt used only my last name as she said goodbye. Not Cia. Was that a deliberate choice? I believe so. Professor Holt is leaving it to me to determine whether she is a friend or if she is my foe.
The door to my rooms is back on its hinges. Whatever they used to cover my window is gone. The Transit Communicator and the rest of my belongings are where I put them before the lights went out. The only difference is the envelope, stamped with my symbol, lying on the sitting room table. Inside the envelope are two pieces of paper, a small solar watch, and a gold key. One paper is a schedule that tells us what times the dining hall opens and closes for meals. It also says the kitchen has snacks and water available throughout the day for those who cannot make it to mealtimes.
I put the schedule on the table, unfold the second piece of paper, and read:
Government leaders must be prepared for all things at all times. For the next week, your suitability for this field of study will be tested. We hope you are ready to become one of us.—The final year Government Studies students
I try the key on the outside door lock and find it to be a perfect fit. Putting the key in my pocket, I pick up the black solar watch. It is two inches in diameter. Silver solar storage panels around the face of the watch power the glowing hands in the center. A button on the back allows the user to change the time. Another operates an alarm. I compare the time on the watch to the clock in my rooms. They are a perfect match. As long as I keep the solar cells charged, I will have the correct time, no matter what test the final years throw at us.
Turning the watch over in my hands, I try to guess what those tests could be. Michal said they change from year to year, so using his experience will not help me, but thinking of him brings back a memory from just before the start of The Testing, when we first arrived in Tosu City. Michal warned me to keep my things with me at all times. Advice I heeded. Since the note suggests I be prepared for anything at any time, I decide to follow that same advice now.
Walking into the bedroom, I put my class list on the desk and grab my University bag. I attach the watch to the strap of the bag so the solar cells will be more likely to collect power. Inside the bag I place a change of clothes, an extra pair of socks, and Zeen’s Transit Communicator. Then I try to decide what else I might need. My pocketknife. A towel. Finally, a pencil and the note find their way into my bag. Then I hoist the bag onto my shoulder and head downstairs. It is time to do what Ian suggested earlier. If I want to be as prepared as possible, I have to get to know my fellow students. It’s time to make friends.
A dozen students are in the fireplace room. Only a few of them are first years. The rest must still be cleaning up from lunch. Those first years present are holding class schedules in their hands, which makes me think they’ve yet to return to their rooms. I wonder if it is the desire for company or the fear of containment that has them seated here now. Looking around, I spot a solitary figure seated on a faded yellow sofa in the back corner and walk over.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” I ask.
Enzo’s dark eyes rise up to meet mine. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
Not exactly a warm reception, but I sit anyway and notice a bandage on his left thumb. “I’m Cia Vale.”
“I know.” Enzo glances around the room and looks down at his class schedule.
A quick scan of the room tells me why. All the Tosu City first years are watching with narrowed eyes. Maybe making friends isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. Still, the fact that Enzo is sitting here in the corner by himself leads me to believe he is not close with his Tosu compatriots. If I can get him alone, he might be willing to chat.
Standing, I lift my bag onto my shoulder and look at the paper in his hand. “The rain has stopped. I’m going to go out for some fresh air.” Lowering my voice, I add, “They left notes in everyone’s room. The message doesn’t give much of a clue as to what they plan on doing with us for the next week, but you might want to check it out.”
Without waiting for a response, I head for the exit, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as I walk out. While I have only been at the Government Studies residence for a few hours, escaping the pressure-filled building makes me sag with relief. The sky is tinged with gray and yellow—signs the storms are not over quite yet. I close my eyes, breathe in the damp air, and smile. The smell of the wet earth and trees helps me imagine that I am home in Five Lakes. In our backyard, sitting on my mother’s wooden bench, listening to the sound of the wind through the trees.
Longing and hopelessness snake through me. Tears prick the backs of my eyes. The desire to be with my family, to return to a time before I was selected for The Testing and still believed that our leaders were kind and fair, is overwhelming.
I walk across the wet grass to a small grove of weeping willows. The trees are tall. Old. The bark under my fingers, rough and brittle. The branches more twisted than those on the trees my father and brothers have planted back home. By their size, I would guess several of these are at least fifty years old, which means they were planted before the new strain of willow was created. The most recent version bettered the tree’s absorption of nutrients from the blighted soil. But even before that improvement, the willows thrived. Of all the trees, they were the most resilient after the Seven Stages of War. Even where the soil was most corrupt, the willow found a way to survive.
After taking the knife out of my bag, I strip part of the bark away from the tree and shove it into the side pocket of my bag. The salicylic acid in the bark can be used to help reduce headaches. After seeing my class list, I have a feeling I am going to need it.
“Why did you tell me about the note?”
I jump and spin around to face a belligerent-looking Enzo. So immersed was I in the memories of home, I missed the sounds of his approach. Or maybe he is just that light on his feet.
“I thought you might want to know it was there.” The suspicion narrowing his eyes makes me add, “It’s not like you weren’t going to find it at some point.” Enzo concedes the idea with a shrug, and I notice the bag hanging from his shoulder. Giving him a smile, I ask, “How did you get out of your locked room so fast today? My guide said you beat me by seven minutes.”
This makes Enzo smile. “I detached the hinges with this.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a thin, sharp knife. Dr. Flint is the only person I’ve ever witnessed using one. A scalpel. Clearly, Government wasn’t Enzo’s first choice either.
“Is that how you cut yourself?”
He looks down at his hand and frowns. “Yeah. I was reaching up to detach the top hinge. I figured moving a chair would take too much time.”
Time I had to take because of my short stature. While Enzo isn’t tall, he stands five inches above me. “Were your friends upset with you for getting through the locked door first? They didn’t seem all that social.”
Enzo stiffens. “Just because we all come from Tosu City doesn’t make us friends. Are you friends with everyone in your colony?”
I laugh. “We might not all be best friends in Five Lakes Colony, but we are cordial. When you only have a thousand people, it’s easier if you all at least act like you get along.” I wait for the surprise I normally see when someone hears what colony I’m from, but it doesn’t come. “You already knew I was from Five Lakes.”
“Part of our Early Studies was to study not only the colonies but the students they sent to Tosu who would be attending the University with us.” His smile is grim. “We may not have set foot onto campus until today, but our instructors have made sure we know about you.”
“Why? And where were you studying?” Were they kept away from campus because we would have wondered why they weren’t part of The Testing? Or did the University officials want us separated for as long as possible to keep us off balance when we finally met?
“We met for test preparation and our entrance exam at a school near the Central Government Building. And we studied you because our instructors wanted us to know our competition.”
“I thought the point of being here was to learn for ourselves, and to learn how best to work together to help our country. Where a person comes from doesn’t matter.”
“If you believe that, you’re not as smart as our instructor thought.” I see anger flash in Enzo’s eyes before he looks off toward the clouds that are darkening once again. And I find myself wondering what part of Tosu City Enzo is from. The clean, repaired section United Commonwealth officials helped us explore during the weeks immediately after The Testing or the side streets filled with shadows that I caught glimpses of. Is he one of the students Michal said is more dangerous because he had to fight harder to get here?
Rain continues throughout the day and evening, which keeps all but those who have to attend class inside where it is dry. While I make attempts to converse with several other Tosu City first years, no one gives me more than monosyllabic answers before turning away. The older students aren’t much friendlier, claiming they don’t have time to talk. Michal’s directives to make friends and identify potential upper-year rebels aren’t going to be as easy to follow as he made them seem.
During dinner, Ian asks Raffe, Kaleigh, and me about our class schedules. Raffe has six classes. Kaleigh five. When I say nine, the conversation at our table stops. The upper-level students give me speculative looks before resuming their dinners. Ian just smiles and tells us all to let him know if we have problems with our class load, but I catch the concern on his face in the glances he casts me throughout dinner. No longer hungry, I push my plate away.
Will finds me in my room after dinner. He too has found conversation difficult among the other first years, but it doesn’t appear to bother him.
“If they want to be jerks about it, so much the better.” He laughs and settles into one of the chairs in my sitting room. “It’ll make it more satisfying when we get better jobs after graduation.”
Will has six classes on his schedule and has sneaked glimpses of several other students’ course loads. Thus far, the highest number he’s seen is seven, which doesn’t do anything to still the growing sense of dread I feel as we wait for whatever task the final years have planned next.
Will also tells me what he’s learned about the other first years assigned to his guide, Sam. “Olive thinks a whole lot of herself. Probably because she’s the daughter of Tosu City’s Power and Efficiency manager. A fact she’s reminded everyone at our table of at least a dozen times.”
Will rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but laugh. In Five Lakes, there isn’t much call for power management.
“Griffin doesn’t say a whole lot,” Will continues. “But I’m guessing his family must be pretty connected. Olive giggles at anything he says, and the upper years make a point to say hello whenever they come near.”
I wonder if Ian knows who Griffin is related to and if he’d be willing to share that information. When Will asks about Ian’s other two first years, I admit I don’t know much. “I think Kaleigh’s mother might be a University administrator.” During dinner Kaleigh complained about her class assignments, but assured everyone that the mistake would be dealt with the minute she could visit her mother’s office. Whoever made the error was going to be sorry. “Raffe’s father works in the Department of Education.” Which I only learned because two of the other students at our table mentioned it. From the way they talked, it was clear they were scared of whatever power Raffe’s father wields.
When Will leaves, I go to sleep without changing clothes and dream of home. My mother bakes my favorite cinnamon bread. My brothers and I play cards at the kitchen table while my father sits nearby, poring over reports. Zeen wins a hand, opens his mouth, and shrieks. I jolt awake to the sound of sirens and a voice yelling down the hall for everyone to get out of bed. We need to be downstairs, ready to go, in five minutes. The next phase of our Induction is about to begin.