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The proctor at our table pulled out eight pale blue folders and passed one to each of us.
“This folder contains everything you’ll need to complete your assessment. The instructions are self-explanatory, but I will give you a quick summary before you begin.”
Her instructions were low and monotonous. I wondered how many times she had repeated these same words over the years and whether she wished she could retake the test herself. She certainly didn’t seem to be too thrilled with her career placement.
“The contents of each folder at this table are varied, so it will do you no good to examine your neighbor’s work. There are no right or wrong answers, so please respond with what seems most appropriate to you.”
Students at the other tables were all receiving similar instructions. Collectively, they all seemed to be a bit more relaxed, and I was also able to breathe more easily with the folder in my hands. The results of the test seemed like a distant worry, one I didn’t have to concern myself with right then. All I had to do at that moment was shuffle through this unintimidating stack of papers.
“Section one contains sets of images and various tasks associated with them. Section two contains patterns and word associations. Section three will assess your spatial reasoning, and the final section is a personality assessment. Answer the questions as honestly as you can. Does anyone have any questions?”
We exchanged silent glances around the table.
“Very well then. You may begin.”
I pulled the stack of papers from my folder and caught the eye of a man lined up along the wall beside our table. Surprisingly, he did not avert his gaze when I looked in his direction. I turned back to the papers on the table before me, suddenly very self-conscious as I picked up my pen and tried to focus on the words on the page.
I filled out my personal information on the first page and snuck a glance from the corner of my eye. He was still watching. Breathing faster, I scanned the other proctors along the walls. They all kept their eyes moving across the crowd as a whole. So what was this guy’s problem? Why was he zeroed in on me?
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and forged ahead.
Section One: Review the following images, and write what you see in the blank provided.
I paused, staring at the first image on the page. The abstract splatters of ink reminded me of a flock of geese flying south in a V. The second image was muddled with blues and greens. I thought of summers swimming in the creek with Sela. I smiled, and looked over to see how my friend was doing. Her nose was down, and her pen was scratching furiously across the page. I looked back to my own test, wondering if I should be writing more for each image as well.
Focus, Claren. The third image gave me pause. At first I saw nothing. Then, without warning, my mind processed it into an image I never wanted to see again. It was an uneven splatter of blackness, and memories flooded my mind, threatening to pull me under. It was the blood I saw on our kitchen floor the night mom was killed. My throat constricted as I unsuccessfully tried to push the memory away.
Cato and I had walked through the front door, still panting and breathless from the race we’d just run. Dad was sitting at the table, pale as a sheet, staring silently into nothingness. Cato asked him what was wrong, and then we saw it. Blood so thick it was almost black, puddled on the floor. We never found her body. I couldn’t bear to think what the Outsiders may have done with it.
My stomach rolled, threatening to reveal the eggs I’d eaten for breakfast. I looked straight up, allowing the fluorescent lights above to blur my vision. Maybe if I stared long enough they would burn that memory for me too.
Using the back of my sleeve, I wiped the tears pooling around my lids and allowed the green silhouette of the lights that had burned into my field of vision slowly fade away. Once my sight was fully intact again, I saw him. The man against the wall had completely turned his body toward me. He wasn’t even trying to hide his gaze anymore. No one else seemed to notice or care, and I tried not to panic. Maybe he had seen my strange behavior after that last question, and he was simply concerned. Either way, I wanted to finish the test as quickly as possible so I could get far away.
I hastily wrote “ink” by the third image and moved on, turning the page so I wouldn’t have to see it anymore. The next handful of images seemed innocent. I filled in short, lighthearted descriptions and turned to the next section.
Section Two: There are seven differences between each of the following sets of images. Circle ONLY the first difference you spot in each set.
Simple enough.
The first page contained two drawings of a boy with his cat. The cat was in a tree, while the boy stood down below. In the first image, they appeared to be playing a game. Both the boy and the cat were enjoying themselves. In the second image, the cat appeared to be stuck in the tree, and the boy was distressed.
The differences were subtle, but I felt the emotion jump off of the page through their eyes. How could I circle an emotion? I saw all of it at once, and I wasn’t sure how to circle just one thing. I settled on the boy’s eyebrows and continued to the next image.
As I worked my way through the section, I felt more and more of the distress in the photos. After the last image, I set my pen on the table and readjusted in my seat. My shoulders were tense, and I twisted and turned to loosen them up.
Everyone else in the gym was at ease now, each settled into their own rhythm as they worked through the pages of the test. The man on the wall was still looking in my direction, but even he seemed more relaxed. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to slow my pulse as well, but it only quickened. I scanned the room, wondering why my heart wouldn’t slow down.
A sharp movement caught my attention. A boy two tables away moved his hand to the bag draped over the back of his chair. The rest of his body remained facing forward, and his right hand continued to work his exam. But his left hand was gripping the bag so hard his knuckles were white. My heartbeat was almost deafening in my ears.
I saw the boy’s muscles flex as his body tensed, and I could feel his adrenaline as though it was coursing through my veins instead of his. His left hand fumbled with the closure of his bag, and as he worked to get it open, I saw the handle of a knife fall to the edge. He dropped his pen, placing his right hand on the table, and time seemed to shift into slow motion.
I scooted my chair out as I saw him push his body away from the table. My feet were moving before he could turn to fish the blade from his bag, and I heard the yell escape my lips before I could process how my body was in motion.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Every eye in the room turned towards us as he pushed me away with his forearm. I didn’t recognize him from school, and the faint creases on his face told me he wasn’t an eighteen year old here for his aptitude test. But he couldn’t have been much older than us. Those lines were the results of heartache and stress and battles I would never know.
The knife was in his hand, but he didn’t move to hurt me. Instead, he pleaded with his eyes for me to get out of his way. This was not a bad man. But he was certainly about to do a bad thing.
“Get back,” he said through his teeth.
His arms moved forward defensively, the knife a clear sign to the proctors surrounding us now that he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. He began to edge forward slowly to the podium, speaking in a loud, clear voice.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I have something to say.” He continued to the front of the gym, the circle of proctors shifting with him as he made his way forward. Students along the path ran to the walls of the gym or cowered in their seats, too stunned to move. He turned back and forth slowly as he walked, light glinting off the blade in his hand. His breathing was heavy, but his body moved gracefully ahead. At last, he reached his destination and took the microphone into his free hand.
“Next week you all will be assigned to jobs you may or may not want.” His eyes danced frantically as he scanned the room. His speech was quick and rough. “But I want you to know you have another option. You don’t have to live the lives they assign you. You can be free.”
He smiled wildly at the podium, but his audience didn’t follow suit. Muffled sobs came from along the walls, and most students were too afraid to look forward.
“We can show you the way. Tomorrow night at...”
Screams filled the air as the man’s body collapsed to the ground. A single shot had been fired from the doors leading into the gym. Emmaline Frasier stood there in her suit, a gun in her hand, and not a hair out of place on her blond head.
I choked down the vomit in my mouth. This couldn’t be real. Guns were outlawed after the Great War. Even the Protectors only carried stun guns.
Chaos broke out around the edges of the room. The entire gym rang out with a mixture of cries and screams as the students reacted to the impossible scene they’d just witnessed.
Emmaline turned and spoke to two of the proctors near the exit. They stepped in front of the doors, and she walked forward to the podium. Stepping over the man’s legs, she grabbed the microphone from the floor where he fell.
“Please remain calm,” she said to the crowd. “What we just witnessed was a tragic example of what the Outside can do to a man. I can’t bring myself to think about what kind of horrible things that he may have done if we hadn't stopped him. I wish from the bottom of my heart that it didn’t have to come to this.”
The noise in the room quieted from almost deafening to a light buzz as everyone tried to breathe and listen to Ms. Frasier. Reflections of the overhead lights glinted off of tear-streaked cheeks from every angle.
“I have alerted the Protectors, and they will be escorting you all home. We have Counselors on standby if any of you need to process what just took place. Otherwise, please go home and rest. We will resume the tests tomorrow at 9:00 A.M.”
She hesitated, looking down briefly at the body on the floor. “I’m glad you’re all safe. Now let’s focus on the future and forget the past. For the Greater Good!”
“For the Greater Good.” Our response was much less enthusiastic this time.
My feet remained still, cemented to the ground as the scene unraveled around me. Groups of students huddled in corners and around the tables, comforting one another. There were both whispers and shouts, tears and excitement as the students recounted their unique viewpoints of the situation. Several Protectors had arrived, and they placed a large tarp over the body on the floor. My heart ached as I remembered his eyes urging me to stay back.
Sela was sitting against the wall near our table, face red and cheeks wet with tears. Finally able to move, I turned to rush toward her, but a hand grabbed my arm and stopped me. It was the same man who had been watching me during my test.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go,” he said. “Come with me.”