CHAPTER FOUR

Once I found a seat on the trolley, I wiped my hands on my skirt before waving goodbye to Mom. She’d offered to drive, but I’d declined. Her emotional ups and downs had already made me a wreck as it was, and in the few moments we had together walking to the trolley station she’d cried again. Then the instructions started: sit up straight, make eye contact, speak clearly, smile, and so on. The more she spoke, the more my stomach knotted.

None of her advice was for my future-self’s benefit, of course. Elle’s brother had already given me the rundown. Apparently EA government workers hazed all meeting attendees, especially ones with signs of decadence.

Rule 2.2: Those who do not learn from the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat it.

Maybe someone from the Emancipated Society dared to wear a flashy color around town, but I’d never seen anyone who remotely looked out of line. Since decadence had led to destruction, we’d been instructed via the handbook to live simple lives. That meant homemade clothing and shoes in natural colors, although I did have pink pajamas. No one accessorized, and a simple gold band symbolized those who were married. Hairstyles were neat and trim, and we wouldn’t dare waste electricity using blow dryers or curling irons of the past, if you could find one. Sometimes, on a special occasion, men wore white crisp shirts and black pants, and women could wear a floral print, which I did today.

I tried to push my fears aside. What did I have to be worried about? Nothing other than my best friend refused to tell me what happened during her meeting and then Blue Eyes, who’d appeared out of thin air, hands me the note, like all of it was an omen or something.

I stared at the other passengers on their way to the city and wondered why I wasn’t like other teens. No one seemed to care as much as I did. Elle said I was born responsible. Maybe that meant I’d do something great for Brighton in the future instead of being a typical homemaker. Though I didn’t mind sewing, cooking, gardening and cleaning, I did want to invent something cool. I guess I was like Dad in that sense. But still, adulthood or not, yesterday had been my last chance to be rebellious, ending today, March 1^st, when I awoke and flew past my leap year birth date once again.

To be honest, that’s what worried me the most. In all of Brighton, I’d never met anyone who’d had a birthday on February 29th. And annually, it created a problem. You’d think, in all their technical glory, the EA would count the years instead of the days and after March 1^st, I’d had to remind tech support to up my age in the system, and each year they gave me a hard time. Then when a February 29th would finally roll around, my birthday would revert back, counting only the February 29th’s in the system.

Imagine the joy when I turned sixteen only to be congratulated on turning four—publicly. And Landon never missed the opportunity to rub in how old I technically was. He’d be the first to wish me a happy five-and-a-half-years-old birthday when I went to Elle’s house later. Jerk face.

The trolley came to a halt, and the words Elected Agency Advice Center illuminated in blue on the wall. My stomach free-fell into my shoes, as a gentle computer voice warned riders to exit. I clutched my purse and watched the other teens move toward the exits. How easy it would be just to stay on the trolley and ride through the provinces instead.

Here goes nothing, I thought as I stood.

I recognized a set of twin guys from history classes online. They had buff shoulders and tanned faces, meaning they came from the southern farming province. None of them acknowledged me, which was fine. I had no plans on making friends today anyway. A long time ago, I’d decided to only befriend people in my province where I could interact with them in real life. It was too easy to be fake online and after the fiasco with Xander, I’d never trust anyone again.

As we neared the building doors, I slowed and let everyone else file in first. Inside, the heels of my shoes clicked against the tiles, echoing throughout the regal corridors. On the left hand wall were pictures of past United States presidents, some of them burned on the edges. On the right was a huge mural of Brighton, post zombie-apocalypse. Underneath were countless black and white photos of the destruction: fires, desolation, and the gruesome faces of the walking dead.

Our current President, Octavis Brighton, with his large brown eyes and white hair, hung over the doorway of the Advice Meeting office. Next to him was Vice President, Declan Wilderman. With silver hair and a bright white smile, I could have sworn he was wearing blush. Under their pictures said, “Welcome good citizens of Brighton. From the ashes we have risen: a strong and healthy nation. Long live Brighton.” Of the two, Vice President Wilderman’s judging eyes zinged into me, and I couldn’t escape him as I crossed the threshold. For the first time in my life, I hadn’t been a good citizen and the evidence lay burning against my skin, hidden inside my bra.

My fists clenched tight around my purse handle, and I questioned if I should have taken Blue Eyes’ advice. Maybe this was a mistake. Or maybe I should have flushed the evidence down the toilet. Why did I bring it here of all places?

Swallowing down my nerves, we walked into the office at the end of the hall. Everything was just like Mom described. Directly in front of me was the infamous wall lit with names. The ones in green had DOD watches plugged in next to them, and the ones in red were vacant. I quickly scanned the list while the twins walked up without hesitation and clicked their DOD watches into place. Doors on the opposite ends illuminated with their names, and they shrugged at one another, before disappearing inside. They acted as if they’d done this before. Why couldn’t I be just as confident?

I returned my gaze to the wall, as sweat dripped down the back of my bare legs. Reading and rereading, I still couldn’t find it. Of course, mine wasn’t listed. The lone girl next to me blew out an irritated breath and marched over to the window.

“Hello-o,” she said as she tapped on the glass with a long fingernail.

The young lady on the other side rolled her eyes and opened the window. “Find your name and plug in your time watch—” she started.

The girl perched her hand on her hip. “It’s not listed—”

“Is today your birthday?” the counter girl interrupted.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Annoyed, she tossed her black hair over her shoulder. “My name is Gillian McRaine with an E.”

The counter girl craned her neck to get a better look at the list on the wall. “I highly doubt there will be another Gillian McAnybody gracing our office today, thank the gods.” She plastered on a surly smile. “Just plug in your DOD and it’ll adjust itself.”

“You’d think after all these years, you’d spell my last name right.” The girl huffed dramatically before marching to the wall.

I knew all too well the mistakes in the EA computer systems. But like the counter girl said, the E magically appeared, but the name still remained stained blood red.

“It’s not changing,” she called out. When no one responded, she yelled louder, “It’s still red!”

A sappy, sweet voice rang from the speakers in the ceiling, “As stated in the rules, once your Compliment is ready, your name will turn green and your meeting room doorway will illuminate. Until that time, I suggest you take a seat and wait.”

The girl rolled her eyes and frowned at the speaker. Instead of sitting, she leaned against the wall and studied her nails, mumbling something under her breath.

The back of my neck heated, as I read and reread the names on the list. Mine was missing altogether. Did my Compliment show yesterday? Or forgo the whole thing all together. Was Blue Eyes right? Or worse, was this when I’d find out I’d died before turning thirty-eight? That I was really a Glitch? My heart pounded at the thought and I cursed my future self for doing this to me.

Lost with what to do, I took a seat and waited while Gillian stared at me. Yesterday, I’d double-checked my thirty-eighth birthday and found it wasn’t a leap year. Where was she?

The horror that I might be a Glitch returned and rushed through me once again. In those cases, the EA basically faked their DOD results until the meeting. No. I refused to believe it. Following the rules religiously, I was guaranteed a long life.

Gillian’s heated stare continued to pelt me, adding to my nerves. Too scared to ask for help, I played with my nails and wished my name would appear already. The urge to get up and walk out plagued me. Maybe Blue Eyes was trying to save me the embarrassment. Maybe I should just leave. Then the idea hit me. Compliments obviously didn’t wait for a name to be listed, they’d just plug in their watch. My birthday had to be throwing off the system. So without hesitation, I walked over and popped my watch into an empty slot. My name appeared in yellow. Then to my horror, an alarm sounded.

Gillian laughed under her breath. “Idiot.”

I tried to pull the watch from the wall when the window to my right flew open.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the counter girl exclaimed.

Flames hit my cheeks. “I—” A logical excuse wouldn’t come out, other than I’d rather die than ask her why my name wasn’t on the list to begin with. “—didn’t want to disturb you.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, motioning me over with her finger. “Do you make a habit of sticking your DOD into anything you please? Hmmm?” As she typed something into her computer, my name grayed out on the wall and the alarm stopped.

Up close, I noted the counter girl hid her youth under heavy black eyeliner. Rule 9.1: Make-up shouldn’t be used to hide one’s natural beauty and is discouraged. She had to be only a few years older than me.

“Didn’t you hear me tell the girl before you what to do?”

“Yes, but…” I stammered, embarrassed. “My name wasn’t on the list.”

She shook her head and tsked. “That’s because today isn’t your birthday.”

“No, it was actually—yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” The girl chuckled. “Honey, you get one chance for advice and that’s on your birthday. No exceptions.”

I cleared my throat. “But my birthday is February 29th. I was told to come today…”

She wrinkled her nose. “There are only twenty-eight days in February.”

I withheld my huff, trying not to be rude, but I was losing my patience. “Not when there’s a leap year.”

It took a moment before understanding lit her face. “Oh, right. Leap year.” She pinched her lips together and returned her attention to her computer screen. “I thought they would have stopped that by now,” she mumbled.

What could she have possibly meant by “stopped”? They couldn’t just do away with the day.

I tried to keep my hands still while she tapped more buttons and kept exhaling as if I were an inconvenience. Wasn’t she here to help me, the customer?

Her face hardened as she typed harder, then she swiveled in her chair and yelled down the hall, “Grace! Could you come here for a minute?”

Another woman in her thirties approached.

“Okay, so,” Counter Girl began, “apparently, Ms. Masterson was born on February 29th, so she’s not listed to come in today and—” She pointed to something on the screen.

I pursed my lips at how she made my birth date sound like it was my fault.

“Oh,” Grace said with a smile, “we had someone just yesterday with the same situation. Their Compliment had the sense to show on the same day, though. Seems to crop up every few years and quite frankly, I enjoy the extra day off.”

At the mention of another sharing my birthday, my head jerked up. “Who?” I blurted.

Grace’s smile melted. “Oh, now, sweetie, you know I can’t tell you that. If they’re in your circle, you’d know them already.”

My lip stiffened as her focus went back to the computer. The only person in my circle to have a leap year birthday was me. I swallowed hard. Then her face darkened.

“Let me drive.” Grace had Counter Girl move aside, then she smiled at me. “I’ll have this fixed in a jiff. Just take a seat.”

She shut the glass window before I could respond.

I walked away and took a seat as their muffled conversation continued. More women joined around Counter Girl’s computer, all gawking and pointing to the screen. I felt naked. What were they looking at? Was my life on display for all of them to see? All my conversations? My texts? My phone calls? My run-in with Blue Eyes?

My cheeks heated remembering back to Xander’s racy texts. My parents pulled me into Dad’s office and that was the day I learned my texts weren’t confidential. The horror that my parents knew exactly what Xander had fantasized was way beyond mortifying. Were they reading them now? Every last naughty word?

Then a man dressed in a black suit appeared and eyed me with disgust like I was a zombie. I stared back, trying to keep my chin up. I wouldn’t allow him to intimidate me, whoever he was. Honestly, I had nothing to hide, except the slip of paper in my bra. Blue Eyes’ warning danced in my head. Maybe he wasn’t a plant and knew this would happen. Knew something I didn’t.

Dark Suit waved his hand to Grace. I read his lips. “Just do it.”

Do it? Do what? The crowd vanished and within seconds my name and Gillian’s turned green. My heart leapt.

“Good luck.” Gillian smirked as she disappeared behind the door.

Luck? I needed something stronger than Luck.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 646