Fast-Tracked (5 page)

If you found a green paper it meant you were in the thirtieth percentile range and would be trained for a low-skilled labor position. The housing was a little roomier, there was some variety to the rations, and if you were careful with your income allotment, you could eventually save up for a nicety or two.

Every additional ten percent earned a higher level, and consequently the things allotted to you became nicer. Brown was the fortieth percentile and meant you would be trained in an average-skill level labor position. Red was for high-level labor.

Everyone hoped to be in the sixtieth percentile or higher, because that meant you were upper-class. You would be allotted an individual house and would have an income that afforded at least regular niceties. It got better and better with each color level: blue, purple, gray, silver and the most exclusive gold.

My confidence and giddiness vanished. Suddenly I was sure I would open the letter to find red paper. I would never be able to live in the same neighborhood as my parents, I would never get to teach, and I would have no hope of a life with Byron.

I felt a hand rest on my arm. I looked up to see my dad giving me a reassuring smile that made his blue eyes twinkle. His look told me that no matter what was in the envelope, I would always be his daughter and he would always love me. It gave me the courage I needed. I squeezed his hand and stepped a few steps back, away from him. This was something I needed to do on my own. I took a deep breath and began to open my letter. I prayed to see purple or at least blue.

“What?!”
I screamed. I blindly stumbled backwards until my back hit the end of the hallway. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: it just didn’t make sense. I felt myself starting to hyperventilate.

“It’s okay, honey. No matter what color you got, we’ll get through this together.” My dad walked towards me wearing his brave face. The last time I saw that expression on him was when he told me that Grandma Mary had passed away.

I looked over at my mom and saw that all the color had drained from her and tears were streaming down her face.

Realizing what they both must be thinking, I opened my mouth to explain, but all that came out was a strangled cry – my breath got caught somewhere in my throat. I was still sort of hyperventilating. So I haphazardly pulled my letter out and let the iridescent envelope flutter to the ground. Both of my parents’ eyes went wide as they focused on the gold letterhead clasped in my hand.

The impossible had happened. I had been fast-tracked.

My parents’ looks of despair disappeared as they followed me down a path of shock, disbelief and then overwhelming joy.

The world was completely open to me now. Against all odds I had fallen into the top two percent of the country’s students. I was now part of the most privileged class. I had the ability to hand pick my job and where I lived. Not just pick the field I wanted to work in, but the exact job I wanted. As long as the person holding the position was a silver or lower, the job was mine. Six months of career overview courses would assist me in choosing my job. Then I would spend the next year intensely training until I knew every aspect of the job I would take over.

I opened the letter and read and re-read it several times to make sure there had been no mistake. All the information matched mine and everything looked official. Plus they
had
scanned my iris. Slowly I began to accept my reality as I read through the rest of the enclosed information. I knew I’d have to re-read the information again later. I was simply too distracted to absorb it all right now, but it helped it feel more real to me. Besides, a few bits of interesting information did stick with me. I was to bring no more than a small carry-on bag of personal items with me. Clothing and housing would be provided for me at the college, as well as an ample food ration and income credits.

I considered using my tablet to see what the campus, my future home, looked like, but then I decided against it. That was something I wanted to share with Byron.
Where was he anyway?
I figured he’d be here by now. Then again, if I got gold, he at least got silver, and I’m sure that he and his family were still reeling from the shock.

Beep. Beep. Beep
. My heart leaped with the hope that it was Byron calling me, but my tablet wasn’t set to beep, and it wasn’t in the kitchen where the noise was coming from. I walked into the kitchen with my mom and dad in tow. It was Aunt Irena calling to gloat – I mean console my parents that I hadn’t done as well has her Leroy.

“Should we answer it?” my mom questioned me. It felt odd having her ask my permission for something.

“Sure. But be warned: she might never talk to you again after this,” I teased as I held up the letter.

“In that case…” my mom snickered as she tapped her tablet on. “Hi, Irena,” she greeted. She was doing a horrible job appearing somber. Fortunately, Aunt Irena only ever saw and heard what she wanted.

“Oh, Lydia, you look horrible. What happened? How bad is it? She didn’t get red, did she?” I stifled a laugh and handed my letter to her as she shook her head no. “Not worse?” Aunt Irena said in her most scandalous tone.

“Of course not,” my mom replied in her sweetest voice. She held the letter in front of her tablet.

“Your poor lighting is playing tricks on my eyes; I can’t tell what color that is,” Aunt Irena snapped. She sounded both confused and annoyed.

“It’s no trick of light, Irena. You’re seeing gold – and no, it’s not a silly joke or prank on my part. My daughter, Alexandria, has been fast-tracked,” my mom said with an abundant tone of smugness.

“Oh. Well. That’s unexpected.” Aunt Irena looked like the words tasted bitter on her tongue. “Well I’m glad to hear everything is well. I should go; I think I hear my young Liam calling me.” Before my mom had a chance to respond, my aunt had already tapped off the tablet.

I felt a twinge of guilt for Liam. I was sure my aunt would be all over him to constantly study. Now anything less than gold would be unacceptable in her eyes.

With my permission, my parents made several calls to share the good news with our closest friends and family. I gracefully accepted everyone’s praise and congratulations, but my heart and mind really weren’t in it. After my parents, there were only two other people I wanted to share my news with, and they were two doors down from us.

“You might as well go over his house,” my mom finally said. “He’s probably stuck doing the same thing as you. Smiling and nodding at an endless line of friends and relatives.”

“You don’t mind if I go?” I asked out of politeness. If I didn’t think it would have hurt her feelings I would have already been out the door.

“Oh, just go already.” She laughed as she handed me the letter and waved me out of the kitchen.

It took all my restraint to keep from running or skipping my way over to Byron’s house. I truly hoped he had gotten gold. As great as silver was, it would mean he would train at a different school for up to six years depending on which profession he chose. I just couldn’t imagine being separated from Byron for that long. Besides, whoever had the higher rank did the proposing. And that just didn’t fit with my daydream of him getting down on one knee and declaring his eternal love for me as he placed the ring on my finger.

I was still giggling to myself when I
rang
his doorbell.

No one answered. He must be in the middle of a call with family.

So I waited.

And waited.

It felt like ten minutes had passed, but still no one had answered the door. Maybe I had bad timing and rang it at the same time he was showing off his gold letter and getting a loud response of joy. So I rang it again, and waited some more.

I was debating ringing it again when the door slowly creaked open.
“Hi, Camille.”
I said excitedly before noticing the red rim of her eyes. She had been crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked, but she just shook her head. “Oh, Cam, it’ll be okay. Byron and I are leaving for training this year, but next year it will be your turn. Plus, we’ll be back to visit during breaks. You could end up at the same career college as us – and who knows, in the end we could still end up as each other’s neighbors.” I reached forward and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

I felt guilty. This whole weekend I had been so wrapped up in my own emotions, I had completely forgotten how hard this would be on Camille. In one day she was losing her brother and a close friend.

Camille pulled her hand back and flatly said, “That’s not it.”

“Then what?”
I was confused. She gave me an annoyed look that said I was stupid if I couldn’t figure it out on my own. And then, slowly, it dawned on me. “No. It’s not possible.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I never admitted it before, but Byron’s smarter than me. There’s just no way he could have gotten red. It’s just not possible.” I waited for Camille to tell me it was all a huge prank – but she didn’t.

“It’s worse than that,” she spat at me. “You should leave.” Her usually sweet beautiful face had contorted into an ugly, hateful expression.

“Then there has to be a mistake. Someone messed up in the calculations; we can appeal it, and make them retest him…”

I jumped as a loud boom emitted from the kitchen. “Get rid of her,” a gruff voice that barely resembled Mr.
Levenson’s
snarled.

Camille disappeared up the stairs as Byron stormed out of the kitchen toward me. His eyes, like Camille’s, were red-rimmed from crying, but right now he looked absolutely livid. It only made me more frightened for him. I had never seen him like this.

“What are you still doing here? Can’t you ever listen? Camille told you to leave!” he growled at me.

I felt my perfect little world collapsing in on
itself
and turning upside down. “But I don’t understand!” I protested.

“Then understand this!” he snarled and shoved an orange letter in my face. “My life is over now. There’s no future for me and you. Just forget about me. Forget you ever knew me.” He balled his hands into fists. His knuckles were bloodied. The noise I heard from the kitchen must have been Byron punching something. Automatically I reached for his hand to examine it. He snatched it back. “It’s nothing. I’m nothing now. Just go.”

“Don’t say that, Byron. You’re everything to me!” I cried. I was starting to shake.

“Not anymore I’m not. Look, I’m starting to lose the little patience I have left, so don’t make me ask you to leave again.” His fists balled even tighter. He was shaking too, now. I couldn’t tell if he was struggling to control his previously unknown temper or keep himself from crying.

“But how could this happen?” I begged. I was unwilling to leave and unable to understand.

“Run home and ask your dad all about it; I’m sure he can explain it all.” His voice was drenched with disgust. “Now
go
!” The last word he hollered at the top of his lungs, right into my face. His face contorted as if he was about to cry. So I stepped forward to comfort him. He cringed away as if my touch repulsed him. All the air rushed out of me and was replaced with an agonizing, throbbing ache. A punch in the gut would have hurt me less.

I stumbled back down the front stairs and turned to leave. Maybe he just needed some time to cool down and think more rationally. Then he’d see that this was all a mistake and we could get it all fixed.

“Wait,” Byron called in a voice I almost recognized as his.

“What?” I asked hopefully and turned around.

“You’ll want this,” he said flatly. Then he shoved the gold letter I had dropped back into my hands. Our eyes locked for a brief moment. In them I saw his heart ripping apart before he turned and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

I don’t remember exactly how I made it back to my house. I was a hysterical blob of tears by the time I stumbled up the porch steps. My parents opened the front door before I got there. They must have heard me coming, but I couldn’t see and stumbled straight through the door into them. The three of us tumbled onto the floor. I didn’t bother getting up. What was the point? Byron’s life was ruined and he didn’t want my help or me anywhere near him.

My parents tried hopelessly to get me to tell them what happened, but all I could get out was a jumble of sounds and loud wails as I continued to cry uncontrollably. At some point I managed to mutter the words Byron and orange. Somehow that was enough for my dad to piece everything together.

I heard him try to explain it to my mom, but she seemed as unable to make sense out of it as I was. She wanted to contact them, but he warned her not to. He said they needed their time to grieve. At least I think I heard him tell her that. I might have dreamed it. It’s hard to say, because I’m not sure of exactly what point I cried myself into exhaustion.

Chapter 4

Instead of my new painful reality, I dreamt about the night of our first kiss. Camille had planned a gondola ride through the
LifeFires
of Worchester’s Botanical Gardens. She had claimed it would be spooky being on the water surrounded by complete darkness, the only light provided by the soft blue and purple flames of the coals. Predictably, at the last minute Camille had gotten ‘sick’ and decided it was better if she stayed home.