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Seeing the pictures in the brochure of all of those smiling, perfect girls makes me realize just how much I miss her. The fact that I have no idea which Home School she was sent to makes it even worse. Is it possible that she could be at ISTJ, too, even though I know in my gut that she must be an Extra?

I head to my room and write a letter to her. While I don’t know which Home School she’s at exactly, the fact that my sister goes to an Extra Home School means that I’m at least a step closer to getting in contact with her.

When Hannah enters the room, I immediately walk over to her and grab her brush off the side table. “Let me,” I say.

“Okay, thanks,” she says, sitting down on her bed and pulling an elastic out of her hair. “I’ve got play practice tonight and want it to look really good.”

“You always look good,” I say, starting to brush her thick wavy brown hair, so different from my own, which is so fine I could use a baby’s comb through it. Touching my sister makes me realize just how much I’ll miss her. At least while I’m in Primary I still get to see Hannah whenever she comes home on a weekend or during any vacation. But once I’m at ISTJ I can’t even count on sharing the same school holidays, as I’ve heard that staggering them between the schools is common.

“If I give you a letter for Taylor,” I say, pulling the brush through her thick waves, “do you think you could give it to her when you go back to your school on Monday?”

“Taylor? You mean Taylor Irving, your friend from Primary? Why do you think I’d see her? She’s not at ESFP.” She moves her head closer to me, a gesture that means she wants me to brush her hair more.

“I know, but she must be at one of the Extra schools, so you’ll see her at one of your socials, right?” I raise my voice, just a bit. “I mean, you
told
me that some of the dances and stuff are at the other Home Schools. Were you lying or something?”

Hannah turns to face me, the brush stuck in the back of her hair. “Soph, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” I feel my chest tighten and try to focus on my breathing.

“Taylor isn’t at Secondary, Sophie.”

“What are you talking about? Of course she is! She’s a First Year, just like me! Her birthday was in October!”

My sister blinks at me for a few seconds, then glances quickly towards our empty doorway. “She’s at Harmony,” she says. “I thought you knew.”

“Harmony? What’s that? Is it some new Home School for Extras?”

Hannah sighs, the sound coming out too dramatic for our bedroom. “Each county has one. Some even have two. Harmony is for the kids with the…problems. The kids who do weird things or who get irregular test results on the Assessment. Don’t you know anything?”

“Why would Taylor get irregular anything? She’s the smartest girl I know!”

Another sigh, this one smaller. “It’s not about being
smart
, Sophie. Didn’t you once tell me that Taylor would get really upset sometimes, for no reason? That she’d cry if she lost a game, like really cry? And that she was terrified of heights and thunderstorms?”

“Yeah. She’d get super crazy scared whenever it rained.” An image of my friend hiding under her bed during a sleepover enters my mind and I try to shake it away.

“Super crazy. That’s Harmony for you.”

“No! That’s not what I meant! I meant more like she gets anxiety attacks, that kind of thing.”

“Sophie, you
must
have heard about Harmony before. You must have.” She pauses. “You know, how it’s divided into three sections—Temporary, Intermediate, and Full? My guess is that Taylor is in Intermediate at the very least. It sucks to be her, but what can you do?”

I stare at my sister and shake my head. “You’re lying about this. I don’t know why you are, but you’re lying!” I pull the brush out of her hair and throw it across the room. “I don’t why you even bothered to come home for my last night here if all you’re going to do is be a liar and make me cry!”

Hannah sighs again. “Sophie, I’m tired of explaining everything to you. Go talk to Daddy.”

“Maybe I will!” I say. Not satisfied with the brush throwing, I pick up my pillow and toss it across the room, too, before storming out the door and down the stairs. Once I reach my father’s study, the anger in my chest has changed to fear. Even though I don’t understand exactly what Hannah told me, I’m terrified of finding out more. After a few seconds, I knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Daddy.”

“Is supper ready?”

“No, not yet. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Can’t it wait? I’m quite busy at the moment.”

“Okay,” I say. I move away from the door. As I start to walk down the hall, I hear the study door open.

“I have five minutes, tops,” my father says, waving me in with his hand.

My heart beating faster, I follow him into his study. I sit down at the seat he points to, a big leather one across from his desk. While I try not to, I can’t help looking around the room. I’m allowed in here so little that everything still seems so new. The walls are all painted a dark red and have black and white photographs in a row. Photos of bridges, waterfalls, and skyscrapers. None of people. None of me.

“So, Sophie, to what do I owe the honour of your impromptu visit?”

“Huh?” I turn my head to face his.

“What did you want to ask me?” His voice seems to be sitting half-way between his family and Association voices and could go in either direction.

“Um…” I pause, the moment suddenly feeling too big for me to push through. “Um…what’s Harmony?”

“The school?”

I nod, digging my fingernails into the armrests. The leather feels cool and slippery against my skin.

“Why do you ask?”

“Hannah said that Taylor was there. I always thought she was an Extra.”

“Ah yes, Taylor. Wasn’t she your loud friend at Primary?”

I nod again. “She’s the one who always got the best marks. She’s way smarter than me and Aaron. Way smarter!”

This time it’s my father who nods. “Way smarter, hmmm? Well, then, that’s certainly a shame.”

I look at my father but don’t say anything. Sometimes it’s only when you stop asking questions that he starts giving you the answers.

“Taylor clearly wasn’t quite up to going to Secondary. She’ll be more suited for the…special care she’ll receive at Harmony. She’ll still obtain an excellent education there, as well as wonderful care, so no worries there.”

“But what about after?” I ask softly. “Will she still go to one of the Academies?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” my father says, shaking his head. “We find that most of the longer-term Harmony students are better suited for more hands-on professions. Perhaps she’ll go to one of our apprenticeships, something that won’t…tax her sensitive nature.”

“But she’s so smart!” I blurt out. “She always planned to be an architect or a dentist or something else really good! She was the best in our class!”

“She was given ample opportunities in Primary to learn how to manage herself, Sophie.” My father’s voice is all Association now, formal and distant. “In the early grades she would have been taught mindfulness, relaxation, exposure training, cognitive restructuring, the works! The amount of time devoted to helping her, to giving her the chance to improve herself would have been ample. My guess is that she would have had a second chance at Harmony, in the Temporary program. If she is still there and you want anyone to blame, then I’m afraid it would be your
way smarter
friend.”

“But she’s just a kid!”

“That has never been and never will be an excuse!”

“But…” My head is starting to hurt.
What does all this mean?

“What was Taylor’s motto in Primary, Sophie?”

I shrug.

“Was it not the same motto as yours? The same motto your entire class said every single morning?”

I nod.

“So, what is it?”

“You know.” I never talk back to my father, but I feel like I have to do something for Taylor.

“Sophie Marie Jenkins, I will not repeat myself again.”

“I will try to be the best me I can be,” I whisper.

My father nods, a satisfied look on his face. “Well, clearly, your friend Taylor didn’t practice what she preached. Now please ask your mother if dinner is ready. I for one am hungry!”

I walk towards the door and then stop. “Daddy?” I ask.

My father says, “Yes?”

“Is that what happened to James? Did he become a longer-term student at Harmony, too?”

“Sophie Marie,” my father says sternly. “You know that bringing up your brother’s name will only upset your mother. I excused you doing it once a few weeks ago, but I will not permit you to continue bringing him up needlessly.”

“I’m sorry,” I pause. “But I need to know.”

“Well then the answer is yes, my inquisitive daughter. Yes, your brother is in Full at Harmony, where he is receiving the care he requires for his…difficulties, and is also obtaining compassionate care and a wonderful education. Now I trust there will be no more questions?”

“No more,” I say, closing the door softly behind me. I was right, after all. Knowing is definitely much worse than not knowing. Suddenly I wish I could move back time to when I was eleven, or ten, or nine. Push time as far back as it will go, so that my big brother James was at home, and so that Taylor was still sitting safely behind my desk at Primary, with Aaron in front. Suddenly I wish that I could be anywhere, in any time, but the here and now.
If only
.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Should we tell her about it? Now, what should we do? Well…What would you do if your mother asked you?

—Dr. Seuss

I stand in
front of my bed. It’s covered with piles of clothes, as well as books, framed photos, and a few stuffed animals. I want to get my packing done as quickly as possible, but thoughts about what I’ve done keep pushing their way into my mind, crowding me. I lift up a pair of socks then put them down again. I don’t know where to begin.

“Knock, knock,” my mom says from the doorway. “May I come in?”

“Sure.”

“Having some trouble packing?” She comes over and lifts up a sweater. With one quick movement she’s expertly folded it and put it into my trunk. She picks up a shirt and does the same thing. “You know you don’t have to bring so many clothes, honey,” she says. “You’ll be in uniform most of the time, remember. You just need your own clothes for sleeping and for any weekend that you stay at school.” She takes a pile of shirts and sweaters and puts them back in my closet.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“I don’t see your bag of toiletries, honey.”

“I guess I forgot that, too.” I start to chew on my thumb nail.

“That’s all right. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah.” I sit down on my quilt and watch my mother finish packing my trunk. What looked like an impossible job for me is done by her in two minutes. I’m going to miss her.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Sophie?”

“What if I get homesick?”

My mom closes the trunk and then sits down next to me. “Getting a bit homesick is only natural,” she says, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it. “Just remember that FirstYears are allowed to call home every other day, if they need to. And Daddy and I will always come on Visitors Day.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget that you’ve got Aaron right there if you need someone to talk to.”

“I know.”

My mom squeezes my fingers again, before letting go. She gets up and softly shuts the door, then comes back and sits down again. “Do you mind if I ask you something, honey?” I shrug and she continues. “It’s just that, well, I’m very surprised by your Assessment results. I’d always pegged you for an ENP of some sort or another. At the very least an Extra. But an Intro? An ISTJ?” She turns her eyes to look at mine. They’re a pale, pale green—my favourite colour.

“I know, it’s weird.”

“It’s more than weird, honey. It’s shocking to me. You’ve been full of energy and enthusiasm since you were still inside of me, kicking away!”

“I guess I changed.”

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”

I look down at my lap, trying to convince my cheeks to stop burning. I want to tell my mom the truth, to tell her everything, but I can’t. I just can’t. “No,” I say. I look up again. “Is Dad wondering, too?”

“Actually, he’s not. But you know your father—he believes in the Assessment process so much that he would never question the results.” She smiles, a private smile. “And to think he calls
me
the idealist!”

“So you don’t believe?”

“Of course I believe, but I also know my child, and I know what it’s like to be an Intro. I’ve been an ISFJ all my life, honey, someone who likes to stay behind the scenes. That’s why your father and I are such a good fit. I love all of you deeply, but I’m a more private kind of person than any of my children You may be many things, my love, but an Intro you are
not
.” She pats my hand. “Unlike your father, I don’t think testing is inviolable.”

“Okay,” I say. It’s hard to get the word around a big lump that’s formed in my throat.

“Okay,” she says. She stands up and smiles. “You getting schooled in an Intro Secondary won’t hurt you—it certainly didn’t hurt me!” She walks to the door, opening it again. “Celebration dinner in ten minutes? Hannah is going to entertain us with a dance she’s choreographed in your honour, so you mustn’t be late!”

“I won’t be,” I say. As I watch my mother walk away, I feel a wave of shame hit me, almost knocking me down. Lying at The Department wasn’t so bad; it was kind of like a challenge I’d set for myself, a little game. But lying to my mother? That’s a different thing entirely.

CHAPTER NINE

What means does civilization employ in order to inhibit the aggressiveness which opposes it, to make it harmless, to get rid of it, perhaps?

—Sigmund Freud

The drive to
my new school is quicker than I’d hoped. Despite reading all about the wonderful times I’ll soon be having at ISTJ, despite seeing all the beautiful photographs of their plush, twenty-five acres of rolling lawns, woods, and horse trails, despite all of it, I don’t feel ready.
How am I going to be able to live for six years pretending to not be me
? Too soon, my father drives through the large gate at the front of the campus and turns down a long, winding driveway until he stops in front of a large stone building, reminding me of a miniature castle.