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It's a Numbers Game

Opening pages of original 100k YA science fiction novel. Winner of Scholastic Gold Key and Silver Medal 2019

It's a Numbers Game

The others said that we couldn't take the exams. They said that our brains were different, we were 5000s after all. My mama said that they were wrong, that I could do anything I wanted in the whole world. She said that it didn’t matter if I was a 1 or a 5280, it was the inside of me that counted. Sometimes I believed her, but mostly I didn’t. Mama said a lot of crazy things.

“There’s my sweet Elladie,” mama said as she tucked me into bed that night. I still remembered the acid rain from that night, it was so heavy that we had to put the bucket underneath the leaky part of the rooftop. Dad had been trying to fix it for a while, but Madam Kora kept him pretty busy. There was no time to fix the servants’ quarters.
“Mama, my name’s Elladie 5280,” I said. I was five, not a child anymore, it was time that I started introducing myself properly. Mama didn’t look very pleased.

“I know your number, remember? I have the same one,” she said, getting some of those wrinkles in her eyes that sometimes came after a long day of work.

“But Mama, Madam Kora told me that I need to remember my number better, so I’m practicing,” I said proudly, giving her a toothless smile. Mama frowned and smoothed the fraying patchwork blue quilt. I loved that quilt, it was Mama’s before it was mine.

“Elladie, you are so much mor-” Mama started.

“No, not this one again,” I pouted, I had already heard that story one hundred million times. “I want a real bedtime story, one with dashing bluebloods and a quest and . . .” Mama laughed as I jumped up on the bed, showing her my best sword-fighting.

“Okay, I got it, a real story. Let’s see. . .” but before she could even start the story, Dad came in with his serious face on again.

“Reegan, there’s been a situation,” he said. Dad’s brown eyes were leaky, Mama said that his eyes didn’t like the window cleaner at the 2470s, so they tried to get it out through tears. I didn’t know if I believed her because my eyes didn’t care if there was window cleaner around. Mama said crazy things sometimes.

“No Dad, not another ‘itchuation,” I pouted, “can we finish the story first?” I asked. Dad’s eyes got sharper and I knew what the answer was going to be.

“Not tonight, sweet pea,” he said, his voice cracking.

“But Mama said I could hear the story tonight. Why do the stupid Radicals have to be so mean? If the Radicals didn’t keep having ‘itchuations then you could finish the story,” I pouted, crossing my arms. Mama took a big breath and sat down next to me. She took off her necklace, the one with the pretty lady on it.

“How about you tell the pretty lady the story from last night?” she asked, clasping it around my neck. I gasped, this was Mama’s special necklace, she would never, ever let me wear it, even if I finished all my chores on time. My eyes were bigger than the sky. “Don’t worry, I’ll take it back when I get home. Now, do you remember the story?” she asked. I nodded yes, this was Mama’s favorite story. I brought the pretty lady’s dress right up to my mouth and started.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Elladie 5280. Everyone thought that she would work for the 2470s for her whole entire life, but Elladie had a secret. She was going to take the exams and fight the Radicals just like her mama and dad, and no one would ever make fun of her or any 5000 ever again. The end,” I would tell the pretty lady the story every night until Mama came home. I didn’t know why she liked it so much, there weren’t even any dashing blue-bloods in it, but that was the story she made me remember.

So, I kept on telling it, even when Mama didn’t come back.
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The lecture was ridiculously long. Perhaps the heavy steel that enclosed me made the lesson seem particularly drab, but I was pretty sure Vertunian history was boring in any setting. Sighing, I moved silently onto my knees and peered between the tiny metal slats; catching a glimpse of the interior of the classroom. Sure enough, chins sat in heads and eyes were propped half open.

“Alright, I’ve talked enough, now it’s your turn. Can anyone tell me what the largest legal number gap between spouses is?” She asked.

“1000,” I whispered instantly. I hadn’t needed to pay attention in order to answer that question. Anyone who had lived in Vertunia for a week could have told you that. After a brief pause, a student repeated my answer out loud.

“Well I’m glad at least one of you is paying attention, the unit exam will be held next class period,” she said, going on to list a plethora of topics that would be tested. I sketched stars on the corner of my notebook, retracing the five lines over and over again until it resembled more of a scribbled mess than something that used to be in the sky. It was one of Rayna’s old notebooks and it was full of her illegible class notes from years past. As the teacher gave her final announcements, I lifted by bag from the metal floor and placed my notebook and splintering pencil inside. There was no point in writing notes about an exam that I wasn’t going to take.

Without warning, a frigid gust of air blew through me and into the room. The cold knocked my bag onto the vent’s floor, a loud clanging rang in its wake.

“What was that?” a male voiced asked. My fingertips shook violently, and my breath froze. Bad things happened to 5000s who broke the rules and I doubted that the government would be particularly pleased to find a serving girl spying on a classroom through their ventilation system.

Several mutterings conferred with the original question, but my breath resumed when a familiar voice appeased the class.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, those vents are always loud, I actually have another question about the exam,” Rayna said.

“Wonderful miss 2470,” the teacher said in Rayna’s direction. “You should all be asking questions in class, especially with the exams coming up so quickly. What was your question dear?” the teacher asked. I almost revealed myself again, this time from laughing as Rayna struggled to come up with a question that she already knew the answer to.

The rest of Rayna’s class passed without a hitch and soon the class was leaving. Finally, I heard 20 pairs of sneakers and heels exit the room, I peered out the slats to ensure that everyone was truly gone. The teacher was pacing through the rows like a vulture, picking up bits of paper and trash that had been left behind as though they were coins. Her head turned towards the very slats I was peering through and the fear and dread coursed through my veins once again.

I’d heard stories of what happened to 5000s who didn’t follow the rules; they were taken by the Moral Integrity Officers and thrown in jail or worse. Men who claimed that position were not exactly known for their kindness, especially in the lone company of a female 5000. The teacher’s face was angular and quizzical as she looked at the vent. This is it, she’s going to catch me and turn me in to the MIE’s. I’m never going to see Josaline or Rayna again, I am never going to get to take the exams I am never going to. . .

A slam of a door saved me.

“Can I help you?” she asked whoever had just entered and saved my skin.

“Sorry, I think I’m in the wrong room,” he said. The brief conversation had distracted the teacher from the vent, and she gathered up her things and went into the hallway. Nevertheless, I waited much longer than I needed to before tucking my bag under my shirt and shimmying into the depths of the ventilation system. A few years back when I started sneaking into class, I fit easily and could crawl through without a second thought. Now, however; I had filled out like most 16-year-olds did, though not so much that anyone took particular notice. It took a ridiculous amount of effort to travel down the two hallways of steel that connected the classroom with the staff quarters.

It was sort of a miracle, this little arrangement that I had come upon. One of the men who used to work for the 2470’s had been transferred to the school for maintenance and he knew the building inside and out. I took every favor I could and worked out a schedule where I could get all my chores done while still watching classes during the day. Josaline consistently told me that I was crazy for sneaking into the school while most people were trying to do the opposite. Then again, Josaline wasn’t taking the exams. She had good reason, of course, but I couldn’t live my whole life trapped at the 2470’s until the Perfecting. There had to be more than that. My parents wanted more for me than that.

I slid out of the vent and the collapsing soles of my canvas shoes protested the pressure. The low rumbling of the furnace masked my forbidden footsteps as I walked out into a service hallway and out of the building. The cool spring air hit me moments after exiting the building. After spending a few hours in those vents, the fresh air felt like an answered prayer.

“That was a close one,” Rayna said, leaning against the stone exterior of the school, her fingers inching through her hair.

“I know,” I said, “thank you for helping,”

“If by helping you mean saving you from certain death, then you are most welcome,” she said, her wild curly hair unleashing into a breeze. She was the polar opposite of what a 2470 was supposed to be. Her mother, madam Kora 2470, was constantly trying to make her prissy and refined, but Rayna couldn’t have been farther away from her mother’s ambitions.

All that she wanted was to take the exams and study chemics so that she could become a doctor. She had always wanted to help people, unless that person was Kora. If there was a way to defy her mother, Rayna was doing it. She secretly helped Josaline and I with our chores, never wore the untasteful makeup that her family was obsessed with. Now that I was peering in on her classes, she acted as my backup plan if anything went wrong.

“Rayna, I know this is hard. . .” I began.

“If this is going to be some soapy speech where you thank me and start being gross, you can stop it right there,” she said. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she inched her backpack off muttering something that sounded like ‘incoming.’ I spotted him moments after, he was impossible to miss with his pristine black jumpsuit that indicated his position as a MIE or ‘moral integrity officer.’ Rayna and I regularly met MIE’s on our way to and from school, so we knew how to behave when they came around. The problem was that you never knew which MIE you were going to run into. They could be a relaxed one who saw their job as a run-out-the-clock situation; in that case, they would check your papers and maybe give you a dirty look. However, if you found yourself bumping into a MIE who thrived on their job, you were really in trouble. Those were the ones who would look for every rule violation, who would keep you for 20 minutes and measure the distance between you and your master, punishing you in their own way for the minor rule infraction. I consistently broke almost every rule concerning internumeral regulations just by talking to Rayna. Technically, if you are 5000, you are supposed to maintain a five-foot distance between anyone below 3000 unless you were following an order, or in a government building.

Rayna shoved her backpack roughly into my arms and gave me a push for good measure. I could see the apology in her eyes, but we both knew that if she wasn’t cruel, he would be.

“Papers please,” the MIE said as he approached us. I reached into the inseam of my pants and pulled out my information, trying to get a sense of what kind of MIE we had stumbled across. His was balding and his face was a thin veil over severity. As he inspected Rayna and I’s papers, his brow furrowed. “A 5280 and a 2470, well it’s pretty obvious which one is which,” he said, chuckling to himself. Rayna forced a laugh and I bowed my head, as was protocol when speaking with a direct superior.

“Very funny sir,” Rayna said.

“You too are standing a little close, aren’t you?” he asked, eying the distance between Rayna and me.

“I was giving her my book bag sir, I am sorry for the rule infraction, but my back was getting sore,” she said, but the MIE wasn’t looking at her, his gaze was focused on me.

“This one’s quiet, isn’t she?” he asked, taking a step closer to me, stealing the air from my lungs.

“That’s how we like them,” Rayna said. “Anyways, we should be getting back, my mother will be expecting me.”

“Why so shy?” he said, Rayna had turned into background noise. My breathing increased with fervor as he took a step toward me and looked me up and down. I instinctively took a step back, giving him exactly what he wanted. “Where are you going hon?”

“My mistress is waiting for me,” I said, barely audibly.

“I’m sorry, did someone say you could talk?” he asked. I bowed my head deeper, partly to appease him, but mostly to hide the red-hot fire that swelled within me. I really should have been used to it by now. A stinging slap converged on my cheek, he had sharper nails than most MIEs.

With my eyes still trained on the ground, Raena’s squirming sneakers told me what she couldn’t. I braced myself for more, but luckily, he was satisfied for now. “You really need to keep a hold on this one, especially with the Radicals recruiting, we wouldn’t want her getting mixed up in anything like that.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Raena said bitterly. She took something from his hands as he dismissed us with cobblestone creaking in the cervices of his boots. “All clear,” she said once he was out of sight.

“Thanks,” I said, cracking my neck.

“Of course, are you okay?” She asked, taking her bookbag from my shoulders. I shrugged off her question.

“Did I get an addition to my collection?” I asked, reaching out my hand. She held up the small slip of paper.

“How many of these do you have by now?” she asked as I inspected the familiar print on the citation slip.

“Well let’s see, this is one for refusal to listen to a moral integrity officer, so that makes eight of those and 30 in total, hey that must be a record.”

“I’ll get the cake,” Rayna said. I laughed. She was right, I had enough citations to wallpaper the servant’s quarters. “You are so lucky Kora doesn’t turn those in, you would probably have a life sentence by now.”

“I don’t know if I consider anything related to Kora lucky, she’s just too lazy to turn anybody in,” I said, feeling my food harden in my stomach. Regardless of how lazy Kora was, I was a criminal.

“Seriously though, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we better get going, if I can’t get that laundry done on time, Kora with make that MIE look like a school girl.”

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