The Chronicles of Vallanie Sharp: Novice

by Morgan Feldman

Mom’s a great woman, if you’re not her daughter. If you are her daughter, she’s nagging, embarrassing, and an absolute savior. She spends most of her time on our patio, shoeless, in stained dresses, with her wispy hair pulled back in an elegant bun, sculpting or painting tantalizing images; and the rest of her time, lounging in the oversized chair in our computer room, digitalizing her work. That is, when she’s not having to help me with something.

  Mom’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of half my closet strewn about on my bedroom floor. “Val,” she groaned. “You can’t take all this!”

  “Why not?”

  “It won’t fit in one suitcase.”

  “Yes it will.” I pulled out a squishy metallic bag from under my bed, and began neatly folding the first violet dress.

  Mom watched me a minute before sighing. “What are you doing?” she asked in exasperation, “If it takes you that long to fold one dress, you’ll still be here packing when your train leaves tomorrow morning.”

  I threw back my head and let out a sharp breath. I had already spent an hour color coordinating them, and I estimated it would take me twenty-four minutes to fold them. I knew what I was doing.

  “I’ll help you.” She joined me on the carpet, reaching for the top dress on a pile of blues by her ankle.

  “Be careful! That wrinkles.”

  She continued to fold the constricting fabric. “Trust me, Val, I know how to pack.” I’d completely forgotten she had traveled a lot when she was younger. It was hard to remember that Mom had a life before I was born. “Besides,” she added resting the dress on top of the violet one, “the closet will iron them once you get there.”

  I picked up the dress and moved it to the side. “Dark colors on the left, bright on the right. Black and white in the middle.”

  “I guess that’s what you get when an artist raises a daughter.” Mom rolled her eyes, but did as I asked. Her help did make the process go faster. Mothers seem to have a knack for these things. I watched with slight envy, as her sleek hands smoothed and twisted the fabrics of dark skirts, pale blouses, soft tights, and freshly pressed dresses until they were stacked neatly in a pile almost a foot high, while I was still folding out the shoulder creases of my third nightgown.

  Less than ten minutes later, the carpet could breathe again. Twenty-two outfits were tucked neatly into the suitcase, and all I had had to leave behind was a pair of boots.

  Dali, our cat, rubbed against my ankles letting a meek noise escape his throat that wasn’t quite a meow or a purr, but a strange mixture, as if he knew I was leaving and wasn’t sure what his feelings were about it.

  Dali was like a brother to me: he stole my food, ruined my clothes, and enjoyed waking me up early, but we loved each other, though I didn’t like to admit it. He was Mom’s cat, and she often made a fool of herself talking to him in a high-pitched sing-song voice. The main reason we lived in the country was because she didn’t want to raise him in the city. She thought keeping him indoors was bad for his health.

  “What about a jacket?” Mom scratched Dali under the chin with one hand while typing the code on the digital lock with the other.

  I watched the case seal itself and nodded to where my long coat hung over my chair, the silver and purple layers fanning out like flower petals. “I’m going to wear it.”

  Mom shook her head. “That’s too big. You won’t be able to fit it under your lab coat.”

  I hated it when she was right. There was nothing I could do but sigh and give in. “I’ll take a smaller one then.”

  She picked up the case and checked to make sure it was properly closed. When she was satisfied everything was staying in place, she put it down carefully and turned to me. “Which one?”

  I couldn’t win. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

  “What if you forget?”

  “I won’t forget.” I went to my closet and snatched a small blue jacket and tossed it in the corner. “I can do it myself.”

  Mom sat back on her knees, throwing her hands up in submission. “All right.” She stood, brushing off her tights with a gentle hand. “But I don’t want to get any calls that you forgot something.”

  I was determined that she wouldn’t.

  She left the room quietly. Dali followed her out with a swish of his tail, his black and white chin held high like he was scorning me for the way I treated Mom.

  The room suddenly felt empty, with everything packed or stored away. The walls, which I had set to display the skyline of Civitis in my earlier excitement, suddenly seemed cold and oppressive. I changed them back to the sky. I watched the clouds drift slowly over the tiny cracks and divots and the large oval mirrors, but I couldn’t shake the feeling entirely.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and trying to think about nothing. Normally, I’d have been doing homework and picking out my outfit for the next day, waiting for Sid to get off work. I’d already put aside the next day’s outfit before I packed, and I had no homework, so I painted my nails and put up my hair, only to take it down a minute later and change the walls again. I must have changed both the view and my hair half a dozen times by the time I heard Sid’s voice in the kitchen.

  “Congrats, Val!” She shouted, grinning as I emerged from my room. Apparently, Mom had called and told her the news. She’d come to say goodbye, which was something I hated doing in person. I had hoped to avoid it by talking to her through the Ortus.

  She threw her arms around me in a hug that nearly collapsed my lungs. “You’re going to Central! That’s so exciting! I’ll have to come visit you. I’ve always wanted to live in the city.” She tightened the band that kept her long blond hair in a spiral on the back of her head. “You’ll have to take lots of pictures and videos and scout out all the best shopping centers so we can go when I come visit.”

  “Of course.”

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Mom asked, placing her order in on our kitchen menu.

  Sid shook her head. “Dad said I have to be home by six.”

  I almost laughed. “Since when do you listen to your dad?”

  “Since he’s letting me go to the Dripping Algorithm’s concert this weekend,” she explained, “if I behave.”

  I did laugh, making a show of rolling my eyes. I ordered my dinner and followed Sid to the front porch, where we talked about the previous nights episode of Mars and Beyond, where Sid’s favorite character realized that the high energy storm everyone was afraid of was actually over, even though their station commander had lied and said it wasn’t. The next episode, we found out he had been tricked by a girl with telepathic powers, and he died walking out into the middle of it. That put Sid in such a rage—I was glad I wasn’t home, so I could shut off my radix whenever I felt like it without worrying about her showing up at my door.

  Sid was still complaining about how much she hated the station commander when we heard the ding of the automatic dumbwaiter, signaling my food was ready. Sid took it as a sign it was time for her to head home.

  “Take care,” she said with her usual grin that stretched halfway up her cheeks. “Have fun, study hard, save the world and all that stuff.”

  “Thanks!” I called back to her. “I will!” I had to force myself to keep from running after her, knowing I wouldn’t see her again for quite sometime. Instead, I went back inside and shut the door.

  Dinner that night was awkward, if not painful. Mom wanted to talk about my apprenticeship, but I didn’t want to think about it. I kept trying to change the subject, and she kept bringing it back. Looking back, I guess you could say I was scared, and Mom was too. It was a change, and change was one thing I wasn’t good at. You can’t confine and mold change, but let it certainly can confine and mold you.

  At the time, I thought I was just anxious, and I was sure my mom was just annoying.

  “Can I please just go to bed now?” I said at last, s
etting down the cooling crust of my third piece of pizza.

  “You don’t want dessert?”

  “No.”

  She sighed and suddenly she appeared so small and frail, that I instantly regretted being annoyed with her. Part of me wanted to get up and throw my arms around her in an enormous hug, telling her not to worry because I was never ever going to leave her. But the other half of me was suddenly filled with resentment. Didn't she know I had no choice? I sat in my place, staring down at my nearly empty plate.

  “I’m going to miss my baby girl.” I could hear her footsteps coming closer. She reached out to hug me, and I let her, just for a second, before I turned away.

  “I’ll be home for Christmas,” I promised. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I went back to my room and continued my pointless pacing until the red light crept through the windows signaling it was almost Lights Out. Crawling under the protection of my familiar sheets, my anxiety lessened, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept imagining all these wonderful things. I had this one thought, this one dream, of become such a great apprentice that I was allowed to take the exam after only a month. I would be so exceptional, that I would become the youngest perceiver ever to win an Elite award. I guess things don’t always turn out the way you want them to.

  The next morning, Mom took me to the train station. The whole way there, she went over several mental checklists to be sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I stopped paying attention after five minutes, knowing it was too late to turn back, and I could buy anything I forgot once we got to Civitis.

  It was a relief when the silver arch of the train platform came into view. Scia was already waiting, her freshly dry cleaned coat standing out against the uniforms of the various Workers scattered about the platform.

  I waved to her with a smile, and introduced my mother, who, having no idea what to say, nervously rambled on about how great an honor it was for her daughter to have the chance to study with such a prestigious mentor. Scia stood there, nodding occasionally as if she were talking about the weather, which made Mom feel like she needed to throw in even more compliments, like how the color of her eyes equated to the annual sky streaks, and how her make-up was so naturally applied it looked like she was simply born with black eyelids and silver streaks, which were memorably embarrassing.

  When she finally came to her senses, Mom turned to me to say goodbye. I could tell she was struggling to hold back tears.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her with a hug.

  “I know baby.” She pulled me tight and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, “but I’ll miss you.”

  I pulled away, promising that I’d call at least once a week, I wouldn’t wander off by myself, I wouldn’t spend all my money on clothes, and that I would see her again soon.

  The train pulled up and I turned my back to Mom as I stepped beside Scia. I lifted a hand above my shoulder and waved goodbye, unable to look back for fear of hesitating in front of my new mentor. The doors slid open, and I stepped on board.

  I was a mess of nerves, jumping back and forth from anxious, to excited, to worried, covering everything in between. This was only my third time visiting the city, and the first in years. Scia had been more than helpful, explaining how the national train worked, which seats were best, how we knew which stop to get off at, and how we could see how much longer the journey would take.

  I looked out the window as the train pulled away from the station, watching everything I knew shrink into the distance. I was unpleasantly surprised to feel my stomach drop. My hands clenched the armchair, and I realized my knees were shaking with nerves. Questions that had been lurking in the back of my mind began to surface. What if I wasn’t good enough? What if Scia didn’t like me? What if I never saw Mom again? What if she forgot about me?

  I forced the thoughts away with a deep breath. I’d looked forward to this day for so long. I wasn’t going to let myself ruin it with stupid fears.

  Leaning back in my chair, I took out my headphones and closed my eyes to the world.

  Chapter 3: Civitis