A surge of angry protest builds around the room as my own blood thrums noisily in my veins. I can’t get sent home! I’d rather die than go back to that apartment. All of a sudden, I don’t give a monkey’s ass what’s up with all the lower-class volunteers. As long as I’m one of those who travels to Thalassic City, I don’t care about anything else.
“Hush now.” He gestures wildly with his hands. “There’s no need for concern.” He guzzles his drink before continuing. “You’ll be segregated into groups of one hundred, and each group will be assigned a designated unit within our Mock-Up Facility for the duration of the stay here. During this time, you’ll meet with your Adaptation Officer who will be with you each step of this exciting journey. He or she will explain their role and outline how life will work in Thalassic City. There are certain things you need to decide before leaving here. A team of medical experts will be monitoring individual health on a daily basis to ensure that everyone who travels to Thalassic City is acclimatized. This is a fantastic opportunity for you all and an important next step for society. On behalf of the president, I’d like to thank you for your commitment, and I wish you all the best of luck.”
He turns on his heel and all but runs off the podium. Running scared, Mr. VP?
“Well, that was a big fat waste of time.” Jenna stands stiffly.
“You’re not wrong. What a total idiot. I can’t believe he’s entrusted with assisting the president to run this country. I could have recited that speech with more emphasis and feeling in my little toe.”
Jenna barks out a laugh as she loops her arm through mine. “Here I was thinking you were a quiet one. I may have underestimated you, my friend.” Her words warm the coldest parts of me.
Police officers line the corridors outside the amphitheater, directing us to the giant cafeteria on the lower level. Thereafter we are to retreat to our residential quarters for the night. Some medical forms have been sent to our digipads, and we are informed that we need to complete and submit same before we go to sleep.
I’m standing in line in the cafeteria with Jenna when the strangest sensation overwhelms me. A desperate, burning need accosts me. My body tingles all over as every cell and nerve ending strains and writhes. My subconscious screams at me to turn around. Twisting around, I urgently scan the line.
My eyes sweep left to right as I search for the source of the energy and emotion churning inside me.
Then I spot him and everything else fades into the background.
CHAPTER 3
Wide, keen, blue eyes, the color of the ocean, lock on mine, and I forget how to breathe. He’s tall with fair skin and sleek jet-black hair that falls in waves over his forehead into his eyes. His expressive mouth parts gently as he notices me staring, and his lips curve upward.
I know I should look away but I can’t.
It’s as if my eyes are superglued to him.
He is easily the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. Like. Ever. He redefines “hot.” They should just list his name underneath. No further explanation needed. He’s totally all that and more.
Broad shoulders fit snugly under his white shirt, and taut muscles flex in his arm as he grips a tray. He’s not a muscle-bound freak though, thank God. I don’t like that “I have boulders in my biceps” look that a lot of guys seem to favor these days.
Although, it’s not surprising really. Being in peak physical shape is important—the healthier we are, the longer we can work—so the government permits daily gym sessions. Every factory has a state of the art gym outfitted with the latest equipment. The guys in Medi-Tech are addicted to training, and they never miss their scheduled hour. Me? I indulge on the odd occasion, but I’m not a physical kind of girl. Being slight, I’m afraid to develop muscles, in case I topple over on myself.
I shift from foot to foot and side to side, angling for a look at his lower half. But the girl in front is an impenetrable barrier to my ogling. I pout in frustration. Our eyes meet again and now he’s staring at me strangely, a mix of awe, fear, and disbelief blazing in his eyes.
I’m instantly self-conscious, and heat lands with embarrassing transparency on my face. I want to look away but I’m transfixed. It’s as if he’s cast a spell on me. He winks and I practically expire on the spot.
“What are you staring at?” Jenna hisses, thankfully breaking me free of my trance.
Spinning back around, I exhale noisily. Oh. My. God.
“Dayum. That is one fine specimen.”
“Look away!” I implore, tugging her elbow.
What the hell came over me? I cannot believe I stared so blatantly at a guy. And what in the world made me turn around in the first place anyway? I’m feeling an extremely strong urge to look at him again, but there’s no way I’m going back for seconds. That’d be beyond humiliating.
I already want the ground to open up and swallow me.
“Okay. You spotted him first. You can have first dibs.” Jenna’s face is a picture of sincerity.
“What?” I splutter.
“But if you mess it up or he’s not interested, then he’s fair game. Agreed?”
“You can’t be serious,” I stutter, gobsmacked. “You know relationships are against the law, right?”
“Of course, I do. Who said anything about a relationship? I’m all about the fun.” She elbows me in the ribs and winks.
“How old are you?” I’m suddenly intrigued. From her reaction, I’m sensing Jenna’s had plenty of “fun.”
“I’m seventeen. What’s that got to do with anything?” She shuffles along the line, inadvertently nudging the guy in front with the side of her tray.
He glares at us. Jenna ignores him and focuses her full attention on me.
“Wait up.” She bends over, whispering in my ear. “Have you ever been with a guy?”
“Yes,” I say, even though that quick fumble with Luca Parry in the factory closet doesn’t count for much. He was all grabby hands, sloppy mouth, and slimy tongue. It’s an experience I’m in no hurry to repeat. Ugh. A severe shiver travels up my spine with the memory.
“Hmm.” She trails a finger along her lower lip. “I need to investigate further.”
“Not here,” I shriek. “Later.” I only say it to distract her.
I’ve no intention of getting into any conversation about my love life, or lack thereof. It’s not that I’m disinterested in boys. I like them all right. A lot. I’ve had crushes and been asked out on dates, but what’s the point when I’m not allowed to form any real, lasting attachment?
When we reach the top of the line, I opt for spaghetti and sauce and swipe a carton of milk from the refrigerator. I follow Jenna to a table at the back and slide into the seat beside her.
We’re both quiet while we eat, and I get lost in my mind.
It’s a well-practiced habit.
The government had introduced the ban on procreation in the Outer Circle the year after I was born. Concerned with the rising headcount—especially within the lower sectors of society—they’ve decided we’re not allowed to marry and have children anymore. We serve only one purpose: As lifelong workers of the State. When I retire—at age seventy-five—I will be permitted to marry whomever I choose. But it’ll be too late to have children. And I doubt I’ll have much enthusiasm or desire to get married so late in life. It’s only a token gesture.
Five years ago, the government had introduced an addendum to this policy. Each year, the city selects ten percent of the lower-class population and grants them special exemption to marry and have children; however, it’s capped at two children per household.
The government presented it as evidence of their generosity of spirit, but that’s pure bull. Everyone knows it’s only because they need to cultivate a new generation within the lower classes to ensure they have a steady stream of future workers. While it’s totally deplorable, and goes against everything I believe to be ethical and fair, it’s my back-up plan if impressing the powers-that-be backfires during the next six month
s.
If that doesn’t work out, and I end up back at home, caged within the reality of my so-called life, then all I’m permitted are casual hook-ups. While we are allowed to date, we can’t date the same boy for more than three months, in case we form any serious attachment. My brother, Daveed, says the only reason we’re permitted to date at all is because sexual frustration doesn’t engender happy, productive workers.
So, casual sex with numerous rotating boyfriends is totally acceptable, but a loving, stable relationship with the same partner for life is forbidden. As if we need any further proof of how fucked up our society is.
Of course, bullions and coins don’t have to succumb to anything so demeaning. Coins, the middle classes—those who live in the Midi Circle Sectors—are allowed to marry the partner of their choosing and start a family, provided they don’t produce more than three children. The upper class, or bullions as we call them, reside in Sectors one through four—otherwise known as the Core Circle—are not restricted in any way. They can choose to live their life exactly as they please.
We’re the only ones who are treated as subhuman. Nonetheless, we’re supposed to be grateful for all the government is doing for us. What a joke. I’m seething inside. Someday, all this pent-up rage is going to explode with disastrous consequence.
“Ready?” Jenna asks, pushing her plate away.
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” I purposely avert my gaze as we walk the length of the cafeteria. While one part of me desperately wants to steal another peek at the hottie, another part of me begs to run and hide. Forever. I know I’ll be totally embarrassed if I bump into him again.
I think my chances of keeping a safe distance are decent if the throngs of people swarming the cafeteria are any indication. The government never announced how many volunteers they were seeking, but there are literally hundreds, if not thousands, of people here.
It shouldn’t be too difficult for one small, inconsequential girl to hide in the crowd.
“So, come on,” Jenna says, once we’re back in our dorm, sitting side by side on my bunk, “What’s the dealio with you and boys?”
“I told you, I’ve been with guys. Well, one guy,” I begrudgingly admit.
I’m not much of a liar. A hoarder, a hider: most definitely, yes, and sometimes I’m dishonest by default because I find it difficult to share that innermost part of myself with others. But never a conscious liar. I don’t think I have it within me to deliberately mislead anyone.
“Ah.” Her tone and look soften. I wish she wouldn’t look at me like that, as if I’m something to be pitied.
I want no one’s pity.
“And this guy … did you, you know, have sex?” She shoots a lopsided grin at me as her question hangs in the air.
God, she’s forward. I’m a total novice at this stuff, and I’m not sure I want to share my minimal experience with someone who is basically a virtual stranger. I’m getting ready to deflect her when I stop myself.
I’m not doing that here. I’m committed to opening up more.
“No,” I admit. “It was more of a grope and run type of thing.”
“So, you’re still rocking the V-card?” She says it like it’s a terminal illness and then looks at me in the same pitying way.
I flinch. “Don’t do that.”
She looks at me questioningly.
“Stop looking at me like I’m to be pitied. It’s by choice, okay? I resent that I’m not allowed to form a lasting relationship, so I’d rather not put myself through that in the first place. And I respect my body. I’ve no interest in hooking-up unless I love the boy.”
I’m proud of myself for speaking my mind. I’d never have the guts to say anything like that at home in front of my family; I’d sit there and take their pitying looks and their accompanying abuse.
She pauses considerably before replying. “I don’t pity you. I’m surprised. It’s normal in my sector to be sexually active from a young age.” She lies on her stomach and rests her head in her hands, a reflective look on her face. “You don’t get teased for that?” she asks.
I shake my head.
She looks pensive again. “I think that’s admirable, Sadie. And dignified. You should hold onto that conviction.”
“Thank you.” Then part of what she says clicks into my brain. “It’s normal for girls to … do it, when they’re young?” I’m aghast all over again. How can our society stand by and permit this? It’s wrong on so many different levels.
“I can’t speak for other Sectors, but, yeah, it’s normal in Sector twenty-five. Of course, most have already taken the shot by the time they first start working, and some of them opt for early sterilization.”
“What?!” I pull my knees up to my chest and pin her with a shocked look. All females receive a regular annual contraceptive injection as soon as menstruation starts. The government isn’t taking any chances when it comes to unwanted pregnancy.
Mom told me once that the first few years after they introduced the ban on marriage and motherhood, some women got pregnant anyway in direct contravention of the law. All were removed from their families and never seen again. One doesn’t need an active imagination to visualize their fate. Thereafter, the government introduced some new rules to ensure they didn’t have to deal with such situations again.
The annual contraceptive injection was introduced, and compulsory sterilization at age twenty-five is the law unless you’re one of the chosen ten percent. I’m totally sickened that some girls would volunteer to have the procedure earlier. I cannot comprehend how any girl would willingly make that choice.
“I know,” Jenna says, apparently reading my mind, “I think it’s wrong too. But some of the girls I know are quite happy with the way things are. They know the chances of being selected in the ten-percent pool are minimal and they’d rather get the op out of the way early. Personally, I’d never volunteer to sign away my right to kids. Who says I might not be part of the ten percent? If I’ve already had the op, I’ve already sealed my fate. I think it’s beyond foolish.”
“I totally agree. I … I’d love to have kids,” I admit, sheepishly. I’ve never told anyone that. “And a husband.” A faint blush blooms in my cheeks.
“So would I,” Jenna says. Her eyes glaze over and I know she’s dreaming of a future that’s well out of reach.
I should know. It takes a dreamer to recognize a dreamer.
“I thought you were all about the fun,” I say, getting into my stride now.
“A little fun along the way doesn’t do any harm.” She smirks and I laugh. “You should totally indulge in some fun with that hottie from the cafeteria. I bet he gives good fun.”
I snicker as if I’m three years old, and it feels so good to giggle. “Oh God, I hope I never meet him again. I’d die of embarrassment.” My face is flaming and I fan my cheeks with my hands.
“That’s a Goddamn lie and you know it.” She rips my hands away from my face and stares me straight in the eye. “You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Admit it, you want him.” There’s a mischievous glimmer in her eye.
“The only thing I’m admitting is a temporary bout of insanity. I’ve never stared at any boy like that. I’ve no idea what came over me.” I inwardly cringe as I recall my wanton behavior.
“That’s because you’ve never seen anyone as hot as him before.” She twists onto her back.
“I can’t deny that. He’s totally gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Hells, yeah. I’m hoping he has a clone because I’d so like me a piece of that.” She stares off into space.
I wonder exactly what’s going through her mind. I swat her with my pillow and she shrieks. “What was that for?”
“I was trying to knock those dirty thoughts out of your head.” She chuckles darkly and I know I’ve hit my mark. “You know I don’t have any claim on him, and it’s not like he’s into me or anything, so if you want a piece of that”—I waggle my fingers in the air—“you can have at him.” Even as
the words leave my mouth, I wish to reclaim them, though I’ve no idea why.
“Delusional as well as innocent,” Jenna mutters.
“I am not,” I protest.
“I saw the way he looked at you. He’s interested, believe me. I actually can’t believe you’re so inexperienced. If you lived in my Sector, the guys would be tripping over themselves to date you.”
Nothing in her look tells me she’s toying with me. I stare at her as if she has drunk ten beers and can’t see straight. “Now who’s being delusional?”
“Sorry, hon, that’s totally your cap. Please don’t pretend like you don’t know how drop dead gorgeous you are. You’ve got that whole exotic pale gray shimmery eye thing going on, and the male preoccupation with blondes is well-renowned. And you’re a teeny, tiny thing. Guys would kill to wrap you up in cotton wool and indulge their inner protector.”
“I do get asked on dates, but I think it’s more the ‘freak factor’ than any genuine interest.”
She props up on her elbows. “What?”
“I shouldn’t have admitted that. Forget it.” I fist my hands distractedly in the comforter.
Jenna stares at me strangely. “Has anyone told you that you’re a little bit quirky, Sadie?”
I think that’s her roundabout way of saying I’m weird.
“Sure. I’m told that about twenty times a day.”
She opens her mouth to say something.
“But I’d rather not talk about that,” I preempt.
Reaching out, she squeezes my hand. “Well, I think quirky is good. Quirky is great.” She smiles reassuringly at me and my heart melts.
It feels insanely good to have a real friend, someone who actually cares about not hurting my feelings.
Our conversation dries up as the other girls arrive back in drips and drabs. We both log onto our digipads and complete the never-ending medical questionnaire.
As I sink into the downy mattress, the crisp, fresh sheets swathe my skin, and I savor the blissful feeling as I fall into a deep sleep. I don’t stir once during the night.
Saven Deception Page 4