Shymers

by Jen Naumann

  “Olive!” Harrison calls after me.

  I don’t stop. I continue running until I am outside, beyond the canopies. The sun has begun setting behind the earth, but still gives off warm and harmful rays that burn red-hot against my skin. I stop to bend over with my hands resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

  The orphanage is surrounded by great big walls of metal, keeping us from having a life beyond here. There is nowhere to run. We’re stuck inside this orphanage. I wonder if this is how my mother feels in suspension. Is she even allowed to speak to other people? Do they ever let her out of the room with bars that Kai had described?

  “Where…do you think you’re going?” Harrison asks between huffs. “Get out of the sun!”

  I look over at him. One of his feet rests beyond the canopies as he decides if he wants to step out or not. “I have to get away from this place,” I say in choked sobs. “I can’t stay here!”

  Harrison tilts his head back briefly before jogging over to where I stand. His expression remains hard, although for once his resentment is directed at something other than me. “Believe me, I know how you feel. You need to understand that there is no place else for you to go. What would you do for food? Where would you sleep? If there was any other way, I wouldn’t still be here. You’re going to have to learn to adjust, Olive. Your mother is in suspension. This is your new home. This is your life now.”

  I shake my head. Giant tears splash down on my cheeks. “It can’t be.”

  He glances around again, most likely worried that we will get into trouble for our rebellious exchange. The yard remains completely empty of guardians, or even other Shymers. We are alone.

  When he looks back down on me this time, his expression is softer. “You have no other choice.”

  I shake my head. “You’re wrong about that.”

  His eyes fill with confusion when his brows dip down. “Why? What do you think you can do?”

  I can run,I think to myself.

  Instead of telling him that, I brush past him and walk away.

  * * *

  My second night in the orphanage is filled with intermittent sleep. The mattress is hard, although a bit more pleasant than the ground I had been sleeping on since we had to leave our home. The room is filled with strange noises as the girls around me whimper and cry out in their dreams. I wrap my arms around myself and cry silent tears.

  When the sun rises, I follow the line of girls to the dark lavatory. I am able to figure out how to run the shower by sneaking glances at the others. At first the water is way too hot, causing me to squeal out in surprise and a few girls to stare my way. Once the temperature drops, the experience of it beating down on my back is surprisingly soothing. I spend more time in there than anyone else.

  There is a small room with a curtain in the back of the lavatory where I change into the white tank top and gray cotton shorts I was given by one of the guardians the night before. Now I really blend in with the others, looking plain and unremarkable.

  The lavatory is lined with mirrors, but no matter how much I twist my head I am unable to see my mark. I use a brush left on the ledge to rake through my wet hair, deciding to leave it down. Most of the Shymer girls wear their hair plain, and I don’t want to stand out.

  When I return to the cot where I slept the night before, the shirt my mother gave me for my birthday is gone. A dark sadness sweeps through me when I realize I don’t have anything from home—nothing to remind me of my mother or the life that has been taken from me.

  The whole way down to the dining hall I have to fight back tears. I stand in line behind the other Shymers, speaking quietly to each other in dull tones. Suddenly, Harrison is yelling my name. I don’t turn to him. My feelings of anger and hurt are so out of control that I know he will see it on my face.

  “Olive, wait up!” he calls, stopping when our bodies nearly touch. The heat from him radiates onto me, making my toes do the strange tingling thing again. His lips tug at the corners for an almost-there-smile. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” I say, giving my own version of what is probably an equally pathetic smile. I look away before he can see the moisture still lingering in my eyes.

  “Bree asked how you were doing this morning. I told her I would make sure you found your way to the shuttle in time.”

  I turn back to him. His blue eyes are bright and filled with some kind of hope. What does he want from me? One minute he acts like he hates me, and then I catch him looking at me like this. How could Bree have asked him such a thing from her home? Better yet, why does he care?

  Then I remember the communicators they would both have. I almost wish I had one, just to stay in contact with Bree.

  “Yesterday you acted like you wanted nothing to do with me. What made you change your mind?” I ask. “Are you just trying to make Bree happy by being nice to the new girl?” My words, full of venom, accomplish their intended effect.

  He squirms uncomfortably, any pleasant expressions of hope or happiness gone. A dark look blankets his face as his eyebrows lower. “Find your own way then.”

  “I will,” I say.

  I skip breakfast and follow the other Shymers to the shuttle station, walking briskly to keep up. Bree greets me with the brightest of smiles, but it fades the second she sees the sour look on my face.

  “What happened, Olive? Are you okay? Why isn’t Harrison isn’t with you?”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  She folds her arms with her face scrunched. “I asked him to make sure you got here this morning. Where is he?”

  “I told him I didn’t need his help.”

  With a glance over my shoulder, I see Harrison standing with the greasy-haired boy from the day before. They are having another heated conversation.

  Bree cocks her head. “Are you mad at him about something?”

  I blush. Is it that easy to see just how much Harrison can get to me? “Not really. I’m just so lost in this world, where everyone seems so sad and hopeless. Then there are these ridiculous rules and expectations that don’t make any sense to me. I don’t belong here, Bree. I have to leave. I have to return to the Free Lands.”

  She drops her arms. “How do you think you’re going to get there, Olive? They won’t just let you walk away. Not with your mother in suspension. Not when you don’t even know your DOD. You have to be a Future to be allowed any kind of freedom in Society.”

  I shake my head. I wish I could tell her the truth. “You don’t get it! I don’twant to know my DOD! I don’t want to live this sad life where nothing seems to matter if you’re a Shymer! You shouldn’t have to live this way, Bree! No one should!”

  When I am done yelling, I stop short. All the kids gathered at the station stare at me, their eyes wide in shock just like the day before when Bree told me about my Shymer mark. Even Harrison is gazing at me now with his eyes narrowed. A set of soldiers work their way closer to the crowd.

  Bree grabs my arms so tightly it hurts. “Keep your voice down,” she hisses.

  “Or what?” I ask. I do take care to lower my voice, however. I wouldn’t want to get Bree into trouble because of my tantrum. “Are they going to throw me into suspension just for causing a scene?”

  My eyes fill with tears and my face flushes with the fury raging through me. I don’t care if they lock me away. Maybe there I would at least get to see my mother. The soldiers stop moving, waiting for more commotion. When we remain quiet, they turn back.

  Bree stares at me, unsure of what to say. The shuttle pulls in, bringing a gust of warm air with it. When the doors pop open, I spring forward and follow the sea of kids inside. Before taking the same seat I shared with Bree the previous day, I catch Harrison watching me. His expression bears the strangest resemblance to concern. Just as warm feelings begin to creep through me, his eyes snap over to the window.

  * * *

  In the days that follow, I keep to myself and stay quiet as is expected of a Shymer. Each day is spent
exactly as the last—waking to shower and eat breakfast, going for a day of lessons, returning back to the orphanage, doing chores, and eating a bland dinner before going to sleep on the little cot in the room filled with the other Shymers.

  There is one day, however, when we don’t attend lessons and instead spend the entire day working at our selected job. I scrub the hallway floors with two other girls who won’t speak to me. By the end of the day, I am so stiff and sore that I fall asleep the instant my head hits my pillow.

  No one in the orphanage will open up when I try to start a conversation, so eventually I quit trying. Harrison even keeps his distance from me, although he has little choice in the matter. I refuse to even look his way.

  Lessons are torturous as they drag by as I have already written this lifestyle off. I feel sorry for everyone—both Shymers and Futures alike. I can’t imagine having spent my entire childhood locked up in a school. I was given the afternoons to explore the forest and play. My parents taught me much more valuable things in life in much shorter lessons.

  A few times when crossing the hallways of the orphanage, I run into Director Mahr. His angry stare is unfaltering, making me terrified of what he may do or say. Before long, I am glancing down hallways before entering them, passing through quickly to avoid the unwanted contact.

  I spend all my free time between lessons and during the tasteless lunches with Bree. Despite Kai’s unhealthy and foolish habit, I really grow to like her a lot too. She is one of the few Shymers who doesn’t seem to be completely hopeless, even though she is also in an orphanage and will be dead before long. I can always count on her for laughter and jokes. Her off-beat humor is better than the dull looks and somber moods that I am learning to be a trademark of the Shymers.

  One day at lunch, Bree and I approach the group and Kai calls out, “Hey, Free Timer.” Although her smile is big, her eyes look more drooped with every day that passes and her cough is becoming progressively worse.

  “Don’t call her that,” Harrison snaps.

  My mouth drops. I turn to find him looking down at his plate, picking at his lunch with a fork.

  “Why not?” Kai challenges. She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “What doyou care what I call her?”

  Whatdoeshe care? Hasn’t he made it clear by now that he doesn’t like me for whatever reason? He chews for a minute before looking up and realizing everyone is staring at him, waiting for him to answer Kai. His face turns a dark shade of red. “Idon’t.”

  The other Shymers—except for Bree and Kai—break back into their separate conversations. I sit down in the grass between my new friends and set my tray in front of me.

  “Hereally doesn’t like you,” Kai whispers to me. As always, her laugh turns into a wicked cough. By now I should be used to that horrible noise and the way her face turns red, as if she is actually choking on something. Yet I can’t stop worrying about her.

  “Of course he does,” Bree whispers, her eyes hard on Kai. “He just doesn’t know how to deal with justhow much he likes her.”

  Kai ignores Bree, grinning at me. “It’s too bad the two of you aren’t Rebels. Maybe then you could have some kind of actualrelationship.”

  My stomach flutters excitedly at the thought. My parents told me many stories of the Rebels and their fight against the rules of Society. I hadn’t realized before just how extreme the rules of Societywere. I always got the feeling that if it weren’t for their determination to keep me safe, my parents would have joined the Rebel cause.

  “Are there Rebels here, at this school?” I ask Kai.

  She laughs again, this time the noise sounding like more of an inside joke she is keeping to herself. “Yeah, there are some around. I’m surprised you don’t know any. They’re kind of like you and your family—against the system and everything.”

  “They’retrouble,” Bree corrects her. “That’s what they are.”

  Kai waves her off with a flick of her hand. “You probably have never even met one.”

  Bree frowns. “And youhave?”

  Kai shrugs and pops a grape into her mouth. “I think there are a lot of things about me that would surprise you, Bree.”

  “Tell me more about these Seers,” I say to them. “Who are they? How do they predict DODs?”

  Kai shrugs. “They’re just regular people born with an unusual chromosome. My parents said it happened because of all the synthetic hormones they used to put in our milk and food.”

  “Then we wouldallbe Seers,” Bree says to her.

  “Anyway,” Kai continues, “the government discovered these people have the ability to use the part of the brain the rest of us don’t know how to tap into, and they know someone’s DODs by just touching their skin. They see the person’s life flashing in front of their eyes and thenbam! They know the exact date it’s going to happen. Creepy, huh?”

  Are Seers frightened by what they can do? Do they enjoy telling people when they’re going to die? I shiver. “But you said Seers can be wrong. How does the government know when they are wrong?”

  “It almost never happens,” Bree reminds me.

  “But still,” I say. Nothing would make me happier to discover the Seers were wrong about all of my new friends—that they had given them the wrong DOD and that they actually would live past eighteen. “Can you just walk up to a Seer and ask them if your DOD has changed?”

  “Maybe, if you could actually find one,” Kai answers. “There aren’t too many around anymore. The ones that still work for the government are on some kind of lockdown. Some people say a lot of them were killed because they refused to work for the government. I personally think they all went into hiding somewhere.”

  “Kai, you have the strangest ideas,” Bree grumbles.

  Kai reels around to face her. “My parents were taken into suspension because theyknew stuff, Bree. You don’t think I learned anything from them before they left?”

  “Not so loud,” Bree says quietly, pleading with her eyes. “You’ll get us all into trouble.”

  I glance over at the other groups of Shymers, but they are too far away from us to hear anything. My eyes stumble across Harrison to find him staring at me yet again. Although his mouth and jaw are both held tight, there is a glimmer behind his eyes.

  All at once, I can truly feel it.

  Harrisondoesn’t hate me. He is trying to pretend he does only because he has started to feel something for me, just as Bree said. It’s a feeling that a Shymer isn’t really given the luxury of having and a feeling I have never known myself until now. It would explain the strange ways my body keeps reacting to him when he is near. All this dislike and anger toward me is artificial. He doesn’t know what else to do.

  I dip my chin and give him shy smile. His eyes snap off of mine as he stands and darts away from our group.

  Harrison

  8 – More Than Friends

  I have tried everything I can think of to get Olive out of my mind since the day Bree first brought her to us. But it’s hopeless. Even when I close my eyes at night, I can still see her bright smile and hear her gentle voice. I can’t deny that I feel something really deep for her either. It started when she almost fainted outside of the shuttle. Holding her in my arms sparked all kinds of foreign feelings that I couldn’t push away. She smelled amazing and her skin was so soft. I even let my hand brush against her smooth hair just to see what it would feel like, and was surprised to find it incredibly soft as well.

  As much as I try to ignore the strange pounding of my heart when she is near, my need to see her more only grew when she started talking about Society and how she thinks the way we’re treated is wrong. Olive is the first Shymer I’ve come across who is passionate about things and even shares the same views as the Rebels. This makes it even more difficult to not want to be with her.

  Her passion stirred up all the memories of my father, and how I was ready to join the Rebels just before my family died. My mother’s last wish stays with me, however, and
I know there is nothing I can do.

  I know it’s natural for guys to have feelings for girls. Still, what would anything between two Shymers accomplish? It’s not like we have any kind of a future together. I will never even live long enough to see my adulthood. Olive may not have much time left either. It’s not like we could ever get married and start a family. That kind of life is only possible for Futures. Any kind of a relationship between us would be pointless and a waste of her time.

  I thought I was doing a good job of avoiding her and ignoring any thoughts of us being together until today at lunch when she smiled at me. With just the curl of her lips and the sparkle of her bright green eyes, those feelings I’ve worked so hard to push aside came rushing back to the surface to the point they were choking me. I had to run away from there and clear my head.

  Just before I left, I caught a glimpse of her beautiful face. Her eyes were watering and her lips were pressed together. My stomach was hit with a load of bricks when I realized I had upset her. Why am I always hurting her?

  With the day’s lessons finished, I ride on the shuttle in the usual spot next to Zeke. As always, he complains about the way the government is not doing anything more active about the Rebels. I usually try to keep my mouth shut around him, knowing it will only set him off if he were to learn what I really think of Society, but my feelings have been all over the place lately—especially when I catch sight of the back of Olive’s blond head from her usual spot beside Bree.

  “Do you ever think that maybe Society is wrong?” I suddenly ask Zeke.

  His face, full of angry, red blemishes as always, is frozen and his eyes are wide. He can’t believe I would actually say such a thing to him.