EVALENE’S NUMBER
EVALENE’S NUMBER
Copyright © 2008 Bethany Atazadeh.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Grace House Press
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Bethany Atazadeh
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Cover design by Eight Little Pages © 2018 Grace House Press
ISBN: 978-0-9995368-5-8 (paperback), 978-0-9995368-9-6 (ebook)
Second Edition, 2018
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THE NUMBER SERIES BOOK 1
EVALENE’S NUMBER
BETHANY ATAZADEH
Grace House Press
ALSO BY
BETHANY ATAZADEH
PEARL’S NUMBER
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1
Numbering Day
E VALENE LAY IN BED with the warmth of the sun on her face and the sound of a bird chirping happily outside her window. It looked like a textbook robin, though she’d never seen one before, so she couldn’t be sure. The Grid shot down any objects, man-made or animal, that flew above 100 meters.
That made the rare bird an especially good omen for today, her thirteenth birthday. More importantly, her Numbering Day. Finally.
Lola crept into the room quietly with the breakfast tray, expecting Evalene to be sleeping. But how could she, on such a glorious day?
Hopping out of bed, Evalene impulsively gave her nanny a hug. She’d never admit it, but she was going to miss Lola. After today, Evalene officially no longer needed a nanny – hadn’t for years really – but the idea of the older woman working in the kitchen from now on put a tiny damper on an otherwise long-awaited moment.
Lola allowed the hug to last a few seconds, though it was against the rules, as if she too might be a bit nostalgic. Then the tiny woman unwrapped Evalene’s arms, patting Evalene’s soft white hands with her own, a few shades darker, frail, and wrinkled. “Let’s get you dressed, Miss Evie,” she said. “First, eat your breakfast.”
Ignoring Lola and the breakfast tray, Evalene untied her long silk robe and dropped it on the ornamental rug. She was too nervous to eat a single bite. Running over to her grand mirror along the far wall, where her beautiful ceremonial dress hung beside it, Evalene stroked the elaborate beading and lace, admiring her stunning, floor-length dress. Pure white, like the priests wore.
Lola picked up the discarded night robe and dropped it down the laundry chute. The older woman then held out Evalene’s undergarments, and once Evalene donned them, Lola carefully lifted the layers of the white dress up high so Evalene could dive under the skirt and into the stunning lace-covered fabric.
While Lola moved to the windows to pull back the floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains, letting sunlight pour into the large room, Evalene turned towards her wall-length mirror once more to admire the expensive dress. She remained standing while Lola brushed, and then curled, Evalene’s long brown hair.
The dress was soft, but heavy. She wiggled impatiently. Anticipation made it impossible to stand still, much less sit.
When Lola pronounced her done, Evalene hardly recognized the grown up thirteen-year-old in the mirror. She touched her cheek. She didn’t feel any different. Maybe the change would come once she got her Number.
Lola shyly tapped her on the shoulder. Evalene turned to find the tiny woman was holding out a gift, plainly-wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. Evalene ripped it open gleefully. Inside was the most beautiful blue cashmere scarf. The color of the sky on a cloudless day.
“Lola,” she gasped, “You shouldn’t have!” With the little allowance the woman was given, it had to have cost at least six months’ wages.
The wrinkled old woman smiled, showing all the gaps where teeth were missing. Her slanted brown eyes nearly disappeared as they always did when she was happy. “Presents on Numbering Day is good luck, Miss Evie.”
Sighing in happiness, Evalene stroked the soft fabric. She smiled and held it against her cheek, feeling its touch like a sign from God.
Lola clasped her hands over her own deep-brown dress. Glowing with an almost maternal pride, she told Evalene, “It covers your tattoo, like a proper lady.”
Evalene touched the unbroken skin on the left side of her neck. She grimaced at the thought of a needle there. But it would be worth it. Though children were automatically considered a part of their parents’ class, Evalene was dying to lay claim to her own Number.
While Lola bent to pick up the shredded newspaper scattered around their feet, Evalene lifted her hair to avoid crushing her curls and carefully wrapped the short scarf loosely around her neck once, tucking the tails under so it looked like a thick necklace.
The soft blue matched her eyes perfectly, emphasizing the brightest hues and drawing attention to her favorite feature. Blue was her future color, the color of the highest class of Numbers.
Lola finished tidying and stood. She saw Evalene admiring the gift in the mirror and gasped.
“Miss Evie, no!” she yelled, yanking the scarf off Evalene’s neck so roughly a few hairs were caught in it and pulled from Evalene’s head.
Sucking in a sharp breath at the twinge of pain, Evalene frowned, too surprised to be angry. “What in the Number One’s name was that for? Are you taking it back?”
Cringing, Lola ducked her head, but she didn’t apologize. “Miss Evie,” she told the floor, “it is very, very bad luck to wear a color before your Number is given to you. We must never assume…” She crossed herself and muttered a prayer.
Evalene rolled her eyes. “We know I’ll be in blue… Everyone knows that. Honestly Lola, you’re so superstitious.”
But she didn’t put the scarf back on.
2
The Ceremony
E VALENE RODE WITH HER father in the backseat of his favorite car. The scarf was tucked safely into one of her dress’s hidden pockets. For good luck. And because she couldn’t wait to put it on the moment the ceremony ended and show it off to all her school friends.
None of the household servants were invited to the ceremony. Mixing the classes was frowned upon in Eden. So Lola had stayed home, waving from the front door until they were out of sight.
Their driver took them through the oldest parts of town, where the streets were almost entirely made up of buildings that had survived World War III.
Evalene loved all of Eden, but she loved this city the most. Delmare was one of the few cities left in the world with buildings still standing from before the bombs.
Since the war, most cities in Eden were re-built in valleys, against rock formations and canyons formed by the bombs, still as dry and arid as a desert, with only the sturdiest plants able to survive.
Yet Delmare had remnants of the old-style buildings, as well as some of the old-world trees. Scarred and sometimes off-tilt, yet the roots of those ancient trees had held through even the worst explosions. Delmare held the Vandereth household’s largest h
ome, one of three mansions, but more importantly, it was where the Number One lived along the coast. His grand home surpassed theirs and every other high-class Number’s the way it rose five stories on the edge of the cliffs with its turrets, guard walls, elaborate gardens and pools surrounding it, like a fairytale castle.
Evalene fought the urge to tug on her father’s sleeve as he talked on his cell phone. She was a grown lady; time to start acting like it. Her chest puffed up with pride at the little device. Only a few of the other girls at school had a cell phone in their family. And none could claim theirs had Internet on it like Byron Vandereth’s did.
Obviously, his work in the government was extremely valuable. This is what she told her classmates when he didn’t show up for presentations or recitals. The truth was he hadn’t been the same since her mother died in the Bloom Rebellion four years ago. But they didn’t speak of that. Evalene didn’t want anyone reminded of the possibility her own mother could’ve been involved in the shameful rebellion. After all, even someone as young as Evalene – theoretically any one of her classmates – could be an informant.
Her classmates had nearly all graduated to their Numbers at this point. Evalene had watched over the last few months as one by one her friends moved on.
Nina Leven and Vonda Lyse had both promised to keep in touch when they graduated near the beginning of the year. But Evalene wasn’t surprised when they didn’t. Sophie Ette at least managed one short letter from her boarding school.
No one was surprised when Pha Min was Numbered 12, and joined the priesthood. But when Calham Itte and Kha Munest were both Numbered 11, future Regulators, rumors flew. So many were Numbered 11 these days. Some said the Regulator forces were beginning to look like an army. But these were just whispers.
Evalene’s birthday was near the end of the school year, so she was one of the last to leave. The only students left in her class were Osh Witt, Mazz Aker, and herself. She hoped to see all her friends at her ceremony today, although to be fair, some of their schools were too far away.
Walking into the cathedral, the priests had already lit the candles, giving the silent, old building a magical quality. The large sanctuary was eerily quiet. Any noise Evalene or her father made in the connecting entryway echoed across the room and back. Shortly after they arrived, the other guests began to appear, standing outside the sanctuary in the common room, mingling around the food and drink tables. Their chatter bounced off the walls, growing louder and louder. Evalene carefully wrapped a huge brownie in a napkin and pocketed it when no one was looking. She would give it to Lola later.
She wandered around looking for her friends while the adults congratulated her father in advance. Glancing nervously towards the sanctuary, where the ceremony would be held, Evalene wished it were time already. Her father proudly placed his hand on her shoulder and Evalene's heart beat hopefully faster.
After today, he would have more time for her. Maybe she could go with him on his business trips now that she was old enough, and had a Number. Anyone could travel if they were Numbered 1 through 16. There was no way her Number and color-class would be worse than that!
Everyone was talking and laughing so loud, her head started to hurt.
“Congratulations!”
“May God grant you a good Number.”
“How exciting, dear!”
“May your Numbering be blessed.”
“Thank you,” Evalene murmured to the blue fabric on their chests. “Many thanks. Yes. May it be so. Thank you.”
Though Evalene spied a few school friends, she suddenly felt nervous, wanting to be alone. The large coat closet offered safe refuge from all the watching eyes in the main room. After checking that she was alone, Evalene buried into the far back behind the fluffiest coats. The furs tickled her nose.
Eyes closed, she pictured what was coming. The short walk from the back of the room to the altar, like when a bride met her groom. But unlike those brides, who wore their class colors, Evalene would wear white – the color of purity and of the priesthood. Another large difference would be the man at the front: not her future husband, just short, balding Father Alfred. He would read on and on in his deep baritone voice, sharing the history of Eden for the millionth time.
As if everyone didn't already know. As if they didn't hear it multiple times a year at other Numbering Ceremonies. Evalene had heard it four times already just this month. And for families who went to services regularly, like the Vandereths, they heard a shortened version every single Sunday as well.
“We endured great trials and tribulations,” Father Alfred always began, using all his favorite tragic words, enunciating like a television broadcaster. “Our world was falling apart. The disasters of World War III, worse than anyone could have predicted. The terror and fighting escalated. Paper money became worthless. So many deaths over the simplest things. Food. Water. The bombs, impossible to survive without underground shelter, killed those that starvation did not. The entire surface of our world, destroyed before our eyes. So few people left, yet still we fought each other. Until one day our great leader rose up with a message from the Lord that would save us all.”
Just like a politician, Evalene’s mother had said once, shortly before she died, to use God as a tool so no one can argue. Sliding down the wall, Evalene sat on the floor, hidden behind the coats. On and on, Father Alfred would drone about the man now known as Number One. How God had revealed to this man that He'd created every human being with a Number. A Number that declared their place and the impact they could have on the world.
It was so simple. Evalene absently stroked the tassels on the bottom of a sky-blue coat in front of her. She couldn't even imagine how the old world had functioned before people knew their Numbers. Her father was so obviously a Number Four, with his grasp of politics, math, sciences, history, literature, economics, and the old languages.
The most talented and genius minds were naturally given the superior numbers of the higher classes, like the Number One, while those meant to serve and support were given lower numbers, not out of lesser value, but as subordinates. Dependents. It just made sense.
Father Alfred often reminded everyone that, “Every Number is valuable, if they know their place. While the rest of the world fights among themselves, starving, unable to make any progress or advance in the world, we in Eden have no fear of war. When Numbers know their place, they do not go hungry or worry for their safety. Everyone is protected. Everyone is fed. Everyone is happy. We are proud of our Number, proud to serve, wherever we are!”
As she heard the crowds moving into the sanctuary, the ceremony minutes from starting, Evalene’s fingers itched to do something. She braided the different strands of the blue tassels together as she pictured Daeva, the Number 24 housekeeper who ran their current Vandereth household staff.
The woman’s voice was so deep and strangled, it sounded like a dog's growl. With lines permanently etched in her forehead from constant scowling, Daeva always yanked her prematurely grayed hair back in a tight bun, displaying her Number tattoo, obeying the law to keep lower Numbers visible in public, though she rarely went out. Daeva was an awful woman. It made sense to Evalene that her Number was low.
Evalene cringed. Her mother would have chastised her immediately for such a thought.
But it was true!
Dropping the strings altogether, Evalene clenched her fists. She would never forget the day Daeva appeared on the news to be publicly rewarded as an informant, shortly after the Bloom Rebellion. Though the idea of an informant made sense to Evalene in theory, as she wanted the country to reach its full potential just like everyone else, she’d stared at the television in shock, trying to hide her reaction in case they were observing through the screens, as Daeva spoke out against her own family, her husband and two teenage sons.
She’d reported them with not one, but two treasonous Bibles in their possession, and when questioned, they’d admitted to being heathens, or in their words, “true believers.” Thi
s cult believed they could actually read and understand the Bible on their own, as well as pray to God by themselves, without the help of a Priest or the Number One.
Maybe Daeva had assumed they would spend a month or two in jail, instead of hanging, but Evalene still couldn’t believe Daeva’s passionate belief in the Number system led her to expose her own family.
Evalene tried not to wonder what she would’ve done if she’d known her mother was a traitor. Would she have informed on her family as well? This always led her to wonder if her father had known. They’d never discussed it.
But of course, Evalene thought as she stood up in the closet, it was irrelevant now. Her mother was gone, and the future awaited her.
Scurrying out of the coat room into the hallway, she picked up her pace, worried she was late for her own ceremony, and bumped into one of the priests as he shuffled towards her.
“Miss Vandereth,” he spoke softly, bowing slightly to show respect in the formal atmosphere, his white robes revealing the tips of his shoes as he bent. “The Ceremony is about to start. We must get you to your place.”
But Evalene ruined the somber mood by clapping excitedly. “Oh yes, Father Benjamin! This is the best day of my life!” She grinned, then grabbed his arm in a panic, looking into his eyes. “What if I’m Numbered as low as an 8 or a 9? Or worst of all, a 10! How will I ever live it down?”
His wise eyes smiled even though his mouth barely moved. “Miss Vandereth, I very much doubt you need to concern yourself with that.”
She smiled back at him, nodding. He tucked her hand under his arm, briskly turning them both towards the sanctuary, where the ceremony music trickled out.
As they stepped through the tall doorway into the back of the sanctuary, the priest let go of her arm, moving to stand along the back wall with the other clergy. The sun shone brightly through the stained-glass windows as it began to set. The mix of the candles and the sun created a warm, golden glow, and the high ceilings made the sound of her footsteps echo, causing the guests from the party, who now filled in the many rows between Evalene and the front of the room, to twist in their seats and stare at her.
Evalene's Number: The Number Series Page 1