by Maurice Hill
“So, where do we go now?”
She pointed her thumb at the hallway back to us. “Over there and around the corner where everyone's scurrying like rats. Come on tumbleweed, you can follow me.”
I looked perplexed. “Tumbleweed? What the Hell?”
She chuckled. “It's something I call everyone new I meet. Don't take it as an insult. It's just my thing, cool? Come on, tell me about yourself. You're obviously a vain, what else do you like to do?”
We started walking down the hallway, and I searched the back of my head for my main hobbies. I smiled, and knew Christine would be impressed.
“Oh my God! I love going shopping for new clothes everyday, because you can't wear the same outfit more than three times! That's a general rule for vains!”
She nodded. “Mhm.”
“I...” I put my finger to my chin, and then snapped my fingers.
“I love to watch reality TV, update my status on my GET-A-Face-LIFE-Book page, eat then then throw up-”
“What?!” Her voice was almost a yell, sending other people to throw looks our way.
“Yeah? What's the problem?”
She shook her head. “Throwing up your food. That's a big problem. What's wrong with you?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. It's very normal. I thought you did it with how thin you are.”
“I'm thin because I have an ultra-high metabolism. The doctors diagnosed it when I was a little kid. My parents always wondered why I could eat five pizzas in a row and never get as big as them. But specifics and titles aside, all that means is I take a shit in the toilet quick. A huge one. Sometimes it has hair attached to it.”
“Eeew. Why are you telling me this?”
She snorted. “My mistake tumbleweed. I just needed to let you know not everyone thin retches their food. But I gotta tell you, it feels like a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. Like I'm a bird that broke free of its shackles and I can fly again. Hah.”
“Well, I'd rather not sit on the toilet. It's disgusting. Throwing up is better.”
“No, taking a shit is normal. And we have a word for your problem, and it's called anorexia.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please, I am NOT an anorexic.”
She chuckled. “The first thing people like you do is deny, deny, and deny. Just accept it, face the problem, and find the solution.”
I frown as we stop in front of the new choosing ceremony facility. There were at least ten doors stretching down this other hallway and hundreds of children with us waiting in line to choose their faction.
I leer at Christine.
“What?” she says, folding her arms, raising a brow.
“You know what? I don't like you all of a sudden. In fact, I think you better go into another line, and it's a shame that no matter how far you are away from me, you're still breathing the same air as I.”
She guffawed. “Girl, come on. I'm only-I'm only trying to help you out, cause from what I'm hearing, you ain't living. You're just existing. And that's the worst type of life. Why revel in the materialistic when you can learn things and see beyond the BS?”
I shrugged. “What's wrong with being vain? Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.”
She shook her head lightly and looked down the row of initiates. “Listen tumbleweed, it was nice meeting you, but my Mom always told me it's nice to learn things and investigate instead of accepting what's at face value. Hey, maybe it's cause my parents are teachers. So I got that one step ahead of others. All I know is, existing and letting the world pass you by isn't the way to live. No offense, but looking at you, hearing what you have to say, the only future in your cards is being a trophy wife to some douche-bag football player that cheats on you every night because you're no longer the flavor of the month he loves to dip in.”
“Hey! What makes you think you can say that? Bitch!”
She shrugged. “People were always saying how honest I was...but I was raised in the rambunctious faction.”
“I thought your parents were teachers? Are you sure you're not part of smart-ass?”
She grinned. “My parents' parents were rambunctious, and girl you better believe it's a war every Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's.” She swung her fists like a boxer.
“What about Kwanzaa?”
“Huh?!”
“You heard me. What about Kwanzaa? Isn't that the black Hanukah?”
Christine looked to the floor with a confused frown and back up at me. “Have a nice day Mika. You've got a Hell of a lot to learn about the world. Good luck tumbleweed.”
She waved and left me there helpless and feeling like a piece of crap.
I hung my head in shame and found that the floor was a mirror. I saw my reflection and instantly smiled.
She was just jealous that I'm better looking than her.
“Attention! Attention!” shouted some robotic voice from above. It sounded old and squeaky, like metal clashing against metal. “Mika Ock, please make your way to the front of the line for your personal ceremony test. Or else, you will be executed.”
---
Scared from the obvious cliffhanger, and since I obviously didn't want to die, I pushed everyone out of the way as I moved to the front of the line, and some tall Asian woman(also with strong European facial features) wearing tattoos on her neck and a lab coat, burst out of the door in front of me and said, “Hey, what's up?” she gave a light cough. Her voice sounded dull and bored.
I shrugged. “Um, your eyes?”
“No, they're slanted. What's up is your bitchy attitude, and the fact that you-cough! Cough!- have to take some test to determine which faction you're supposed to be in.”
“Why does everyone think I'm bitchy?”
“Cause you're a typical idiotic YA heroine. What else?” Her cough escalated.
“Are you okay Doc?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just fine.” She cleared her throat. “Just trust me.”
I tipped my head from side to side. “Okay Doc. I trust you. You Asians are pretty smart.”
“Actually, I have a terrible GPA. The only reason why I'm here is because I jumped off of a building and landed on solid ground perfectly.”
“So you're a Tricker?”
“Yeah. I'm a freakin' idiot. Hey, get the Hell in the room so we can get this over with.”
So we got in the room and there were mirrors everywhere. I jumped in glee and couldn't
contain my happiness. I felt like a kid in a candy store when I ran to every mirror laid on the walls and examined myself.
“Geez!” yelled the Asian lady, pulling up some seat that looked like it came out of a Syfy movie. There was a metal helmet above the seat, making the seat look like an electric chair.
“Sit down. We don't got much time. I want to go back home and slit my wrists, but not to kill myself, but because I think that's badass if I do that and survive.”
“Okay, okay.” I sat down in the seat, even though I was shaking like Hell. “Is this going to kill me?”
She smiled. “Not unless you want it to. You'll be experiencing something like a dream or a nightmare even. It'll feel like the first time you had sex.”
I raised my brow. “Really? So something's going to impale me down there?”
She coughed and sighed. “You know what I mean, it's going to be scary, but at the end, you're going to love it, and want to do it all the time.”
“Oh boy, I hope so.” I said, my voice straining.
She took out a notepad and said, “Okay, what race are you?”
“The master race, white.”
She looked up at me from her notepad. “Really? The master race?”
I shrugged. “Well yeah. We get all the perks. Everyone loves us. Among the vains, the whites are the most praised.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh boy. I hope you get punched in the face one day.”
“Why?”
“Because that's not cool to-you know what? Screw this.” She threw away the notepad. “Time to ta
ke your test bitch.” She put the metal helmet on my head and I felt electricity surging throughout my body. “Aaaaaah!” I yelled.
“This isn't even the worst of it!” She screamed above my pleas.
“Aaaaaah!”
My eyes closed shut uncontrollably, and I opened them back up. Suddenly, I wasn't in the room with the Asian lady and the mirrors were of course gone as well.
I found myself in a blank white space. I wouldn't even describe it as a room.
It was just an empty blank white space.
“Like your head,” said some old wrinkly woman in front of me wearing a lab coat.
She was holding a basket with a knife and bread.
“Choose. Knife, or bread?”
“Why?”
She sighed. “Just choose, I don't have the rest of my life.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, obviously. You look like you're about to keel over any second.”
She sighed. “Yeah, and my va-jay-jay is dusty instead of the one made of Gold like yours. Yadda, yadda, yadda, another stupid comeback that's not funny from you. Yadda, more bullcrap. Come on!” She yelled. “Get on with it! Knife, or bread?!”
I shrugged. “Well, considering I don't like to eat, I'd take the knife, but...Christine gave me a lot to think about. So...well, no. I don't think I'd take either. I mean, I hate knives. Whenever I touch one they prick my skin and give me this ugly black scab that completely ruins my shiny white complexion. Whenever I eat a piece of bread I gain 1% body fat. That is a no, no for not only the Ock family but the entire Vain faction.”
The old shriveled up piece of life that called herself a woman said, “You'll take neither? Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
She giggled like a little school girl who just saw her little brother step on a turd.
“This is going to be good.” She looked up to the sky. “Get the popcorn ready guys! We're gonna see quite the show!”
“What show?”
She smirked. “The show you're apart of you vain bitch! See you in the grave!”
She teleports out of the room like she were a ghost and I hear growling behind me, heavy breaths like a dog or a...
I turn around and see a freaking lion drooling, snarling, and for the first time in several days, I took a shit. Except this time it was in my pants.
The lion knelt on its legs and said, “Excuse me madam.” He had a deep British accent.
I hugged myself tight, in fear. “Yes?”
“I do believe this is the part where you're supposed to run and provide cheap suspense and entertainment for the reader. You know, to make them think you're about to die when it's obvious you're not because this is written in first person and there won't be two POV's until the third book.”
“Oh, okay. So, do I jog, sprint or run?”
He sighed. “You run.”
“Oh okay. Do I scream?”
“Yes. Damsel in distresses always scream and get picked up by Prince Charming.”
“So there will be a prince at the end of this?” I said, putting my hands up in prayer.
“We'll see. For now, I just want to eat you out-I mean, I just want to eat your entrails out.”
I screamed just as he wanted me to, and he chased after me. I felt his breath hiss at me every five seconds or so while I flapped my arms back and forth like some ragdoll flailing in the sky. Oh jeez, I hope I don't look ugly. That would suck to die ugly. If I die, I would at least love to die still beautiful and screw-able.
“Help me! Help me! A lion's chasing me for no damn reason other than just because!”
“I'll help you!” said the same man in the black suit earlier. I had forgotten about him like I usually forget about minor characters.
He held my hand while running and we found ourselves on a city bus. It was dirty, grimy, and had potato chip bags sprawled across the walkway.
“Gee, thanks for saving me mysterious creepy black suit and tie guy. What's your name?”
“Mr. Raper.”
I nodded slowly and backed away. “Okay, do your actions match your name?”
He looked down at me, taking out a newspaper and putting on thick-rimmed glasses.
“Do you know this man?”
“Huh?”
“I said do you know this man?”
He flipped the Newspaper over and showed me a picture of a man in drag-clothes, pushing two little people in a shopping cart with his mouth open in amusement.
“Eeew. God no.”
“You lie.”
“No.”
“Yes you do.”
“How could you know? I'm telling you the truth! I may be a transparent idiot, but I am telling you the God's honest truth.” I folded my arms. “Take me off this bus you creepy psycho!”
He leers down at me and narrows his brows. “Exactly. How do I know you're not lying?! You're a liar, and always have been. Liar, liar, pants on fire!”
“What are you, three years old?!”
He took out a knife and started slashing it in my direction, his face was flushed with red. “Liar! Liar!”
“Aaaaaah!” I screamed, and closed my eyes hoping it were all a dream that would go away. I opened them back up again and tried falling back to dodge the blade but found myself back in the strange chair staring up at the same Asian lady from earlier.
“Oh, hello there,” she said with the same dull tone.
She was plain faced and brought up a clipboard to her eyes, examining what was on it.
“Welcome back...my little vain Klansman. I have the results to your test.”
I turn my blue eyes into huge round blue orbs. Whatever that means. Basically, I opened my eyes wide. “You mean that whole scenario wasn't a marijuana induced simulation? That was my test?”
She checked off a box or two from behind her clipboard on the paper and nodded. “Oh don't mistake it one bit, we used marijuana for sure. That's the only way to put you in a simulation. Much like the only way to kill you is to use a death serum. Besides that-”
“Wait, how do you view the simulations if it's all in my head?”
She pointed at my helmet with her pencil dully. “See that? It's called a dream-catcher. Don't put me on blast kid, I never came up with that cheesy name. Anyway, the results are as follows: You didn't choose either the knife or the bread. Either one would have helped you out with the lion.”
“How?”
“Well, you could have killed the lion with the knife, or used the bread to feed him.”
I shrugged. “But that makes no sense. Wouldn't the lion want me more because I'm meat?”
She sucked her teeth. “Like I said before, don't put me on blast because of my superiors' incompetence. Or the author's for that matter. Just go along with it.”
She sighed, and flipped a paper over. “So that checks off smart-ass for you. As for the lion itself, at least you didn't recklessly try to fight it and get your ass torn apart. So thankfully, that puts you out of rambunctious. Running from the lion and still wondering whether you looked good or not keeps you in favor of Vain. I bet you're happy about that. Telling Mr. Raper you didn't know the man checks you off of Honest.”
“What?! I never saw that guy before in my life! How can you say I'm lying?”
“According to your brain-scan, you DID see that man before...on a subway ad for the new TV show, America's next top Drag Queen.” She looked up from her clip-board, smirking. “By the way, as a vain I'm surprised you don't watch it.”
“My parents and I hate people that are not like us. What else is there to explain?”
“Let me guess, you even call the cops when you see a black man walking around your neighborhood?”
“Yeah, of course. They don't belong in our neighborhood. There are barely any blacks in Vain, but the ones who are, are on the European-”
She put a hand up for silence. “Enough. I'm disgusted.” She looked back down at the clipboard. “Standing up to him at least puts you in with us Trickers...I suppose.”
/> “Oh Great. I'll stay with Vain. I love looking in the mirror.”
She smirked. “Now it's time for the swerve that will make you piss your pants. Want to hear what you actually scored?”
“What? I thought you said I had two choices?”
“You don't have two choices. Hell, you can't even choose your old faction. You know what those two results together gave you?”
“What?”
“Avirgent.”
That sounded like I was a virgin but that wasn't possible.
“Well, excuse me mam, but trust me I am not a virgin. I have had my fair share of men in my bed, and that does not make me a slut by the way.”
She smirked and put the clipboard down. She took off her lab-coat and changed into her biker clothes. She had tattoos all over her body just as she took all her lab clothes off and put the biker ones on. She also had a big butt and breasts. Eeew. Disgusting. Way too much body fat.
While she put her bra on she said, “Yeah, I bet that hole down there is like throwing a hotdog down a hallway huh?”
She chuckled and I didn't see the joke. “Um, what's so funny?”
She shook her head. “Your empty shallow head. Listen-” she wrapped herself in her jacket and zipped up, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. “Avirgent doesn't mean you're a virgin. It just means that you're a combination of two or more factions even when it doesn't make sense or fit your personality to be so. However, our lovely dictator of the Smart-Ass faction hates Avirgents, and wants them all executed. So, don't tell anyone you're Avirgent please. Being Avirgent is dangerous.”
“Why? Why is it so harmful? Why would she hate me for being Avirgent?”
She shrugged. “I don't know, or give a shit really.” She flicked a cigarette from her breast pocket, and a lighter. “Want one?”
“No thanks. I heard it's like anti-aging cream. Except it ages you further instead of never aging you at all.”
She sucked her teeth. “Figures. Everyone believe the rumors, but never tries it for themselves.”
“That sounds like an endorsement for smoking.”
She coughed and blew away cigarette smoke.
I scoffed. “Now I know why you cough all the time. You should get that checked out. As empty my head is, at least I know that.”