Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  “Lily.”

  “Clark, hi,” I started stupidly. “I know that we don’t really know each other, but I need to ask you something.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily, but I really have to go,” he said, turning away once more.

  “No, wait!” My hand closed around his elbow again. “Clark, I really want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “My family…and the Commission.”

  “I can’t tell you anything about that,” he said. “I can’t reveal anything that happens in the Commission meetings. Those are the rules.”

  “I know,” I assured slowly, looking over his near-frantic expression. “But…Clark, are you always this nervous?”

  “What?” I did not realize it was possible for his eyes to get more fearful until I asked the question.

  “You look terrified,” I noted, suspicious. “Why are you so nervous all the time? Is it because of the Commission?”

  Clark’s eyes moved upward and I followed his gaze. I turned to the balcony to see that none of the Commish Kids were dancing. There was a small group of them standing next to the railing, looking over the club like royalty surveying their subjects.

  Only, they were not looking casually around the club—they were looking directly at us.

  I stared at the four Commish Kids in shock before turning nervously to Clark. Once again, I was surprised. Clark’s entire demeanor had changed. He was challenging them, staring at them as if telling them that they had no right to look down on him.

  The group backed away from the railing, the final girl’s eyes lingering on me one moment longer before she, too, turned her back to the rest of the club.

  Clark sighed heavily, his nervousness returning once we were no longer under scrutiny.

  “You should not be talking to me,” he warned.

  “What the hell?” I gasped. “What was all that?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I might soon.”

  He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, adjusting his glasses with a shaking hand.

  “I know.” His voice was full of regret. “I’m sorry, Lily. I understand that you have no influence over this situation…”

  “Wait, Clark. Please, can you just tell me if it’s true that the Commission has been talking about letting my family in?” I pressed. My heart was thumping against my ribs as I watched his reaction. He closed his eyes again, his head dropping.

  “Mr. Christenson has taken a great interest in your family,” he admitted. “And I mean a great interest…”

  My stomach turned.

  “Does that mean…”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, his gaze locked on my feet, his voice quiet. “But, generally, if you have Mr. Christenson interested…you’re in.”

  I had to close my eyes and focus on keeping myself from collapsing as nausea consumed me. If my family got involved in the Commission of the People, I would be locked in the world of politics for life—exactly where I did not want to be.

  “Lily,” Clark said slowly, finally raising his eyes though he did not hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, “for your sake, I hope that Mr. Christenson’s interest is only in the work your father does.”

  The words put my nerves even more on edge.

  “What do you mean?”

  Clark’s expression became pained.

  “I wish I could tell you,” he said. “But if Mr. Christenson’s current fascination is anything to judge by…you and I are in the same boat.”

  He turned and disappeared into the crowd of dancing students before I could gain my bearings enough to ask more questions. I was so frightened, I simply stood in the middle of the dance floor, trying to wrap my mind around the possible new direction of my life, unaware of the sea of movement around me as the bass continued to pulse through Archangel.

  I was not sure how many songs passed before I felt arms around my waist. I whirled around to Devon’s smiling face, laughing nervously and forcing myself to relax.

  “You looked lonely out here by yourself,” he said, swaying us both. “I thought I would come and dance with you.”

  I laughed again, unable to help the nervous habit, and then I leaned forward and hugged him, my head against his shoulder as I took a deep breath. I needed someone to help me stand temporarily while I tried to pull myself out of my terrifying thoughts. He continued to sway with me to the song’s slow, heavy bass, his arms holding me upright.

  “Hey, are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” I said, finally looking up at him. “I’m sorry…”

  He looked into my eyes before taking a deep breath and shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “You made me sad,” he told me. “Someone as beautiful as you should never have such a sad look on her face.”

  I smiled genuinely but I had to look away, embarrassed by his words.

  “You don’t take compliments well,” he noted with a grin. “For making me that upset, you owe me a few dances.”

  “A few?”

  “Yes.” His bright expression managed to bring a smile to my face once more. “We’ll do our eavesdropping rounds together.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  I did not care about Jill’s jealousy. I wanted to be with someone who would take my mind off of the Commission. We moved to the edge of the room as we danced, his hands never leaving my waist, which helped keep me grounded in the moment.

  When we finally made it to another seating area in another portion of the club, we slowed our dancing to listen to the closest group.

  “—that Jessica Bevins is going to get another younger sibling.”

  “Unbelievable,” a boy groaned. “Her dad is making babies like no other.”

  “She’s upset, since this will be her fourth half-sibling—”

  We moved as Devon danced away from the group—apparently, that was not worthy gossip.

  We passed through group after group, listening to bits of conversations. I did not hear anything of interest for me, particularly since I did not know who anyone was talking about. I just followed Devon’s lead, eventually blocking out all the conversations and dancing to turn off my troubled thoughts. Occasionally, I would glance at the balcony, paranoid that I was being spied on once more. Every time I looked there were two different Commish Kids leaning against the railing, casually scanning the crowd—it was creepy.

  The realization that I would likely be one of them made my heart plummet into the floor for the umpteenth time that evening. I turned to Devon and smiled weakly.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I lied. “Did I pay back my debt?”

  “Yes.”

  He walked with me back to the table, though we had to hug the edge of the dance floor to make it back to our group of friends.

  “Hey, you two,” Becca greeted as we approached the table. “How was it?”

  “Good.”

  “Hear anything interesting?”

  “Nope,” Devon answered for us. “Pretty dull tonight.” He turned to me. “Water?”

  “Yes, please.”

  As he slipped away, Becca smiled.

  “You really like him,” she noted.

  “I don’t know,” I murmured. “I like him…but…”

  “But what?”

  “Jill likes him, too,” I whispered, nodding to Jill, who was talking with Taylor about something else. Becca looked between Jill and me, blinking in surprise.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Pretty damn sure.”

  “…Huh.”

  Becca’s reaction was not what I expected, so I stared at her expectantly, my eyes wide.

  “Huh? That’s it?” I gawked. Becca looked confused and a little dazed, which was a reaction that made no sense to me. “Tell me what I should do!” I hissed. “You know her best.”

  “Um…I don’t know.” Becca shrugged. “This is news to me…”

  Her reaction was puzzling, but before I c
ould ask her anything else, Devon returned. Jill noticed him and smiled broadly, cutting off Taylor in the middle of her sentence.

  “Hey, Devon, wanna dance with me?” she asked. I looked to Becca pointedly with my eyebrows raised.

  “Sorry, Jill, I’m tired. Maybe in a little bit,” Devon said. She pouted, half-playful.

  “Fine,” she whined. “I’ll go by myself.”

  I busied myself gulping down water. I heaved a breath of relief when I had downed two-thirds of the glass and smiled at Devon once Jill was out of sight.

  “Thank you for doing the rounds with me.”

  “No problem.” He turned to Becca. “What about you, beautiful? Have you done your rounds, yet?”

  “Nope.” Her tone was clipped and short. As I watched her stare into her own glass, I noticed that somewhere in the time we had returned to the table and that moment, her entire demeanor had changed. Devon made a confused face at me, seeing the change as well, but he shrugged it off while I turned back to Becca for two more seconds.

  Drawing a deep breath, I gulped down the rest of my water, feeling things become even more turbulent.

  * *** *

  My friends met me in the downtown area the next morning to take me shopping. My mother gave me some spending money and then told me that I could use my card up to five hundred dollars. Her generosity surprised me—I assumed it was because she was thrilled that I was starting to act like a teenage girl instead of a hermit.

  The first store was a large clothing store where I played dress-up for my friends. It got to the point where I was sure they were pulling anything they could off the racks just for fun.

  After the second store, I had spent three hundred dollars on clothes for Archangel and my friends decided it was time to cart me over to the make-up store, teaching me the various products they had used on me in previous weeks.

  Armed with everything I could possibly need for Club Archangel, we all returned to my house, laughing and joking as if we had been friends for years. All the awkwardness of the situations we had been in the previous weeks at Archangel was gone and the naïve part of me wanted to believe that the tensions would just fade with time.

  Once at my house the other girls showed me how to put on my makeup, explaining that I was expected to make a habit of making myself look pretty. I reluctantly agreed, too tired to defend my minimal morning routine.

  We passed the afternoon in the way groups of girls did—talking and talking, not sure how we strayed from one topic to the next. My friends ended up staying for dinner, where my parents also had fun talking with them, though I could tell that my father was feeling a little outnumbered by the number of girls. My mother, conversely, was relishing in the girl-talk.

  I hated to admit that I was enjoying it, too. I was starting to change, and I could not help but wonder how much more Central would change my life.

  Chapter Eleven

  The only thing that made school fun was Mr. McDermott. Even though we spent a full two weeks going over only two chapters, discussing the policies of teenage pregnancy—since Ankell had become a teen parent—his alcoholic behaviors, and the hatred he had for his country was fascinating enough to make the weeks fly by in the blink of an eye. Compared to Lit class, all my other classes were too boring and standardized.

  But it only took two weeks to change my life completely.

  I could feel the walls closing in around me. I was haunted by the inevitability of joining the Commission of the People. My life would no longer be my own. I was sure the Commish Kids were always watching me, judging if I was worthy enough to become part of their elite circle. Horrible nightmares caused me to wake up panicked and sweaty, unable to discern nightmares from reality and causing my groggy brain to mull over my anxieties during the day, unable to focus on anything else.

  Clark scanned me Fridays at Archangel with a silent look of sympathy. I tried to talk to him again, but I was never able to stop him from disappearing into the dancing crowd once he saw me move toward him. He was too evasive. Even the gossip among the students had changed to rumors that I was going to become a Commish Kid even though I was so new to Central.

  Being the subject of such whispers made it impossible not to panic about the direction my life was going. As far as I was concerned, the gossip was my proof that my family was already in the Commission of the People.

  It was Wednesday when we received the news.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table cutting apples for a pie with my mother when my father returned home earlier than usual.

  “Karen? Lily?”

  “We’re in the kitchen, honey!” my mom called.

  My father darted into the kitchen, throwing his briefcase down and running to my mother, scooping her up to spin her around the kitchen with a beaming grin.

  “This is it!”

  “What are you doing?” she giggled.

  “We got in!”

  “What are you talking about? Thomas, you’re—”

  “Read this,” he gasped, shoving a folded letter into my mother’s hands. My stomach was in knots.

  This was it.

  We were in the Commission of the People.

  I felt the urge to cry, or scream or run away, but barely managed to stay in my seat. My mother unfolded the piece of paper and her eyes darted back and forth across the page.

  “Oh my God, Thomas!” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. “This is incredible!”

  My father kissed my mother back and then passed the letter to me.

  “We’ve made it into the Commission of the People!”

  I forced a wobbly smile and took the letter, my father wrapping his arms around my shoulders and planting a kiss on my cheek. My mother quickly began talking about who we were going to meet and the honor that came with being a part of the Commission of the People, my father immediately joining the excited chatter.

  I silently read the letter.

  Mr. Thomas Gregory Sandover,

  Due to your recent achievements on the NMW Region Seventh Route Expansion we wish to extend an invitation for you to join the Commission of the People, a branch of Central under the leadership of Mr. Dana Christenson.

  Mr. Christenson personally invites you to attend a ceremony to be held during the next meeting of the Commission of the People on Saturday, September 7th, at 10:00 p.m. in honor of your appointment. During this ceremony, you and your family will be informed of rules and regulations within the Commission of the People, as well as receive a personal welcoming gift from Mr. Christenson.

  We must remind you that the Commission of the People requires you to remain silent about your appointment to those outside your family until you have been inducted. Your names will then be announced on the new members list. This order of silence is in effect until the date of Sunday, September 8th.

  The meetings for the Commission of the People starts precisely at 10:00 p.m. every Saturday evening. For your first trip to the Commission of the People headquarters a driver will bring you and your family to the meeting on September 7th. After this meeting you are expected to bring yourself and your family on time to consecutive meetings.

  Congratulations. We look forward to working with you.

  Sincerely,

  Danielle Markus

  First Advisor of the Commission of the People

  “What do you think, Lily?” my dad gasped, leaning over my shoulder to look at the letter proudly. I could see the excitement in his eyes, so I smiled, trying to banish the suspicious fears in my gut.

  “I’m so happy for you, Dad.”

  “Be happy for all of us!” He beamed, hugging me tightly again. “It’s going to be great, Lily. I promise.”

  * *** *

  “Little Lily…”

  The voice was calling me again.

  I felt fear rocket through my body as the words tickled down my spine. My eyes opened, finding myself in the grass of our backyard. I lifted my head, terrified and confused. Everything seeme
d darker, the shadows were thicker, and somewhere within the darkness, someone was watching me. I stood to look around, hearing noises and quiet whispers from all angles.

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive…” a quiet voice hissed behind me.

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive…” another voice laughed to my left.

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive…”

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive…”

  I tried to determine the sources, but I saw no one in the shadows. I backed away, turning to my house, which was just as devoid of light and cold as the surrounding darkness.

  The voices got louder, laughing as they repeated their ominous message. My heart was pounding, panic swelling into a hot ball in my throat.

  Even though my house was dark and obviously-not-safe, I ran to the glass door and tried to force it open. The sliding door would not budge.

  I looked up and caught sight of my own wide-eyed, frightened reflection. Behind me, a tall, menacing figure loomed, its features indiscernible.

  I screamed, running, using the darkened windows as mirrors to tell if the figure was following. In every window I saw the figure standing silently behind me. I could not escape him no matter how fast I ran. He was always waiting for me in the next reflection.

  I stopped running and turned, attempting another direction, but I tripped over my own feet and fell heavily to the ground, the dirt biting into my knees and hands.

  I saw the dark shadow approach. He glided closer and closer, his menacing aura choking out all air around me. I screamed again and turned to crawl away, but the shadow was suddenly in front of me. I stared at it, breathing hard, terror coursing through my veins like icy needles.

  The shadow leaned over me, encompassing me in its arms as the voices started again.

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive…”

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive.”

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive.”

  “You’re gonna get eaten alive!”