Then he leans over and very quietly whispers, “The watches.”
When I understand he’s trying to block whatever the watches are doing instead of hurt me, I relax. We keep walking and I try not to look around anymore but still feel like someone is watching me. I want to know if the watches are it. Are they just listening to us through them? Watching us through our watches? How ironic! Or is it more? Are there cameras everywhere? What have I done on them thus far? And who is on the other end watching me? Is this what Sarge meant by telling me that everything is a test?
I don’t know why, but this upsets me. I am not an animal in a cage. I deserve more than that. I try to think of a discreet way I could ask Jamie if there are cameras. I’m sure he would be honest and tell me if there were. The guards, or at least my guards, don’t seem as wrapped up in the Culling as everyone else. They have moments where I can see them as friends, instead of just guards.
Finally, after we leave the elevator, I think of a way to ask. “Hey random question. So remember when you told me there were sports played here, specifically football,” I say kind of pointing to my watch with a weird look on my face, trying to communicate with him that I’m speaking in code.
“Yes ma’am,” he responds with a smile and a nod. I know he either thinks I am a lunatic, is thinking of the nachos and hot dogs he seemed obsessed with, or he caught on to what I am trying to tell him.
“So are, I mean, were there other…” I look at the corners of the hall and back to my watch quickly, so quick I hope he notices, “Other sports? Here?”
He thinks for a moment as if trying to figure out how to answer both of my questions.
“I don’t know for sure. But I would definitely bet that there could be,” he says and nods his head up and down in an exaggerated way that makes me think there are definitely other ways we are being watched.
Great. It really is all just a competition, an ongoing and everlasting competition. How long before I do something I shouldn’t? Or have I already? They have obviously been watching us since we got here. The more important question is, why?
****
The next few days fly by in a blur as we are overloaded with new information. The good news is, the time is getting shorter and shorter until we find out about the first cuts. After chatting at dinner and laughing with some of the girls about our ridiculous etiquette class and how to do all things proper, I go to my room to unwind. We haven’t had our written test yet today since etiquette class ran long. I’m hoping we will skip it since they are completely dumb just like the first day.
I change into pajamas until I’m told otherwise. I’m not used to having to look this nice all day, every day. My feet definitely aren’t used to heels. It’s exhausting! I don’t know how Elle does it. If I’m the next Madam President, I’m going to wear slippers everywhere. I will demand it.
I lounge on my fluffy bed and go over the boys’ packet again. I’m fairly certain over the last few days I have managed to memorize them all. I sip on some tea for a while. Then seeing that it is 9 pm and being exhausted from all the hoopla this week, I decide to go to bed early and avoid thinking about the cut that should be announced tomorrow.
I jolt awake to a knock at my door. The clock on my nightstand reads 1:45 am. Before I have time to answer the door or move at all, Elle and the same man that did my verbal test a few days ago come in my room, turn on my hallway light and the lamp beside my bed, and help themselves to sit at my chairs by the coffee table.
“Sorry to interrupt your sleeping, Ms. Scott. Another verbal exam will take place now for the next ten minutes,” Elle informs me and then as if reading my mind adds, “No cuts as of yet, but this is the last big thing before the first cuts.”
Feeling tired and not in the mood for games but relieved I’m not yet going home, I retort, “Okay. Might as well call me Reagan. No need for formalities since you are in my bedroom and seeing me in my skivvies. Boy am I glad Fridays are my nude sleeping nights and not tonight.”
I just couldn’t seem to stop myself and as soon as it’s all out of my mouth, I silently blame Marcia for rubbing off on me. I only joke around like that with Ashton. I wouldn’t be surprised if they throw me out of the Culling immediately. That is definitely not what we just learned about “meet and greets” in etiquette class. I should have just said hello, for crap’s sake. But when I’m tired, I get weird. And obviously inappropriate.
Elle stifles a giggle but is having a hard time being serious, and the tester man with the gray eyes, who is normally emotionless, smiles a half-smile.
“Shall we begin, Ms. Scott?” he asks and just like that is back to being all business.
“Yes, sir. We shall,” I say, sitting up straight against my pillow and using a hand gesture in the attempt to get professional while trying my hardest not to yawn. I’m sure they’re trying to see how we answer things tired. I’m obviously a bad tired person, so this may be interesting.
“Is your name Reagan Scott?” he begins just like the last time.
“Yes.”
“Are you from Omaha?”
“Yes.”
“What is your job there?”
“Nutritional supply specializing in irrigational engineering,” I respond exactly like last time, trying not to yawn in the middle of it.
“How old are you?”
18.”
“Does that worry you?”
“Yes.” I smile, still answering the same as before.
“Of the Culling Candidates, which person do you think is most suited to be Madam President?”
“Elizabeth,” I say without hesitating, fighting another yawn.
“Why?” he asks.
“Isn’t it obvious? She’s beautiful, always poised, and unlike myself, knows how and when to keep her mouth shut.” I smile shyly trying to make up for embarrassing myself earlier.
“Is there anyone who you think is unsuited to be Madam President?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Marisol, Trinity, and Bethany,” I offer. I could probably give more, but those are the three that stand out the most.
“Please explain your reasoning for each.”
“Marisol is too cruel hearted to be a leader. I venture to say she would do anything to become Madam President. She just wants it too much and doesn’t care how many people she will hurt or truck over to get there. Trinity thinks highly of herself and looks down on others. Entitled and egotistical leaders become disastrous leaders as we have all learned if we look to the past, and both of those girls would fall into that category. Bethany is a total sweetheart but is the complete opposite of Marisol. She was uncontrollably sobbing in class during the Trident slideshow. She is too empathetic and too emotional, too tender hearted. She is a wonderful person, but wouldn’t do well with the responsibilities the presidency entails. She wouldn’t ever be able to say no to anything.” I am quite proud of myself for thinking of that entire spiel spur of the moment as well as tired.
“Have you looked at the boys’ information?” he asks, trying to hold back another smile but I see it there hiding in the corners of his mouth.
Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. But for real, he should color his hair or something. The hair matching the eyes is just plain weird.
“Yes,” I nod and can’t help but grin.
“Were you attracted to any of them?”
“Yes.” I’m sure I’m probably blushing now.
“Would you like to tell me who stands out?”
“No.”
This surprises him as I see his eyebrows slightly raise. I’m finding that he does show emotion, it’s just so quick you have to really pay attention to pick up on it. He must not be trying to intimidate us as much now either because I can pick up on it, even in my tired state.
“Why not?” he inquires.
“I personally know for a fact that some individuals in that packet look great on paper, are physically attractive, but are actually kind of crappy people. I
don’t want to judge someone by a picture, as I hope they wouldn’t judge me. We all look good on paper and in a picture. What really matters is who you really are as a person, what makes you tick, and how you treat others. And if you were wondering, on looks alone, I would date about half of them.” I shrug as I finish.
He quickly looks at Elle then looks back down at his clipboard. “What has been your favorite part of this experience thus far?”
“The friends I’ve made, the food, and my fluffy bed here.” I pat the bed beside me.
“We will now be going over some questions you answered on your written exams as we want you to elaborate on why you answered the way you did.”
He continues and asks me questions like, “Why did you pick integrity over honesty as the characteristic most needed in a leader?” There are probably fifteen questions I give short but definite answers to. I hope I’m answering them how I’m supposed to be, but really I’m just trying my hardest not to yawn. I feel like yawning during a verbal will dock me points or something.
“In regards to the question about government, you were asked if you think our government is doing a bad, fair, good, or exemplary job, and you said fair. Why?”
“Well, in defense of our government, I don’t know much insider information. What I do know though is sometimes we are shooting ourselves in the foot. We are too afraid to change much of anything that was set in place following Trident. I know for a fact there are projects out there that can make our lives easier that just need some collaboration from other townships. Overall, I think we are doing okay, but I don’t think it’s our best effort. Anything less than our best effort after Trident seems wasteful. We owe it to all those people who died to make our country flourish again, not just survive, but flourish,” I explain soberly, thinking of that little girl in the picture who died.
I must have answered one question correctly because Elle gives me a nod of approval and takes a sip of tea while the tester man scribbles. The feeling doesn’t last long though.
“Do you have any concerns about the Culling thus far?”
I’m sure most girls are going to answer “making it further” or “doing my best” or something of the sort. I decide to wade into the deep waters and see what happens. I can’t shake the feeling that we are being constantly watched. I have discreetly searched my entire room and haven’t found a thing. No cameras. Nada. I will go crazy if I don’t figure it out. And it’s just creeping me out. Someone is watching me. I just know it.
I simply answer, “Yes.”
“What are those concerns?”
I let out a sigh and put my hair, which I am sure is a total mess, behind my ears before beginning. “I’m going to just be honest here…I can’t shake the feeling that I am being constantly watched. I understand as part of the Culling we need to be monitored. Given how some girls act, I even understand wanting to monitor us unknowingly. I just can’t help but feel that since I’ve been here, there hasn’t been one instance that I haven’t been watched in some way or another.”
“This is a concern?”
“Yes. My concern is my basic right to privacy. We all know I never sleep naked, you knew I didn’t when you walked in here, which is why you didn’t hesitate to come in. If I did though, is some creep watching me sleep in some control room? See what I’m saying? It’s just a bit unnerving.” I stop and look at both of them in the eyes. “Can you just tell me I’m right? Or that my concerns are only that of a young paranoid girl?”
Elle looks at the tester and the tester looks at her. “Some of you are discovering that yes, you are being monitored,” she admits.
“How often?” I don’t hesitate to ask my next question and the other two look uncomfortable with me being the asker of questions now. This obviously isn’t part of the script that they usually use which means that I’m probably way out of line. They look at one another and back to me.
“Please, sir. How often?” I plead with the gray-eyed tester man.
“Completely off the record, and believe me when I say we will know when and who you tell if you do, you will not get any of your coveted privacy back until you either go home or become Madam President.”
“Okay then,” I say nonchalantly.
“Okay then?” the tester asks.
“I’m fine with that. I mean I have to be, but I do understand why you would want to do so. I just needed to know so I could quit looking over my shoulder. It was majorly creeping me out. I’m even glad in some instances that you are watching to see how cruel some people can be when they aren’t kissing up to certain people. And on the plus side, now I know I need to wear pajamas tomorrow night,” I smile, trying to help ease up the tension that had been in the room when I was getting mouthy.
This time Elle doesn’t even try to contain her smile.
“Any other concerns before we leave?” the tester asks.
“Only that I’m concerned about my performance if you keep waking me up in the dead of the night. I’m an imbecile tired and obviously don’t know when I have crossed certain lines,” I shrug trying to stifle a yawn again as I take a deep breath.
“No harm done and no need to get up. We will see ourselves out. Goodnight, Ms. Scott.” Elle picks up her tea and walks to the door with the tester man.
“Goodnight,” I respond, sinking back into my pillows in relief as they shut off the hall light and the door closes.
Now I know someone is watching me at all times. I look around and salute to whoever is watching and shut off the lamp. They really shouldn’t wake me from sleep. I am much too impetuous. I even think in big words I don’t know the meaning of.
****
“Mine was at four in the morning,” Vanessa spits out upset. “I mean, come on. How rational will I be at four in the morning?”
“I’m sure I looked like a total crazy woman!” Attie chimes in.
“Don’t you always?” Marcia laughs before adding, “Just kiddin’, hun.”
“When do you think we will find out about the rest of the cuts?” I ask, feeling a bit nervous about my behavior the night before with my verbal.
In the light of day, I would’ve never been that blatant or brave with my comments or my questions. As we are all sitting at lunch, we notice that Bethany, the girl that sobbed uncontrollably at the video, and a Denver girl are missing. At this point, it’s probably safe to assume they went home although there has been no announcement or anything.
“I don’t know, but I just wish they would tell us already,” Attie pouts.
“Like they will send you home, you’re the sweetheart.” Marcia rolls her eyes.
“What?” Attie asks confused.
“You’re the sweetheart. The closest thing I have heard you say bad about anyone was when you stubbed your toe on your desk leaving class yesterday and said ‘gee willikers that hurts’.”
This makes us all laugh hysterically as not all of us heard it. Cadence seems particularly quiet this morning. Vanessa must pick up on it too.
“Hey Cadence. You alright?” she asks while the others are busy eating and discussing the boys again.
“Yeah. I mean yes. I’m just ready to know if I stay or go home. I would really be okay with either. I’m starting to think I would be more okay with going home than with staying,” she says with a sad shrug. I wonder if she misses her family or just isn’t dealing well with the way in which this whole thing is set up. I do know she really enjoys her specialty in chemical engineering.
“Well, we would miss you,” I say with a smile while trying not to sound too cheesy but cheer her up all the same. She might not be the most social girl, but she still gives valuable input to our little group.
“Yeah. We need a Detroit girl in this group and October down there,” Marcia says nodding to where October always sits and reads, “won’t ever get her nose out of that book.”
She smiles with a sad expression on her face. “Thanks, guys, I just sometimes miss home I guess.”
I think of my own hom
e and family. I miss my dad and his consistency. I wouldn’t ever go to him with a problem, but his presence is always known; he is always there. I miss my mom as she is always taking care of us all and making it look so easy. And probably most of all, I miss my brother Ashton. He is who I would go to with a problem. I can’t help but wonder what he meant when he told me not to trust anyone. I miss them more than they know, but I just don’t want to go home yet. The worst part is that I feel that way not necessarily out of duty for my country, but for me.
Now that I’m here, I want to see what I’m capable of.
****
Friday leaves as swiftly as it arrives and Saturday drags on but marks a whole week away from home. The most interesting thing we learn all day is that the first Culling was initially just men. There were so many babies out of wedlock post-Trident that in order for the President to promote traditional families, which they determined was the best way to grow a population, he decided to do another Culling later on of women and incorporate it into the guidelines for future Cullings. This worked well since he needed a wife anyway. The first Culling for the madam presidency took place a few years into the first post-Trident presidency.
Other than the interesting Culling class, the day absolutely drags on. Most of us are apprehensive about the cut. Two are gone? How many more will go and when? None of us really want to go. It has only been a week.
I manage to halfway pay attention in etiquette class and make it to dinner. I sit with my new friends and chat with them, but all of us seem to be a bit quieter than usual. Well, with the exception of Marcia, of course.
Saturday finally comes to a close and we don’t get any announcements about the cuts. Instead, we do get an announcement that there will be a physical fitness test the next morning. No list. No one leaves. No one mentions the cut. Nothing. We have all been on edge the last few days, and still, there is nothing.
The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) Page 9