Solstice (17 page)

I wished time could slow and all the people on the tram disappear so that it could only be me and Sol again. We’d talk like we used to. He’d tell me stories about his caretaker’s grandfather, and I would tell him my worries about testing into the University. But that was all gone now, and time only seemed to speed faster with the moving tram.

I had toured the women’s portion of the University the year before with the fifteen-year-old class. Chalice had been with me, and we’d eagerly speculated which profession we’d be selected to study. For a moment, I wished I was that innocent and unassuming girl again, with the wide-eyed view of what the future might bring.

Now, my path was tailored and completely controlled. I had no allies, only more secrets.

I glanced over at Sol, grateful that they let us at least travel together to the University. Would he miss me, too? Once there, we’d hardly see each other. The Separation had taken place at school without me, after which the sixteen-year-old class moved on to various vocations or to University level for more training.

“Is Chalice already there?” I asked Sol, wanting to say something, anything.

His gray eyes leveled with mine. “Yes, I saw her at opening assembly.”

I felt relief. She must have stopped wearing her rings to class then.

The tram slowed and more people climbed off as more boarded.

When the tram started up again, I asked, “Did you get your first request?”

Sol’s eyes stayed on the window. “I did.”

“So, you’ll be a neuroscientist after all?” I asked, wondering why he was ignoring me.
Look at me!
Maybe he was thinking of having to say goodbye. Maybe that meant he’d miss me after all. I pushed those thoughts away.

Realizing I’d be taking many of the same courses as him, I said, “I’ll be training in neurology as well.”

That got his attention. Sol looked at me, his eyebrows lifted. “I thought you wanted to specialize in geology.”

“I did.” How could I explain without giving anything away? “Maybe after a few classes, I’ll change my mind.”

He seemed to believe me, and I tried to forget the speeding tram, hurtling through our last minutes together as if they were of no consequence.

“I’m glad we’ll be at University together,” he said, his tone calm, as usual.

“Me too.” For a moment, I wanted him to break. To really look at me and tell me that he’d miss seeing me every day. That he’d miss our talks in the school yard.

But he was calm as ever, observing everything, saying nothing.

The tram stopped and nearly everyone got off. The next stop would be the University. My heart rate sped up in time with the tram. As if in response, Sol said, “Are you ready?”

I blew out a breath. So he was noticing me. “Yes.”

He gazed at me, but I couldn’t quite read his expression. “Why did you really choose neurology as your specialty?” he asked.

My heart thumped. Had he seen through my lie or was he just curious? “It was being in that prison,” I said, thinking quickly. “There were some experiences there . . . things I thought I could help with. Make a difference.”

He just looked at me. Then he said in a low voice, “That’s what I admire about you, Jez.”

“What?” My breathing felt shallow.

“That drive that comes from deep within you,” he said. “Not everyone has that. Not everyone cares.”

You don’t know the half of it
.
You don’t know how much I care.
I stared at him for a second until he looked out the window again. I’d seen enough of the dull-faced people getting on and off the tram today to know that many people didn’t care. Or maybe it was that they had no hope. No hope of hoping. People were assigned their lot in life almost from birth—they went through the motions, then life was over.

What’s wrong with me? I’m thinking like my grandmother.
“I guess there must be something wrong with me.”

Sol exhaled, keeping his gaze forward. “How am I going to get through the University without seeing you every day?”

Heat rose in my neck. He still wasn’t looking at me, but something like sorrow was etched across his features, making the heat spread to my face.
Don’t say anything else Sol—it will only make it worse.

I wasn’t sure how to respond without giving anything away. Finally, I said, “I guess you’ll just have to become a brilliant scientist to make up for my absence.”

He just stared out the window. I moved my hand so that it brushed against his. “Sol?”

His gaze flickered to me, and he pulled away, his face paling.

I felt the distance like a cold night.

“Jez, we have to be more careful now.” His gaze remained averted as if he were afraid to look at me. “Taking this tram together is an exception—”

“I know,” I whispered, and I did. The Separation had taken place; we were no longer considered kids. The rules of association between male and female were stricter now. I looked down at my hands and folded them determinedly in my lap.

Sol bumped my shoulder with his, the movement imperceptible to the others on the tram. “I hate the Separation.”

“Me too,” I said. “But it’s for the best.” It was the only way for me, at least, to be better than my grandmother.

We settled back into silence.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much I already missed him. Even as I sat right next to Sol, it was like he was already gone from me. We wouldn’t be able to whisper together or speculate about the Before. We were going to the University and would be expected to follow all guidelines of the Separation, which included girls living and studying separate from the boys.

Sol leaned back on the bench, his expression nonchalant. I tried to do the same.

The tram slowed in front of the University stop. It was all happening too fast.

“Remember,” Sol said, “Don’t do anything to get into trouble.”

“And why would I do that?”

He looked at me, his dark gray eyes steady. Eyes that I had seen in my dreams in prison. How could I say goodbye?

“Jez . . .” he began.

“All right. I won’t break any rules.” It came out as a stilted whisper.

The doors opened, and Sol and I stood. Through the doors I saw the two separate entrances to the University. One for men and one for women. Groups of students in clusters of umbrellas stood on the platform waiting to board. Sol and I slipped off the tram just as the students moved forward to climb on. We were separated in the crowd for a few seconds, then he found me and pressed something into my hand. “See you sometime.” And then he was gone, walking toward the men’s entrance.

I clenched my hand around the small object as the crowd shuffled past. I crossed the street and stepped up to the guard post, then raised my hand to the scanner under the guard’s watchful eye, and he waved me through. I continued toward the building on a broad sidewalk lined with trees and dripping bushes. Other girls hurried past me, carrying umbrellas in the driving rain. I didn’t open my umbrella, letting the rain drops pelt my face and hair, relishing the feeling after the time spent underground.

I looked toward the men’s side and caught a few glimpses through the iron fence of others walking. Without an umbrella, my hair quickly became soaked, but I continued my slow walk. The University building up ahead was pale yellow and two stories, although in the rain it looked almost gray, meshing with the sky so that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

When I was quite alone on the sidewalk, I opened my hand. Inside my palm was a small stone. The color was unusual, a light pink with darker lines running through it. I lifted my hand so that I could inspect it as the rain pattered against my palm. Why would Sol give me a rock?

Then I noticed the carvings.

It looked like a cluster of leaves encircling each other.

Sol had given me a rose.

My dorm room was at the end of a long corridor. From what I’d seen in passing, the other rooms contained two girls each, but I had a room to myself, a narrow space with a bunk bed of sorts. Bed on top, desk on the bottom.

Registration had been automatic. One swipe of the hand at the registration console had confirmed my presence, and I was handed an electronic tablet. My heart fluttered as I held it. I’d be able to check the news reports now and find out if Rueben had been charged or punished for a crime. I could also try using the sequence code to send him a message, but I knew I wouldn’t dare.

I sat down at my new desk and turned on the tablet. Hesitating, I finally opened the news report. I looked back over the records, skimming through the names of those who were born, Taken, or charged with crimes. My hand froze when I saw Rueben’s name.
Rueben Paulo: Criminal—Security One.

I exhaled. He wasn’t listed as
Charged
or
Taken
, so that was a relief. But
Security One
meant his punishment would be severe if he was caught. It also meant that I couldn’t send him a message. Even if the message itself was encrypted like Rueben had explained, I worried that the Legislature could detect where the message had come from.

I opened the file called “Schedule” and saw that there was an assembly in less than an hour. It was as if I’d gone from one classroom to another, without so much as a hiccup.

I wondered why I’d been given a room to myself, but deep down I knew exactly why. They wanted to isolate me. I blew out a breath and looked around the stark dorm. I had brought nothing but an umbrella with me.

All I had left was a scar on my shoulder to remember Rueben by. The only tangible thing I owned besides the clothes I wore was the rose-shaped stone. It seemed so long ago that Sol and I had stood in the courtyard, talking about flowers and seasons. I slipped the rock under the pillow on the bed.

Sol’s words on the tram came back to me:
The drive that comes from deep within you. Not everyone has that. Not everyone cares.

“No, not everyone,” I whispered to myself. “But my grandmother did.”

I dropped my head in my hands, thinking of my grandmother. When I first read her book, I had been so afraid. I had been angry, too. How could she be so foolish and break such serious rules? What was the point of that? In death, she was nothing. She had had to pass on the Carrier key to her daughter, who passed it to me. Neither of them had been able to succeed in their mission.

What if I couldn’t, either? Would I be able to pass on the Carrier key? I didn’t have a daughter. Or would each month draw the city closer to final extinction?

A chime sounded on my tablet; orientation was about to begin. I lifted my head and slowly stood, reluctant to integrate into a new education program and start whatever testing the Legislature still had in store for me.

The hallway buzzed with conversation. I searched among the faces for anyone I might know, but came up empty. Roommates seemed to already be friends, and I was alone in the crowd as we walked in a group to the auditorium.

I found an empty row near the back of the circular room. I was the only one sitting in it until right before the lights dimmed. A girl slipped in next to me. I glanced over. “Chalice?” I whispered.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t turn her head.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” I said, keeping my voice low.

Still, she didn’t answer, except for a slight nod.

What was wrong with her? Her hair looked shorter than usual and her body thinner than I remembered. Her skin was paler, too.

A voice belonging to the president of the University carried over the auditorium, putting an end to my questions. “Welcome to the University. Before you divide into groups according to your assigned specialty, we have a few announcements to make. Please turn on your tablets.”

I looked around the auditorium. There were instructors stationed throughout the room, their watchful eyes on the students. All of the students I could see were diligently staring at their screens. Boys sat separately from girls, as if there were some invisible line dividing us. I didn’t see Sol anywhere. I turned my tablet on and peeked over at Chalice. She sat rigid in her chair, her hands lightly holding the tablet, the screen dark.

I sat through the monotonous announcements while sneaking glances at Chalice. She didn’t move, didn’t look at me, and didn’t turn on her tablet.

When the president finished speaking, I followed Chalice out into the foyer.

“Are you all right?” I asked. No response. Was she being monitored and not allowed to talk to anyone? I continued to walk with her until we arrived at her classroom.

I wasn’t too surprised to find out that she’d chosen Mathematics as her specialty. I stopped at the door—my ID wouldn’t register for the Mathematics orientation. From the doorway, I watched Chalice take a seat, without a backward glance at me.

Late for my own orientation, I hurried to the classroom. I was the last in my seat and the instructor—a thin, gray-haired man in his forties—gave me a brief stare-down. Thankfully, he didn’t call any further attention to my tardiness.

I took copious notes, typing in almost word for word what the instructor said in order to maintain my focus. Then I made it a point to be the first one out the door after the orientation.

Chalice was just emerging from her classroom when I turned down the hallway to meet her. I hurried to catch up with her. Maybe she’d speak to me now. “Chalice?”

Her gaze traveled slowly to look at me, her eyes resting just below my own. But there was no spark—nothing from our former friendship. Did this have something to do with me? Or with the rings she’d made?

“Tell me what happened,” I said, but she didn’t respond.

She didn’t prevent me from following her down to her dorm room on the ground-level floor, one below my own. Stepping into her room, I stopped just inside the door as it slid closed behind me. There were two beds and two desks. She obviously had a roommate.

I waited for a moment, wondering if she’d finally speak to me, or look me in the eye. But she simply sat at her desk and placed her tablet in front of her. She didn’t turn it on.

“Chalice,” I said as I sat on the bed across from her. “Did they forbid you to talk to me? Just nod if the answer is yes. I don’t want to get you into more trouble.”