Chosen Ones by Tiffany Truitt

had allowed him to see?
    “I… Would it work if I said I didn’t know? Would you settle for me saying that it’s just something I want? Even if I know it is wrong to ask for it.”
    “Yes,” I breathed.
    He hesitated before continuing. “I won’t… If you’re worried about… I swear it wouldn’t be like that.”
    I looked away, no doubt blushing. I hadn’t exactly thought something of that nature was a possibility. In fact, if I were honest, it was part of what attracted me to him. I knew I could never do anything of that sort with someone like him. And he wouldn’t want to with me. Or would he?
    I did find him attractive.
    No. I sought friendship, nothing more. It wasn’t safe to become close to someone back at the compound—friendship there would be too oppressive. I couldn’t hide from it. I would only be spending nine months at Templeton. If this fell apart, I never had to see this boy again. But I would be stuck at the compound for the rest of my life.
    Besides, there was nothing natural about a relationship between one of my kind and one of his. The thought of it was wrong, and yet…
    “You are right. Perhaps we can be…friends.”
    A note of mischief flitted in his eyes. In a quick series of movements he had opened a trunk and returned holding out two dark, tattered, worn books. I instinctively sat up straight and held out my hand. In it he placed one, Jane Eyre.
    “Have you read it before?”
    “No,” I said hoarsely. I wanted to cry at the sheer beauty of it.
    His face became even brighter. “How splendid.”
    Our bodies were nowhere near touching, but the sense of him so close both attracted and amused me. He cleared his throat. “What about this one?” he asked, holding up a novel called Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I shook my head. “Your namesake,” he replied, setting the book on his desk. “We’ll save this one for another time. Don’t think we’re quite ready for it yet.” A slight redness colored his cheeks.
    I gently opened Jane Eyre and started reading the first page out loud.

Chapter 12
    I was fourteen when I lost my best friend. This was when Henry left me. Growing up in the compound would have been beyond boring had it not been for him. Our friendship probably seemed strange to those around us—we hardly talked. We didn’t need to.
    A lot of the time, especially when we first became friends, we spent just with each other. I didn’t have the words to talk about losing my parents or the music and books that I loved. Neither of us knew how to talk of the things we had seen. Neither of us would ever force the other to talk about it, either.
    As we got older, we became little smart asses, experts at mocking everyone and everything around us. We had secret nicknames for people. And nothing could touch us.
    But change is inevitable.
    Fourteen was an awkward age for me. I had grown in places Emma never had, and her hand-me-downs never fit right. I once even stole some tape from the supply closet and tried to flatten my growing chest. If Henry noticed, he never said anything. I was becoming the monster the council constantly warned us of.
    Eventually, Emma secured me clothes that fit. She traded laundry duty with Sallie Jo for three months for them. I was beyond thankful. I still felt weird in my new body, but at least I could cover it up.
    I wasn’t ready to become a woman.
    One morning, as I sat with Henry at breakfast, I caught Joseph Nickerson staring at me. It was the first time I’d seen anyone look at me in such a way, but I recognized the suggestive gaze from the videos. I tugged self-consciously at my blouse, making sure I was covered. Henry’s brow wrinkled as he sought out the cause of my discomfort. When he saw Joseph continuing to stare at me, the fork dropped from his hands. Then Henry was staring at me.
    His look was unfamiliar. Without a word, he got up from the table. When I tried to visit him later that afternoon, I was told he was ill. Three days passed