of kids inside. Before taking the same seat I shared with Bree the previous day, I catch Harrison watching me. His expression bears the strangest resemblance to concern. Just as warm feelings begin to creep through me, his eyes snap over to the window.
* * *
In the days that follow, I keep to myself and stay quiet as is expected of a Shymer. Each day is spent exactly as the last—waking to shower and eat breakfast, going for a day of lessons, returning back to the orphanage, doing chores, and eating a bland dinner before going to sleep on the little cot in the room filled with the other Shymers.
There is one day, however, when we don’t attend lessons and instead spend the entire day working at our selected job. I scrub the hallway floors with two other girls who won’t speak to me. By the end of the day, I am so stiff and sore that I fall asleep the instant my head hits my pillow.
No one in the orphanage will open up when I try to start a conversation, so eventually I quit trying. Harrison even keeps his distance from me, although he has little choice in the matter. I refuse to even look his way.
Lessons are torturous as they drag by as I have already written this lifestyle off. I feel sorry for everyone—both Shymers and Futures alike. I can’t imagine having spent my entire childhood locked up in a school. I was given the afternoons to explore the forest and play. My parents taught me much more valuable things in life in much shorter lessons.
A few times when crossing the hallways of the orphanage, I run into Director Mahr. His angry stare is unfaltering, making me terrified of what he may do or say. Before long, I am glancing down hallways before entering them, passing through quickly to avoid the unwanted contact.
I spend all my free time between lessons and during the tasteless lunches with Bree. Despite Kai’s unhealthy and foolish habit, I really grow to like her a lot too. She is one of the few Shymers who doesn’t seem to be completely hopeless, even though she is also in an orphanage and will be dead before long. I can always count on her for laughter and jokes. Her off-beat humor is better than the dull looks and somber moods that I am learning to be a trademark of the Shymers.
One day at lunch, Bree and I approach the group and Kai calls out, “Hey, Free Timer.” Although her smile is big, her eyes look more drooped with every day that passes and her cough is becoming progressively worse.
“Don’t call her that,” Harrison snaps.
My mouth drops. I turn to find him looking down at his plate, picking at his lunch with a fork.
“Why not?” Kai challenges. She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “What d o yo u care what I call her?”
Wha t doe s he care? Hasn’t he made it clear by now that he doesn’t like me for whatever reason? He chews for a minute before looking up and realizing everyone is staring at him, waiting for him to answer Kai. His face turns a dark shade of red. “ I don’t . ”
The other Shymers—except for Bree and Kai—break back into their separate conversations. I sit down in the grass between my new friends and set my tray in front of me.
“H e reall y doesn’t like you,” Kai whispers to me. As always, her laugh turns into a wicked cough. By now I should be used to that horrible noise and the way her face turns red, as if she is actually choking on something. Yet I can’t stop worrying about her.
“Of course he does,” Bree whispers, her eyes hard on Kai. “He just doesn’t know how to deal with jus t how muc h he likes her.”
Kai ignores Bree, grinning at me. “It’s too bad the two of you aren’t Rebels. Maybe then you could have some kind of actua l relationshi p .”
My stomach flutters excitedly at the thought. My parents told me many stories of the Rebels and their fight against the rules of Society. I hadn’t realized before just how extreme the rules of Societ y wer e . I always got the feeling that if it
* * *
In the days that follow, I keep to myself and stay quiet as is expected of a Shymer. Each day is spent exactly as the last—waking to shower and eat breakfast, going for a day of lessons, returning back to the orphanage, doing chores, and eating a bland dinner before going to sleep on the little cot in the room filled with the other Shymers.
There is one day, however, when we don’t attend lessons and instead spend the entire day working at our selected job. I scrub the hallway floors with two other girls who won’t speak to me. By the end of the day, I am so stiff and sore that I fall asleep the instant my head hits my pillow.
No one in the orphanage will open up when I try to start a conversation, so eventually I quit trying. Harrison even keeps his distance from me, although he has little choice in the matter. I refuse to even look his way.
Lessons are torturous as they drag by as I have already written this lifestyle off. I feel sorry for everyone—both Shymers and Futures alike. I can’t imagine having spent my entire childhood locked up in a school. I was given the afternoons to explore the forest and play. My parents taught me much more valuable things in life in much shorter lessons.
A few times when crossing the hallways of the orphanage, I run into Director Mahr. His angry stare is unfaltering, making me terrified of what he may do or say. Before long, I am glancing down hallways before entering them, passing through quickly to avoid the unwanted contact.
I spend all my free time between lessons and during the tasteless lunches with Bree. Despite Kai’s unhealthy and foolish habit, I really grow to like her a lot too. She is one of the few Shymers who doesn’t seem to be completely hopeless, even though she is also in an orphanage and will be dead before long. I can always count on her for laughter and jokes. Her off-beat humor is better than the dull looks and somber moods that I am learning to be a trademark of the Shymers.
One day at lunch, Bree and I approach the group and Kai calls out, “Hey, Free Timer.” Although her smile is big, her eyes look more drooped with every day that passes and her cough is becoming progressively worse.
“Don’t call her that,” Harrison snaps.
My mouth drops. I turn to find him looking down at his plate, picking at his lunch with a fork.
“Why not?” Kai challenges. She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “What d o yo u care what I call her?”
Wha t doe s he care? Hasn’t he made it clear by now that he doesn’t like me for whatever reason? He chews for a minute before looking up and realizing everyone is staring at him, waiting for him to answer Kai. His face turns a dark shade of red. “ I don’t . ”
The other Shymers—except for Bree and Kai—break back into their separate conversations. I sit down in the grass between my new friends and set my tray in front of me.
“H e reall y doesn’t like you,” Kai whispers to me. As always, her laugh turns into a wicked cough. By now I should be used to that horrible noise and the way her face turns red, as if she is actually choking on something. Yet I can’t stop worrying about her.
“Of course he does,” Bree whispers, her eyes hard on Kai. “He just doesn’t know how to deal with jus t how muc h he likes her.”
Kai ignores Bree, grinning at me. “It’s too bad the two of you aren’t Rebels. Maybe then you could have some kind of actua l relationshi p .”
My stomach flutters excitedly at the thought. My parents told me many stories of the Rebels and their fight against the rules of Society. I hadn’t realized before just how extreme the rules of Societ y wer e . I always got the feeling that if it
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