As Jaden Smith once said, Just Stare In The Mirror And Cry And You'll Be Good. It's the only piece of advice I've ever taken repeatedly. As the faucet tap pours into my cupped hands, a similar stream tumbles from my eyes. This can only mean one thing: my period is on its way.
Life sucks. Eh. It's okay as far as life in 2002 goes. Duties and safety, you know how it goes. But it's awful. I'm surrounded by death and departure. Faces disappearing from the Dining Hall, from the corridors and now, from Theatre Five. Since May, we've been dropping like flies. Mostly the reserves and techies and a few medics.
My sixteenth birthday had landed on a manic Monday. I'd spent Sunday night at the geriatric ward, coincidentally the night we'd lost three residents. After wheeling another body to the morgue, I watched the hour hand roll over the new day, wishing myself an ironic happy birthday. When I returned to the dorm, my three roommates were asleep, and by the time I woke up, they were long gone. I hadn't felt upset or sad, I didn't want the attention, no. Eventually, they'd toss me two arbitrary words, and if they didn't, so what? I'm an empty vase, hollow, misused and ornamental but to the fault of no one but myself. Sixteen years old, still believing that birthdays are magical and that wishes do come true.
Shockingly, Campbell was the first person I saw on Monday. I tried not to let my hopes climb too high since there is only one reason why he'd be at my dorm.I slipped my hand into my satchel, my fingers brushing against the metal spiral of my notebook.
As expected, Campbell wanted to speak to me in his office. He had offered the more lavish of the two seats, lowering himself behind his desk with his signature look of motherly concern. "You aren't in trouble, Addi," he had told me and I got a strong sense of deja vu. "Happy birthday, by the way."
It had fallen even more silent than before. "Thanks," I whisper back uncertainly.
"Sweet sixteen. How's that going for you?"
I shrugged. "Just woke up."
"Night shift?"
I nodded slowly, trying to minimise my movements.
"I see." He double clicked his mouse and I saw a window open in the reflection on his glasses. "Says here that you're working in the geriatric ward. Nurse, eh?"
I swallowed before nodding again.
Campbell turned from his monitor, addressing me with an attempt at a reassuring smile. "You know, I was a little surprised when you didn't choose to test for doctor's training corps."
"What do you mean, 'surprised'?" Involuntarily, my eyes had narrowed at him. "You expected me to try?"
"I know a lot, Addi. I'm your coordinator. It's my job to keep an eye on you."
My mind was screaming at me to get out of there.
GET OUT OF THERE!
Oh, right. It was just Siri.
Folding his hands neatly, Campbell had asked, "Why didn't you?"
"Why didn't I what?"
"Test for the DTC."
My lips had pressed into a thin line. "Didn't think I'd make it," I mutter, counting the chips in the dark polished wood.
"So you didn't even bother to try. Is that right?"
A lump swelled into fruition in my throat, burning a hole into my voicebox. If Campbell had known so much about me, he should have be able to answer that question. He should already have know that I didn't try, because it was easier to excuse a lack of effort than a lack of talent. It was easier to give up on your dreams when they were tiny seedlings than to axe them down when they'd grown sinewy and strong. It was easier to move on if you didn't care in the first place.
With the clacking of a keyboard, I returned to the present. Campbell isn't looking at me with a gaze laced with pity, which makes me feel a little better. "Nurses won't be able to leave until November."
"Leave?" I croaked.
"Leave 2002 for the field. Practices abroad, to join DWB or the Red Cross. That is, if you'd like to be stationed abroad."
"No," I had answered instantly. "I won't be leaving 2002."
"You've already decided?"
"Yeah. My roommates and I made an agreement to stick together at 2002."
"The decision was unanimous?"
A beat passed. "Yeah," I had exhaled uneasily.
To be honest, it was far from unanimous. Ebony and Tom saw no problem with staying at 2002. It offered the basics for survival—food, shelter, safety—for the price of working under the institution. Johnny wanted more. It wasn't enough for him to sit idly in the reserves. Virtually the moment he arrived, he was looking for an out, and the quickest, easiest way out was enlisting.
So the pact remained between the three of us: we would stick together at 2002 for as long as the war would carry on. But after we all shook on it, I felt like I'd made a dreadful mistake.
Campbell was doing his best to plaster a smile on his face again. But under all that construction, I can see the disappointment shining through his eyes like headlights. "Tell you what," he sighed. "We can continue this conversation in November. See if your mind changes then, eh?"
"It probably won't," I had replied with a tight-lipped smile.
Well, it's the end of August and my mind has definitely changed. I want out.
