The Elements

Chapter 1 ❄

The clock ticks against the wall. Her eyes dart to it for what feels like the millionth time that today. Her bright blue eyes fall back to the Registration test on her desk.

Her pale hand reaches to her head. Grabbing a chunch of her shoulder length blond hair. She tugs up in frustration.

One of the blue dyed tips of her hair covering her eye.

The officer at the front of the room gives her a suspicious look.

"Miss," he picks up the clipboard and finds the spot where her name sits. "Hensley Jones. Is there a problem?"

She drops the hair and looks up at him. Eyes wide and scared.

"No, sir, there's not." She shakes her head frantically.

He smiles at her, about to say something when a voice interrupts him. "Please. There is a problem. And I think we all know what it is. It's you."

The officer's smile dies. He turns his head expectantly to the smiling girl who said the words. "Violet Williams," his voice is filled with hatred.

As would be expected he doesn't need to look at the seating chart to know the brunette's name. Violet Williams, the only person in the entire Direction with the courage to speak her mind.

Well, courage, and her big mouth. Let's not forget the fact that she doesn't give a damn about anything.

Her turquoise blue eyes sparkle at the sight of the officer's frustration.

His attention goes back to Hensley. "Is that true?"

"No, sir, I'm just feeling slightly uneasy."

Violet opens her mouth to say something. But, decides against it.

Hensley looks back at her test. Deciding that the conversation must be over. The Registration test, is for those who get into too much trouble, cannot get a job, or their families needs money.

For the war. In each Direction, as soon as your children turn fifteen they're expected to take care of the family, until the parents die or another child take the responsibility. Or as soon as they get married or have children.

But at fifteen, the eldest child takes most responsibility to the family. Including feeding the family, paying bills, clothing and sheltering them. Including keeping the families reputation. They must take all the factors of taking care of the family, while the parents go to work for the king.

In the South and West, most of their working involves machinery or weapon work. There's of course a few exceptions to people with certain talents for those under age.

Between the South and the West there's a horrible war. Which is where the Registration Test comes in.

The test is to see eligibility to what standards you fit for the war, if you fit none of them, you're condemned and bring a horrible name to your family.

Hensley didn't want this to be her life. She wanted to be a teacher. Of young children. She wanted to teach them English. Where they'd learn to reach and write stories.

Calling her Miss Ivy, or Miss Jones. Either her first or last name. But, sitting here in this time and moment at a desk surrounded by other teenagers. Sixteen like her or fifteen.

With a white piece of paper as white as the fresh fallen snow that came too early with edgy black words. Typed in perfect lines. A wooden, yellow pencil shaking in her right hand. Hensley never wanted to be here.

Her family lost all their money, because of her father's illegal betting habit.

Here in this moment she sees all her dreams shatter. Like a thin rectangle of glass. With a fist going through it. Making her childhood dreams shatter like the fallen crystal glass. And the fist, the fist, is everything she's ever known. Her family, her Direction, everything.

She looks out the window with the early snow. Fresh fallen. Its white gleam leaving a perfect blanket over the land she's always dreaded.

And she cannot help it when the very envious feeling finds its way creeping up her spine. It's so free out there and so enclosed in here. Not just the room, but her life.

Everything.

And suddenly she asks herself a question. A question that comes quickly and from within her. A question she's been asking herself for years, but has never been able to give an answer to.

Do you really want this.

Her answer comes more quick than expected. No.

And with that she grabs the white piece of paper and tears it in half. She looks up just as the last inch separates. To find people gapping at her including the officer. And one specific dark haired girl smirking at her.

And that's when the sirens start.