Exceptional (On Hold)

Chapter Five

        Lydia stared at me in bewilderment and disbelief, reflecting everything that I felt and probably revealed in my facial expression. How peculiar that fate would throw us together like this; I pondered that for a moment while both of us attempted to straighten out our battered, confused brains. Neither of us had asked for nor given the other a name when she helped me home with my sprained ankle—which, incidentally, had only been lightly sprained and a night of ice and rest had solved the problem almost immediately. Then, much to my surprise, Lydia smiled and began to laugh. She had a rather plain face, but she had the most beautiful smile. “Oh, wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “I was oh so terrified that my roommate would be someone just awfully unfriendly!"

        I kept a guarded look fixed on her. “You seem pleased to be here,” I said, managing to turn the statement into a question.

        At that, Lydia’s face fell. “Well, no… not exactly,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “I figured that I should make the best of this, since there is no going back anyhow. Oh, I suppose you ending up here is all my fault!” she suddenly cried. “I used to be ever so careful, but then… you see, we—that is, my family –my family is really very poor, and Father was ill. I—I sold a painting to earn some money to heal him and the Web obviously found out—of course they would find out. Everyone said it was a gorgeous painting. I had no choice, you see, he was dying and we cannot live without Father, Mother passed away some years ago. Oh, I am so very sorry!”

        I recoiled from Lydia’s passionately upset speech punctuated with a few sniffles. She seemed a nice enough girl, if melodramatic and emotional. “You mean… the Web was there to observe you, and only found me by accident.” Suddenly, the awful truth was simply too appalling to bear. I had done nothing wrong and the fault was all Lydia’s. At Lydia’s cautious nod, I placed two fingers at my temple and massaged gently, definitely feeling a headache beginning to form. I blamed her with every fiber of my being, but it felt too cruel to inform her so.

        “I swear I never thought—”

        I cut her off. “I don’t blame you,” I lied with a sigh. I truly was a terrible person, having no pity for Lydia. I held her responsible for everything that had happened and while it felt good to shirk the guilt from my shoulders for ending up at the Web, I felt somehow guiltier that I blamed this naïve, fragile girl for everything. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to not blame her. I made a mental decision to divide the fault between us, placing a bit more on her shoulders—after all, had she not been so foolish in using her talent, the Web would have never overheard my singing. Then again, I mused, she had only tried to protect her family, the same thing I had done in my lack of resistance.

        I divided the blame equally among us without informing her so.

        Lydia smiled tentatively at me. “I suppose I should leave you alone to look at your bedroom,” she said. I nodded, pushing open the door to a small but well-furnished bedroom. A comfortable bed, sturdy dresser, and floor-length mirror caught my attention. I set the drawstring Web-issue bag down on the bed and began reading through the pamphlets.

        The Web-taken children, the exceptional ones, had to attend classes for a few weeks before receiving an assignment of several others to work with. Then, we would begin working with and getting to know our colleagues. We would integrate into the Web school, simply known as the Institute—the Web was quite creative with naming buildings –and go to school. We were expected to behave and do as instructed. There was a whole list of regulations, bans, do’s and don’ts; I soon developed a raging headache and groaned, leaning back on the bed, still in my nightclothes from last night. It felt like so much longer, as though years had passed since I last saw home.