986 (Complex Series, #1)

Chapter Seven

She stares at the napkin before slowly raising her eyes to mine. I gape back at her, not sure what to do. She’s clearly seen it, there’s no way to hide it. I open my mouth, trying to think of some lie to tell her.

            She urgently shakes her head and I shut my mouth. She reaches down and scoops up the napkin, slipping it into her pants’ pocket. She hurries me into the shower and closes the door behind me.

The steaming water pours over me, but I’m numb to the pain. What is she going to do with the napkin? Will she turn me now that she has solid evidence? Is she too confused to think straight herself? Does she plan on helping me, getting rid of the evidence? What about the cameras and listening devices? What if they caught the flash of white too? Even if she wanted to help me, she couldn’t. Not if the other Officials already knew.

The water shuts off and I stumble out of the small room. She’s back to being a cold, unreadable Official. I dry my off and get dressed, watching her for any type of sign of emotion. What does she plan to do with the incriminating napkin?

My Renewal passes without any clear message. She applies a little lip gloss before backing away, “You are dismissed.”

I stride out of the room, glancing at her over my shoulder. Her hand is in her pocket that has my napkin in it.

˚˚°˚˚

I try to mentally prep for the Singing Ceremony throughout Morning Meal. What if I mess up a song or the tune? How strict are they going to be? What if my Official is meaner than the rest, and sends me even if I don’t mess up?

I clench my teeth and put away my tray. I follow the crowd to the Lecture Hall. I reach the doors and falter. The seats where we normally fit are filled with Officials. Each has their own hologram up and running, typing into it just like at Opening Speeches. Except there are so many more. Close to two hundred Officials. I’ve never seen so many. An Official stands on the stage, speaking into a microphone. I tune into her words, “…up here. Find your number along the platforms.”

I climb up to the stage. Platforms line the stage. Each platform an little higher than the one in front of it. I step up the platforms, searching for my number. It’s on one of the higher platforms. I take my spot, vulnerable under the bright lights and the Officials’ stares. 

Girls still slowly spill through the doors, the lines backed up with confusion. The Official with the microphone repeats herself several times. I search the crowd as I wait for the others to find their places. I find the Official sitting in my seat. I can’t see anything from the distance, just her tilted head focusing on the hologram.

The Official with the microphone says, “Hold out your hand. The Officials will give you a microphone. Wait for instructions after your receive it.”

I lift my right hand into the air, pretending not to notice how badly it’s shaking. An Official comes through our row and places a tiny metal object in my hand. I bring it closer to my face. It’s smaller than my pinkie nail, shaped in a flat circle, cold seamless steel.

“Put the adhesive side here.” She motions on her own face. The small nook at the top of your lips, directly below your nose. I press it to my skin, the device sticking immediately to my skin. It itches against my lips, but I keep my face still.

She waits a few more minutes as everyone else gets organized.

“We will now begin.”

The Official with the microphone stands in front and raises her hands. The flat tune of the Anthem plays from the hidden speakers around us. The Official directs us into the Anthem, her hands moving in perfect time with the beat.