It is a dreary day. It reflects my mood.
I'm terrified of what the aptitude test will tell me about myself. I am afraid of the results--afraid that the day will show me something that I don't want to see. Will they reflect my own secret desires; will they tell me I am destined for something other than what I should want? If I transfer, my parents, my sister, my friends will see me as a traitor. If they see me as anything. My parents have made it clear that we will be removed off the family tree, just as Sebastian was, if we decide to join a different faction.
Isla and I stare out opposite windows, our fingers entertwined as we drive to school. We pass a field of dandelions and exchange a quiet chuckle. Our father looks back at us for a quick moment, a crease appearing on his forehead, his eyebrows drawing low over his eyes. He looks like the typical Erudite--neatly combed black hair, rectangular glasses. He looks much younger than he is, and cleans up nicely. He and my mother are some of the higher-ups in our faction.
Classes will be cut in half today, and despite ourselves, Isla and I secretly rejoice in the fact. But my victory will be short-lived; what follows after fills me with dread.
"I wish I could see the future," I utter under my breath, but my mother's keen hearing picks up on it, and she sends me an exasperated look. Isla looks at me from the corner of her eye and gives an almost undetectable shake of her head.
"Elysium," my mother says and turns to face us. "I will tell you this only one more time; wishes are useless. If you're going to be a proper Erudite--"
"Only I'm not," I spit. "Am I?"
My mother shoots me a narrow-eyed look, but it is not entirely hostile. More concerned.
"You'll have to be." It is my father that speaks, instead of her.
My mother smiles slightly, her features softening just a little bit. "I'm sorry, baby." Her delicateness suprises me. She may be much less cynical and strict than my father, she has never called me 'baby.' She reaches out as if to touch me, but her movements falter and she pulls her hand back. "I know this will be a hard day."
The rest of the ride to school is silent, and Isla stares at me with an almost disappointed look painted across her face--her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips tilt downwards in a perplexed frown. I try and ignore her as she studies me. I know am not usually this snappish, and my sister must be trying to figure out why I chose today to act out..
"Out you go," my father, James tells us and follows us out, along with our mother, a tiny woman with flaming auburn hair and an airbrushed face too beautiful to be overlooked. She offers each of us a handshake, seeing as it would be impractical to give us hugs--the extra display of affection is not necessary--and smiles.
"Make us proud, girls," my father says. "You know what the right choice is."
Our mother waits for him to get back in the car then embraces each of us in turn. She holds me in her arms for a little bit longer, and whispers, "You don't have to stay here. Be happy and be safe." Then she pulls away and acts as if nothing passed between us. As far as I can see, she didn't say the same thing to Isla, but of course she didn't. We all know what she'll choose.
My mother brushes her thumb over my cheekbone, then turns and drives away with dad. Isla turns and gives me a look.
"You have to stop doing that," she says.
"Doing what?" I ask casually, picking at my fingernails leisurely.
"You know what," Isla hisses. "You're provoking them with your wishes." She pauses and gives me a pointed look. "It wasn't cute when we were little, and it still isn't."
