The Reckless & The Brave

Chapter 1.

Chapter 1.

Reckless, adjective  

(of a person or their actions) without thinking or caring about the consequences of an action.

A lot of people are afraid of my town. Sure, we have ruthless guards by our borders, and every Saturday from eleven until three you can hear the grunts and cheers and screams from warrior training, but there are a lot of things that don't exactly qualify as scary.

Where I stay, Noble, it is quiet and calm, slightly nerdy, obviously wise, but what do you expect. There are times when you can hear the Reckless blasting music from there boom boxes, or the Brave's synchronized war cries, but in reality, it's quite peaceful.

I hate it.

We are here, living smack dab in the middle of the Daring City, and yet, nothing happens! I am someone who needs to get out there. And I would, if I had the guts. But I don't, so that's why I am still here. My older brother, Dylan, is quite the hero. He has guts, and so he joined the Brave years ago. Started training when he was thirteen. And now he's nineteen, six years later, and is the talk of the town. People expect similar things to come from me, and I wish I could give them what they want. What I want.

But not only to I crave adventure and action, but I crave less order. Every day, our schedules are perfectly simple, exactly the same, and horribly boring. I hear that the Brave schedules are similar, but with action. I don't know how that works. If there is action, things shouldn't always be the same.

So I should go straight to Reckless, right?

Wrong.

The Reckless are obviously brave, crazy people. They have brilliantly exciting lives, doing exciting, orderless things. There is still training and classes, but they are never the same. Always different. And if you aren't in Reckless, that's horrible. My parents hate the idea of no order and a messy schedule and they would be horrified, my whole family in shame for the daughter they had loved and trusted who had transferred to Reckless.

Luckily, I don't have guts. So they get there loving daughter. 

- - - - -

Taking a cab through my city is amazing. Really, it is. You zoom by, watching Noble mold into Reckless into Brave, beige houses into graffiti into zip lines, calm people, crazy people, brave people. I watch my people collaborate without really interacting. 

After my cab stops I pay the driver, who had stopped to compliment me on my t-shirt (obviously Noble), I step out onto the paved concrete. My sandals click softly against the ground, and I reach down to pull them off. I run down a hill until soft sand grasps my toes. Then I sigh and fall backwards, only to flip in the air as I have practiced for so long. I fall softly onto my feet, and hear a whistle.

Reckless kids, probably fourteen or fifteen, are down the beach. One waves and claps, and then they run quickly farther away. I roll my eyes to myself, and fall onto the sand, watching the water lap back and fourth. Noble dinner starts in thirty minutes, which means I have roughly fifteen minutes to myself. Think time.

Sometimes I make plans when I come to the ocean. Other times I dream of an orderless life that doesn't involve Noble. I guess other than being wanderlust-adventure-craving, I make a lot of wishes and dreams. Cheesy, I know. But it's true. I don't get to make a lot of my own decisions, unless I make an attempt to transfer, if I want to transfer. 

Out in the very distance, I can see another town against the horizon. There is nothing that connects us from that city. Except what they see, and what we can see. God, I wish I could be brave. Then I could sail a boat and see that city. Or join the Reckless. Maybe it's just me, but the order seems to get stricter and stricter.

I hear my digital watch make a quiet beep. Five minute warning. I sigh, rising to a standing position. 

Everyone can pick one class to concentrate on other than studies. I chose dance when I was five, because I thought I could always wear a dress and tip-toe around like a princess. Now I'm still a dancer, but I do more than ballet.

I flip vibrantly across the beach. At least I am brave enough to fly through the air for less than a second. Woah. I'm practically skydiving. When my watch beeps, I walk up to my sandals and slip them back on. Then I head to the bus stop on the corner. Cab here, bus back.

Right on time, the bus pulls up the second I arrive. I hop on, and stand holding on to one of the poles protruding from the ceiling. As soon as it stops near my house, I hop off and break into a run to my street. I inspect my watch. Darn, two minutes off schedule. My parents might kill me. I sprint down the cracked sidewalk until reaching my door. I take a minute to catch my breath, and as I reach for the door knob, it swings open to reveal a very unhappy person.

"Marcella, you are utterly and completely late." I grimace as my dad states the clear obvious. 

"Sorry?" I shove my hands into my pockets.

"Get inside now." My father points toward the inside of my home, and I obey. I walk into my room. It is an absolute mess, clothes on the floor, posters and drawings taped to the walls, books and papers everywhere. It's perfect.

 I wash my hands and face in my bathroom quickly, and pull my hair out of its tight ponytail, running a brush through the tangles. I pull off my pants and slide on a long-ish skirt that seems Noble enough, and than head to the dining room. I set the table and than take a seat, just in time for my mom to walk in with steaming plates of chicken and rice.

Inhaling deeply, I sweep my hair over my shoulder and tuck my napkin into my lap. My dad walks in, glaring at me and then smiling at my mom. He kisses her on the cheek and then sits down at the table. A few minutes into the silence of eating, my dad clears his throat and looks me in the face.

"You were late today. That is not a tolerable act." 

"She was late today?" My mother says, setting her fork down.

"Yeah dad, I was late today?" I say slightly sarcasticaly but otherwise just playing dumb.

"One hundred and twenty seconds late. That is a long time, and you know that. What if we had something important to tell you and we were expecting you on the dot, as we should." My dad narrows his eyes, and I roll mine. Woah. One hundred and twenty seconds! I need to check and see if my watch has the right time.

"Sass is not part of this relationship! I expect respect as your father." My dad says, and I sigh, pretending to look shameful. Please work, please work.

"I am sorry for not showing the proper respect. Being tardy and rolling my eyes is not how a Noble should act." I gag in my mouth as the words come out but on the outside I pretend to feel terrible about my 'intolerable actions'.

My mother seemed to approve of my apology, but not my dad. "I am sure you're sorry but there are consequences for disobeying our orders." Ugh, that word again. "You are going to be doing thirty more minutes of chores tomorrow to make up for your tardiness and eye rolling."

I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I may not be brave with my actions, but I am quite comfortable with speaking how I feel. And right now, I don't like where this is going. I only have extra time in my free hour, that is 'reccommended for studying, practicing or conversing with the other people in Noble.' Now I won't have time for my annual trip to the beach. 

"I deserve that. Thank you for dinner, may I be excused?" I say quietly, but trying not to look angry or disappointed. 

"Yes, you are welcome Marcella. You are excused." My mother nodded, and I swiftly picked up my plate and set it on the counter. Then I walked to my room. As soon as the door shut, I let out a 'ergh' and slammed my face into a pillow. I screamed as loud as I could, but the pillow softened it to an 'eeeeee'. When I was done, I rolled over onto my back and faced my ceiling. Maybe one day I could leave my stupid life with order. If I was brave enough, maybe one day.