Republican Phenoms

The Other Prodigy

June

I'm waiting for the trials to complete.

Since my last name is Iparis, I finished the interview portion of my trial before most of the other kids. Now I'm just waiting for the rest of the kids to finish. I sit there as I watch the children return from their interviews. Most of them look nervous. One boy came out with a face as white as a ghost's. A couple of the kids, probably from gem sectors like myself, leave the interviews with confident expressions on their faces.

"How do you think you did?" a girl next to me asks. She's a little skinny and her clothes are a little tattered. She must be from a slum sector.

"Fine," I say. The test was easier than I thought it would be, actually. I won't tell the girl that; she looks nervous, like she doesn't know whether she passed or not. "How do you think you did?"

"I don't know," she replies. "I think I passed, but I was hoping to do better. My parents were hoping that I'd do well. They wanted me to be the first person in our family to graduate from high school."

So my suspicions were right. I have no doubt that I passed. For me, the only question is if I did well enough to get into an elite school, or whether I'll be going to one of the less prestigious colleges.

Earlier this year, some slum sector kid named Daniel scored a perfect score. It was all over the Jumbotrons, because it had never happened before. After a few days, the trial committee decided that he needed to take the trial again, just in case it was a fluke the first time. Again, his score was perfect.

His parents are probably like the people that clean the common areas of my apartment complex, or recycle trash, yet half the Republic has been fawning all over him because he scored so well on his trials. It doesn't help that he's cute. At school, half of the girls have been gossiping about him, talking about how adorable and amazing they think he is.

Gag me.

I think the biggest problem is that he knows that he's cute. I've seen him give a few interviews on the news, and he always seem to have this smug grin on his face. Every time I see him, I want to reach into the television screen and slap it off of his face.

"I'm Marie," she says, her red curls bobbing with her hair.

"June."

"I hope this finishes soon. I just want to know my score."

"There's fifty-seven more kids left." I counted them earlier.

"That many?" she sighs. "I wonder if any of us will get a perfect score like that Wing kid."

"Doubt it." Ugh. It was six months ago. Do I have to keep hearing about him?

"He's dreamy."

I roll my eyes. He's cute, but so what? He's probably a jerk.

When the rest of the kids finish the trials, a man comes out and talks to us, congratulating us on finishing the trials, and letting us know that he will be separating us into groups based on our rankings.

Metias already told me about this part. The first kids he calls will be the ones that failed the trial. They'll line up and get on a bus to go to the labor camps.

I know I'll be in the second group. He'll hand us a piece of paper with our scores on it. The scores will dictate what our opportunities are going to be. Those with low scores will be assigned a work assignment at the end of the year; kids with higher scores will be given different choices of colleges based on how they rank. Those that barely make it into college will have to attend a local school; the kids with the highest scores will be able to choose from one of the elite universities. If I score high enough, I want to go to Drake, which is the top school in the Republic.

Marie is not in the first group. "Those are the kids that failed the trial," I whisper to her. She looks visibly relieved.

The man at the front continues to call names, after we watch the kids that failed the trial line up and head out of the stadium. As they come to the front, they receive their scores. I watch the emotions of the kids as they receive their scores, which range from delight to disappointment.

I wonder where I am going to place.

I watch as they call all of the other kids in front of me. When Marie gets her paper, she doesn't look excited or incredibly upset. I'm sure that she didn't have high expectations; she probably either didn't make it into high school or just barely got in.

I end up being the last name that they call.

"June Iparis," the man says. "Follow me."

This is not standard, at least from what Metias told me. He takes me back underneath the stadium, into a room with eight other adults in it. One of the men in the room stands up and shakes my hand. "My name is Chien," he says. "I would like to congratulate you on your perfect trial score."

My eyes widen. I got a perfect score?

"It's unprecedented, I know," Chien says. "Before this year, we had never seen anybody get a perfect score, yet this year, you're the second person to achieve it. Of course, you'll have to retake the trial to make sure that it wasn't a mistake, but I'm sure you'll do fine."

I smile. Take that, cute Wing boy!

"A perfect score like yours comes with certain... responsibilities," Chien says. "I know your brother Metias; he used to work with me. So I'm sure that you know all about how having talent and being from a prominent family brings responsibility with it. As you know, the Republic is trying to get the upper hand in the war against the Colonies. We need to get our most gifted leaders into the fight as quickly as possible. If you are up to the challenge, we would like to see you finish your high school coursework in the next two years and start attending Drake University shortly after your twelfth birthday."

I'm sure that I can do that. I've already skipped a couple of grades.

Another man with a folder on his lap speaks up. "I know that finances are not going to be a problem for you, but you will be receiving a full scholarship to Drake, along with a small sum to help pay for your living expenses, effective today. You don't have to decide now, but if you want to stay in the dorms while attending Drake, you have that option, otherwise, if you want to continue living with your brother, you can choose that, and we'll provide you with a small additional stipend in lieu of the room and board costs."

This must have been what they offered that slum kid. Scholarships to the university are standard for high-achieving students, but receiving a monthly stipend while still in high school is not.

"Thank you," I respond.

"Again, I would like to congratulate you onyour perfect trial score," Chien says, shaking my hand. "I'm looking forward to seeing more goodthings from you."