Anonymous

Awakening

"Get up, girl. Don't you have work to do?" I'm pulled out of oblivion by an unfriendly shove on the shoulder. "You can't be lying around here, the peacekeepers will beat you for it."

It's my first instinct to jerk upright, but I regret it as soon as I bang my forehead on the underside of a wooden pallet. I groan from the instant, throbbing pain, and the voice scoffs.

"Get out from under there." It's a female voice, unsentimental and nettled. And impatient.

Unfamiliar surroundings assault me as I take in the area. The air is smoky, the world grey and bleak. Buildings emitting smoke are reaching the sky, and the hidden sun gives a surprising brightness.

The woman standing in front of me wears a blue skirt and green blouse, hair braided over her shoulder. I don't recognize her, but my words are out before I can stop myself, confusion overcoming caution. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"How hard did you hit your head?" the woman asks, frowning at me. "You shouldn't be near the train stop, anyway. It's probably illegal." She shakes her fist. "Clever hiding spot, right up until you dropped this."

"What's that?" She holds up the burlap bag, and I squint at it. "It isn't mine."

"Really? Guess I'll just keep this, then." She draws a simple silver pendant out of the bag. "Bet I could get a good price for this at the pawnshop. Too bad you don't want it." The woman dangles it tantalizingly in front of me. "Such a shame..."

"Maybe it is mine," I say, unsure of what I should be saying. I don't know this woman. I don't know where I am. I don't know what to do. But having the necklace could be useful, especially if it's worth something.

"You sure? Lying's a crime," she says, but she tosses me the bag anyway, pendant inside. "You don't look the type to own a pretty necklace."

I look down at myself, knowing I should be offended. But it's true, my clothes torn and filthy, my hair hangs loosely over my shoulders, and there are cuts and scrapes up and down my arms.

"You look you escaped from a hospital or something," the woman remarks. "What's your name?"

My name? It should come to me instantly, a basic instinct. But I can't remember it. I'd make something up, but the woman said that lying was a crime. I can't remember anything. "I don't know."

"How does a girl your age not know her own name?" she sneers. "Where do you live? I'm taking you home."

I can't remember that either, and it must show on my face. The woman snatches my wrist. "You can't be wandering around out here like this. Come on, I'm taking you to the mayor."

It's a long walk there, and my bare feet catch on the muddy ground. My soles are tough, and my body seems used to travel, but not in this mud. The woman doesn't talk much as we go, but I learn that her name is Jean Placket from what she does say.

Jean bangs on the back door of the wooden house, and its sheer size is not what amazes me but the cleanliness. The house looks brand-new. The door swings open a minute later.

"What do you want, Jean?" an old man asks. He looks haggard, coughing into his sleeve. He blocks the doorway into the house, arms crossed.

"I need to talk to Mayor Selvage," Jean said. "It's important."

"It's always important," the old man muttered, but he led us up to an office anyway. "Wait here." He pointed to a bench before walking off, mumbling to himself.

I sit stiffly next to Jean, gripping the burlap bag and trying desperately to remember why I had it. But it's no use, the memory is gone, along with everything before waking up. Almost as if it never existed.

Jean explains to the mayor what happened when she found me, and I stand silently next to her. I'm not asked for my opinion. The mayor must consider Jean trustworthy, as he nods along to what she's saying with a few glances at me.

When Jean's done, the mayor picks up the phone and presses a few buttons. He holds it up to his ear before speaking for a few minutes, expressionless face. He's agreeing with whoever he's talking to, and he puts the phone down before addressing me for the first time.

"Mrs. Tallwood will be here in a few minutes, and in the meantime I'll register you as a citizen of District Eight. Jean, thank you for your assistance."

She gives him a curt nod before giving me a look. It's complex, but the meaning is clear. Be careful.