Gifted

Chapter 1 Revised

Clara’s POV

It was morning; I could tell by the way the room was lit. I didn’t want to get out of bed but my conscience commanded my body to get up. Silently, I crept across the freezing floor; the cold wasn’t uncommon here in City 0310315. Careful not to wake my brother, I gathered up my things for a shower. In the dim light I could make out the outline of Bret’s body, his snore uneven like a broken metronome. His soft blonde hair was ruffled up against the pillow, and his normally blue eyes closed but still soft and round.

After I had collected my things, I slipped around the corner of the bedroom and into the bathroom. I had just taken off my nightgown when I heard a slight sigh from the doorway. Whirling around, I saw that it was Bret. Scrambling around, I grabbed my nightgown and covered myself as best as I could.

“You could learn to knock you know,” I shouted. I felt my cheeks burn red.

“Or you could learn to close the door, Clara,” he smirked. I felt my cheeks glow brighter remembering my foolish mistake. Who knew my serious twin had a comedic side.

“What are you still doing in here? Get out!” I slammed the door in his face. Maybe it wasn’t the nicest way to start our day but I had a good reason to be upset. Today was our birthday.

I swallowed hard before coming down the hallway. Since today was my 15th birthday, I was permitted to wear whatever I wanted. I chose the light pink dress that my mother made for me.

In the kitchen mother was in the kitchen making breakfast while Bret sat at the table eating. I had hoped Papa could be here but his boss wouldn’t let him off work.

“Took you long enough,” Bret scowled his mouth full of food.

“Bret, mind your manners,” Mother snapped but Bret ignored her focusing on me for an unknown reason. I wandered into the kitchen and gave mother a hug. Nervous butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. In a few short minutes I would be gone, possibly forever. Tears rolled down my face and landed on mother’s shoulder as I remembered the lesson I’d been taught my whole life.

When you turn 15 you are taken to be Marked. You are injected with a serum that grades you on your strengths and weaknesses. After the process is complete, the serum then scars the area around the injection with a Mark. A Mark defines what class you are, and your class determines who you are.

There are 5 Marks; Excellent, the highest Mark defined by a scar shaped like a star. Choice, 2nd highest Mark, the scar is in the shape of a circle. The third Mark is Necessity, my mother and father are Marked like this the scar looks like a pentagon. 4th place is Adequate, it is Marked in the shape of a square and finally Bellow Standard is last. Bellow Standard is the worst Mark they are cast out by the government as useless. Their skin doesn’t Mark at all after the injection. I would rather die than be Bellow Standard.

Mother gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze which snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Happy Birthday sweetie,” her eyes are red and puffy but she is not crying. She’s trying to be strong…for us. She hands me a bowl of oatmeal and I sit down to eat. Bret glances around the room as I eat. He knows that twins have very high chances of being Marked the same, but even if that were to happen to us there is no guarantee we will be kept together.

After breakfast we grabbed the duffel bags we had pack the previous night. They contained everything we would need to live on our own, whatever we were Marked.

“Happy Birthday, guys,” Mother cheerfully, smiling through the tears. Then she handed us each a small box. Bret and I open up the box simultaneously to find matching pins sparkling with orange and green gems.

“Your father wanted so badly to be here when you opened them…,” Mother trailed off and began to cry. Bret pulled her into a hug to comfort her. Even though Mother never finished her explanation I knew that this was the family crest. Father had always talked about giving it to us when we turned 15. Papa had to have a second on made for me since he only had one made. Originally, it was supposed to go to our older brother, Adam but he died a few days after he was born.

I joined Bret and Mother in a hug until the clock chimed for us to leave. Mother smiled holding back her tears as we headed out the door. I truly wanted to believe I would see her again, but the odds were certainly not in that favor.