Chosen Ones (5 page)

I shifted as I waited for him to continue, clutching the books against my chest. But he didn’t answer, merely sat back at his desk and placed his face into his hands. The silence was uncomfortable. There was a small part of me that felt responsible for this boy’s state. He had lost something the moment he took me by the wrist and led me away from the others.

On the whole, this knowledge didn’t bother me. I shouldn’t care what he felt—it was wrong he felt anything at all. But deep inside, waiting in the place where weakness still struggled to live, I did feel bad. It was the same part of me that longed to see my sister again. The part of me I worked so hard to destroy.

I began to pick up the other books around the room, placing them nicely and neatly onto the bookshelf. I tried to make as little noise as possible. I’m not sure if I did this for his sake or for mine. As I reached for a novel that lay on his bed, the boy snatched it from my hands with a quickness that left me startled.

“Don’t touch this. Do you hear?” he whispered.

I nodded.

I glimpsed the title as he shoved it in a drawer inside his desk: Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein
.

He cleared his throat, offering a small smile.

“Music? I mean, if we’re going to do this, we might as well do it right. So how about it?” he asked suddenly. It was an obvious attempt at concealing the man he had briefly flashed before me—a chosen one, a boy, someone who felt fear.

I should have told him no. The council may not have cared that he listened to music; I knew they would care that I did. But I didn’t say a word. He quickly moved around his room bringing out what I recognized as records. Of course I had never owned any, but growing up my father had described them to me so vividly. He was a lover of music.

The council had been convinced these things, treasures of knowledge and expression, aided in our natural need to weaken ourselves. We were slaves to our emotions, our sensitivity. The council and its chosen ones would only protect us if we gave them something in return. We gave them everything. Music, books, our personal sense of style, our houses—these were only the material things. Most of what we gave them could not be quantified.

As I watched the chosen one flip through his collection of records, I felt the tiniest bit of guilt. There was a part of me that had always agreed with every word the council had told us.

But there was another part of me, the quieter side of myself, that experienced a sense of sublime ecstasy at the sight of them. I felt my legs go weak and didn’t wait for permission to sit down, instead taking the chair across the room. I felt safer the farther away I was from him. But if a chosen one allowed me to listen to music, could it be so bad?

“What shall we listen to?” he asked, more to himself than to me. It was odd. While his hands held onto the records, he seemed calmer. At ease. Normal.

“Oh, anything.” When had my voice ever sounded so eager?

He chuckled and flashed me a genuine smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt something drop in my stomach. Did I just smile? It had been an unconscious response.

It was then I heard the song, the same song we had played on the piano. My hands shook slightly as if they ached to play it themselves, awakening in them the freedom I had tasted in the piano room. I leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes. This was heaven. I heard the crackle of the record player as the song ended.

“Again,” I whispered, still keeping my eyes closed.

He didn’t reply. I barely heard him move, but the song started up again.

I let the music seep through me, taking me over—I didn’t care if he was watching. The notes ran up my spine; I could feel goose bumps rise across my hands. I suppressed the chattering of my teeth. It was rebellious, and I craved it so. But it was more than that. It was love—pure, uncomplicated love. It was my father. It was Emma. Everything I had to repress on a daily basis. It was Henry. It was the boy sitting in the room with me.

My eyes flashed open at the thought of him. He was looking away, though I saw how the blush moved down his cheeks to his neck. He looked as if he had stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to see. The music came to a stop. The sound of my heavy breathing filled the room; it was almost deafening. I could feel my heart happily fluttering.

He cleared his throat.

“Beautiful,” I said softly.

“Yes,” he replied, staring down at his hands, still avoiding my gaze.

How could I explain what the song meant to me? There were no words.

“Don’t worry; we will listen to it again next time,” he said.

When the song ended, I couldn’t fully believe that I would ever get to hear the music again. I wondered if he read the disappointment I felt, because in that instant he reached out to touch my face, and I slammed myself against the wall as fast as I could. He would not touch me like that. I wouldn’t let him. He had tried to touch my cheek. That was unacceptable, a world of danger I was not willing to enter.

And worst of all, I actually wondered what it would feel like to be touched again.

He placed his hands out, palms facing mine, a stance of surrender. “I’m not going to touch you. I promise. I’m sorry.”

I wanted to run, but I had to remember who and where I was. I still answered to him and his people, and overreacting would only make things worse. After a few moments, I moved a step closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

I hadn’t, of course. My reaction was justified, right, and acceptable.

“No, your reaction at least made sense. You must always remind me of my place, Tess.”

“Isn’t it your job to remind me of mine?” I blurted without thinking.

He laughed. His laugh was almost becoming familiar to me.

“I think it is probably all right for you to return now.”

“Oh, yes, right,” I mumbled.

“Well, I guess I will see you next time. We’ll move on to books. I was thinking maybe a bit of Shakespeare or the Brontës. You seem like you would be a fan.”

My mind was whirling with the thought. Part of me never wanted to see him again, and part of me shuddered at the possibility of passing up the opportunity he was offering. The more realistic side of me knew it did not matter what I felt—I had no choice, of course. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear it. Then I stopped abruptly before exiting the room.

“I don’t even know your name.”

I’m not sure why this mattered.

“James.”

I could feel the change even on the transport home. The other girls kept looking at me in such strange ways. Some girls giggled and whispered, pinching me with their eyes. A few avoided my gaze so forcefully it was bluntly and painfully obvious. One girl in particular just stared. She looked at me with what could only be described as sadness.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that the next chapter of my story was already known to everyone on the transport. Everyone except me.

Chapter 6

I remember the day Emma told me she was getting married.

“Please try and understand, Tess,” my sister begged.

Of course I understood. If I were honest, I would have told her I understood perfectly. I knew what everyone thought of me—they thought I had no heart. I did. It beat the same as everyone else’s. I was just better at controlling it.

But I didn’t know how to put a smile on my face and pretend it didn’t destroy me a little more every time I admitted I wished for something or someone just to stay with me. And so I avoided wishing for anything at all.

“You like Robert. You told me you liked him,” she said.

She was begging me now. I sat on my cot with my knees pulled to my chest. Emma sat next to me and placed her forehead against the side of my head. I could feel her tears fall onto my shoulder.

“You don’t need my permission,” I snapped.

“Yes, yes I do.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, if I said right now that I didn’t want you to marry him, you wouldn’t?”

She fell silent. My sister, who had always put everyone first, finally had done something for herself. I didn’t mind that. I just wished she wasn’t showing her independence by choosing death.

“What if you get pregnant?” I whispered.

She hesitated before answering. “I won’t.”

“You can’t just say it won’t happen and hope it doesn’t. That’s not how it works.”

She let out a sigh.

She was going to leave me.

I grabbed for her hand and clutched onto it with all my might. “Please. Don’t. This is dangerous. I like Robert, but he messes you up. You don’t think around him.”

“Tess…”

“You have a family. Why can’t we be enough?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“I love you and Louisa, but there’s more to this life than what you have settled for. You’ve crawled so deep inside yourself I wonder if you even know you have a self to save. Trust me. There’s so much more to this life. I love him, Tess. I love him.”

I shook my head.

“One day you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“No. I won’t ever be dumb enough to fall in love!” I yelled. I pushed myself off the cot and stormed out of the room, colliding with Louisa on my way. No doubt she was eavesdropping.

“You’re not being very fair.”

“Leave me alone,” I muttered.

She grabbed me by the arm to stop me. “I’m scared, too.” Her eyes filled with tears, and I wondered if she was freaking out. When our sister died, she would be stuck with only me. The girl who sought approval would never be able to win mine.

We were too different from each other to ever have that happen.

“Come on. She’s really excited about this. Can’t you be happy for her?”

I wished I could. I wished my sister would be happy. But I turned on Louisa. “Do you want to see her dead?”

Her face went pale. “She promised she would be careful. And I believe her. She won’t let us down. Rob’s a good guy, Tess. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Emma. You should know that.”

I rolled my eyes. Delusional.

“You’re just jealous,” Louisa replied.

“What?”

“You think you’re better than all of us, but I see the way you look at Henry. You think he’s cute. You’re always so quiet when he’s around and you used to laugh at his weird, dark jokes. You like him, but you figure you’re not brave enough to let him in, so no one else can have anyone.”

I wanted to yell at her, tell her she was ridiculous, but suddenly found it impossible to speak.

Out of nowhere, I was struck by how much Louisa resembled my mother. She looked less and less like a little girl and more like a woman every day. Her reckless nature and uncontrolled emotions left her vulnerable. And she was growing prettier and prettier.

“If you think I’m a girl who cares more about some boy than the safety of her sister, then you don’t know me at all,” I said.

“How can anyone know you? Me least of all. You think I’m just some kid, an annoying little brat. Emma’s all I have too, you know. But I love her enough to be happy for her!”

Without another word, Louisa left me standing in the hallway.

I pushed through the crowds that were heading into the mess hall. I just wanted to be alone. No. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with Emma, but she had chosen someone else.

Robert.

Was I jealous?

I walked back and forth in the little dirt courtyard behind the compound. It wasn’t much, but at least it was away from the constant noise. There’s nothing like being surrounded by a bunch of people to really make you feel alone.

I grabbed a piece of coal and threw it into the air. There was a ton of the stuff lying around—relics from the compound’s past. I noticed how the coal left black smudges against my hand. I liked the feel of it on my fingers, a silky yet gritty coating over my skin.

Contradictory. Different. Always.

With a ragged grunt, I sat down on the ground. I took the piece of coal I held in my hand and began to sketch out a set of piano keys. I just needed the music again. If I could only have the music, I would be able to save my family.

As I pressed my fingers into the dirt I began to hum. I hummed the only song I could remember.

I kept playing it over and over until a shadow fell across me.

“I didn’t know you were planning a concert tonight,” Robert remarked.

I didn’t turn to look at him. I worried his face would undo me. He was hard to hate.

“Please. Go away,” I whispered.

Instead, Robert crouched down beside me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and I fought against the strange need to turn my body toward him. I was filled with the same feeling that always consumed me when I was around him—like I knew him. Like he had existed in my life before this place.

But that wasn’t possible.

“I’d love to let you sit here and mope, but that wouldn’t be very nice of someone who’s going to call you family soon.”

“Family,” I repeated.

“Yes, Tess. Family. Can’t you see what you’re gaining here? I can help protect your sisters. I know you feel like you’ve got to do it all on your own, but I can help,” he said.

“By getting Emma pregnant,” I charged.

“I won’t let that happen. I’ll make her do the sterilization.”

“Good luck. She refuses it, Robert, you know that. Please stop talking to me like we both don’t know what this is about.”

“What’s this about then?” he asked quietly.

It was about everything changing. Robert had been a good friend to us all. Now he wouldn’t be that anymore. He would belong to her, and she would belong to him.

Robert reached out and grabbed my hand. “Please, talk to her. She’s really upset. I’ll protect her, Tess, I swear.”

I could feel the coal residue slip between our hands. I was unable to stop myself from turning to face him. He loved my sister. I couldn’t blame him.

I couldn’t.

“Swear, Robert. Swear again,” I urged.

“I swear.”

I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat.

“Now will you go talk to her?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I can’t. I just needed to hear you promise to take care of her.”

I ripped my hand from Robert’s and walked away.