Graduation Day (3 page)

I recognize the words for what they are. A dismissal. Though being cleared into the building says I have a right to walk these halls, no amount of confidence can hide my youthful face or small stature. Both mark me as a student who should not have any reason to send missives to the leader of the United Commonwealth.

“There must be a way to get a message to the president.” I use the firm, measured tone my father employed whenever he talked to Mr. Taubs about his goat eating the new seedlings planted near his farm.

“There is,” the gray-haired man to the left admits.

Before he can order me to leave, I say, “My name is Malencia Vale. I'm the president's intern. President Collindar asked me several weeks ago to speak to her about a specific subject. I would like someone to get her a message that I am here and am willing to discuss that topic now.”

“The president does not take—”

The gray-haired official holds up a hand, cutting off his partner's angry words. Quietly, he says, “I will have your message sent, and I hope it is as important as you believe. If not, you'll discover there's a cost to your misjudgment. Is that a price you are willing to pay?”

Cost. I know what Dr. Barnes's price is for a failure in judgment. Does the president require the same payment? I have not worked in this office long enough to know its secrets, but I know Michal did not fully place his faith in President Collindar. I don't either, but I have only to think of Tomas and all those whose lives could be threatened to know that no matter the price, I will pay it.

A nod is all it takes for the gray-haired official to disappear through a small door to the left. When he returns he says, “I've relayed your message. You're to wait here.”

For what, he doesn't say. The president? Officials who have deemed my request inappropriate? The only thing I am certain of is that my request to speak to the president has not gone unnoticed. Younger officials whom I have seen working in the cramped offices on the upper floors whisper to each other as they walk down the stairs in groups of twos and threes. While they pretend to be on some kind of errand, the looks they send in my direction speak of their true purpose. I hear one whisper that they hope I know what I am doing.

I hope I do, too. The more people who walk by, the more certain I am that news of this meeting request will spread beyond this building. Michal's job in this office was arranged through Symon's connections within the government. Symon planted Michal here to keep an eye on the president and report her plans, but I doubt Michal was the only informant assigned to that task.

Resisting the urge to pace, I keep my eyes straight ahead and hope the nerves I feel do not show on my face. After what seems like hours, a dark-haired woman in ceremonial red appears at the top of the stairs. She gives me a considering look before handing the gray-haired official a note. He reads it, nods, and walks over to me. “This way.”

He leads me to the double doors of the president's private quarters. Opening the doors, he steps back and says, “You are to wait in this room. They will come for you when they are ready.”

Before I can ask who “they” is, the official nudges me into a small antechamber. The doors behind me close. The dim lights and gray walls make the room feel as if it is caught in shadow. A bright white door stands directly in front of me. The silver knob is polished to a shine.

A memory stirs. Six white doors with silver handles. Five marked with black numbers. The sixth is the exit. This door resembles the ones I stood in front of during the third part of The Testing. A test designed not only to evaluate our individual academic skills, but to examine our ability to assess correctly the strengths and weaknesses of our teammates.

“Malencia Vale.” A female voice emanates from a small speaker in the wall. “You may now enter.”

I put my hand on the knob and take a deep breath. During The Testing I had to make a decision—to walk through the door and face the test I found inside or to leave without entering. To believe that my teammates were working toward the same goal or to think that one who should be working for the common good had betrayed. During The Testing, I left through the exit. Today, I turn the knob and go inside.

No one is there.

The large room is painted a sunny yellow. Situated on one side is a long black table. On the other is a grouping of blue-cushioned chairs in front of a crackling fire. To the right of the fireplace is a closed door.

I open my bag, turn off the Transit Communicator, and take a seat in one of the cushioned chairs as the door opens. President Collindar stalks in. Her tall stature and sleekly cut black hair command attention, as does her fitted red jacket. She nods to acknowledge my presence and turns to speak to someone standing in the doorway behind her. “I've given you all the information I have. I hope you'll be ready.”

“You can trust me,” a male voice says.

My breath catches as a gray-haired man comes into the room and gives me a broad smile. The same smile I saw him give this morning, just a moment before he pulled the trigger and ended Michal's life. A smile that belongs to the rebel leader—Symon Dean.

Metal glints in the light as his coat shifts. He has a gun. Most likely the same one he used to murder Michal. His eyes meet mine, and I feel the pull of them just as I did when we met before. We have met only twice, during the fourth stage of The Testing, when he gave me food and water. Aid that he supplied to give the rebels a sense of victory, to keep them from feeling they could more successfully end The Testing on their own. But I am not supposed to have those memories. Any sign of recognition will be a sign that my Testing memories have returned.

Blood roars in my ears. I swallow down the anger and fear and force my expression into one of calm interest. Seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before Symon shifts his attention from me back to the president. “Everything will be ready, but I still think you should postpone the debate.” I try not to show surprise at Symon's words as he and the president walk farther into the room. “While postponing will be viewed by many as a sign of weakness, the extra days you gain will give us a chance to rally more votes. As it stands now—”

The president raises a hand and shakes her head. “Already there are those who waver in their support. A delay could push them to change their minds. Unless you can guarantee that you will be able to find what I need—”

“You know a guarantee is not possible.”

“Which means the debate goes ahead as planned. One way or another, by the end of the week I will declare victory.”

“Then there is much to discuss.” Symon gives a weary sigh, but I do not think I imagine the triumphant glint I see in his eyes. Suggesting the president would lose political clout by postponing her Debate Chamber proposal was his way of eliminating any thought she had of doing just that. He is smart. I hope she is even smarter.

President Collindar nods. “I will meet you downstairs as soon as I am done discussing my intern's University experience. I thought having a student refresh my memory of the curriculum would help, considering the topic of this week's debate. This shouldn't take long.”

Symon casts one more look at me before nodding his head and disappearing through the door. When he is gone, President Collindar sits in a chair across from me. “I told Symon and other members of my staff that I asked you to meet with me this weekend after you finished the work you were assigned by your teachers. I thought it would be safer for you if word spread that you were here at my command instead of by your own initiative. There are events happening this week that could make it difficult for you to be seen as more than just an intern for me and my office.”

“I know,” I say.

One of the president's eyebrows rises, but she does not speak. She simply waits for me to continue. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. How I present my information is just as important as what I say. I must keep calm. In control. This is the most important test I have faced thus far in my life. Too much is riding on the correct answer. I cannot fail.

“I know your team has been searching for tangible proof that Dr. Barnes's methods for Testing and in running the University push beyond the bounds of what is acceptable. I've been told that without this evidence, the vote to remove Dr. Barnes from control will be unsuccessful.”

President Collindar leans back in her chair. Her dark hair gleams against the light blue fabric as she studies me. “Your information is accurate. Could the reason you're here now change that?”

“I hope so. Although not in the way I think you mean.” I take a deep breath and explain. “The Tosu City official who escorted me from Five Lakes Colony to The Testing began working for you just before my internship started. His name was Michal Gallen.” I see a flicker of awareness cross her features as the name registers. “Michal told me he was transferred to this office through the influence of a man named Symon, who was leading the movement to put a stop to Dr. Barnes and his extreme methods. I was informed that because of my age, it was too dangerous for me to be involved in the rebellion against Dr. Barnes. I had nightmares about my Testing experience. I didn't know if the flashbacks were real, but they made me determined to help in any way I could. Without Symon's knowledge, Michal gave me a task. He asked me to help find the proof needed to convince the Debate Chamber to vote Dr. Barnes from power. Yesterday, I brought Michal the evidence you've been seeking.”

President Collindar leans forward.

Before she can ask for what I can no longer give, I say, “Michal took the evidence to Symon.” Her smile falters as she shifts her attention to the door through which Symon withdrew. “Since Symon didn't know about my involvement, Michal was reluctant to bring me to the rebel camp. I insisted. I hid as Michal turned over the proof that would have brought an end to The Testing. And then I watched as Symon took out a gun and shot him. The evidence is gone. Michal is dead.”

President Collindar studies me. Her expression is devoid of emotion. My heart thuds in my chest. I fight the urge to squirm under her gaze. I want to beg her to believe me. But I can tell she is weighing my words. Judging my motives. My honesty.

Finally she says, “You claim Michal Gallen is dead. Can you prove it?”

“No,” I admit. Although maybe I could. Raffe was there. If the president were to summon him here, his account could add weight to mine. But I have not mentioned his involvement. To do so now might make President Collindar wonder what else I haven't been forthcoming about. Perhaps more important, if President Collindar does not believe me, she will certainly mention this meeting to Symon. Redirection will not be far behind. In case Raffe is truly to be trusted, I will not entwine my fate with his. However, I realize there is one fact that will lend credence to my words. “Michal will not report for work Monday or in the days to come.” I ball my hands into fists as tears filled with sorrow and guilt prick my eyes and lodge in my throat. “His absence will confirm I am telling the truth, but by then it will be too late.”

“Too late for what?” President Collindar asks quietly, but I can see by the tension in her jaw that she has done the equation in her head. If I am to be believed, Michal is dead by the hands of someone she's close to. Someone who has helped plan this vote and the attack on Dr. Barnes that is scheduled to come with its failure.

Still, I answer. “By the time people know for certain Michal is missing, you will have already made your proposal on the Debate Chamber floor.” Commonwealth law states that once a proposal is made and the debate on it has begun, the proposal cannot be withdrawn. The debate must be allowed to continue and a vote taken. The law was created to ensure that all matters brought to the debate floor would be carefully considered. “As soon as you do that, you set in motion the events that Symon and Dr. Barnes have orchestrated. They want your vote to fail and the rebels to attack. The minute that happens, Dr. Barnes's supporters will move against them. They will remove both the threat to The Testing and you from office with this one fight.”

“And look heroic doing it.” President Collindar's words are barely a whisper. So faint that I question whether I have heard her correctly. Heroic is the last thing I would call Dr. Barnes's plan for eliminating those who oppose him.

But now that I think about it, I realize President Collindar has seen what I did not. Out of necessity, the rebels have been operating in secret. Their cause is unknown to Tosu citizens save for a few who may have recently been imposed upon to take up arms. And even if it were revealed, most citizens do not know someone who was chosen for The Testing. A fraction are related to those who sat in University classrooms and became the country's leaders without undergoing The Testing or experiencing Redirection. Very few would celebrate a rebellion that would likely shed innocent blood for a purpose they do not personally understand. If Dr. Barnes and Symon's plan is successful, the rebels will be killed almost immediately after the violence begins. Without the rebels to speak for their own cause, Dr. Barnes can paint their purpose as one designed to take down the United Commonwealth Government and destroy the country's revitalization mission. His supporters will claim him as a hero. History has ever rewarded the victors.

President Collindar rises and stands in front of the fireplace. “Symon is working with Jedidiah.” Her voice is quiet. Controlled. Yet I hear the thin veil of tension that coats her words. “Setting up a rebellion against himself is smart. It allows him to control both those who follow and those who oppose him. Jedidiah's strength has always been in strategy.”

“You believe me?” I ask. Amazement and a strange sense of peace flow through me. Not only have I passed this test, I have handed this problem to someone with the power to prevent a series of tragic events. Zeen and I can let her take care of it.