The Woodlands

The blonde girl looked down her nose at me, opened her mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. Things were not going to be different for me here. I was still viewed as the troublemaker, someone you didn’t want to be seen standing next to, let alone be seen speaking to. They left, chattering about allocations and what they were hoping for.

I stared at myself in the mirror, my odd eyes staring back at me. My hair was a mess from the helicopter and the physical tests. I brushed it out and left it down. I looked tired, but then so did everyone else. The clock in the bathroom said 17:55. I quickly ran upstairs, threw my bag on my bed, and flew out the door. The dining hall was back in the main circle. So I waited for the train to speed me back.

When I arrived at the dining hall, everyone was already seated. They all stared at me as I looked for somewhere to sit. I searched for Joseph. He was sitting in the back with a group of older boys, laughing and joking. Of course, he had already made friends. I tried to make eye contact but he wouldn’t look my way, although I’m sure he saw me—everyone saw me. I sat down at the end of one of the long, wooden tables next to another group of boys, avoiding the sour girls I had met in the bathroom. The boys smiled and shuffled down to make room for me. They introduced themselves. There was a tall boy with light brown hair called Serge. He was goofy looking, like his arms and legs were too long for his body. Across from me was a handsome boy with dark hair and dark skin named Rasheed. He was younger, like me.

“Wow, amazing eyes!” he said. I glared at him but he just smiled back at me. “Whoa, guess the eyes are a touchy subject then.” Usually talking to me like this would make me want to slap the person, but he had such a charming ma

“Wow,” I said in mock admiration, “amazing big nose!” Serge was laughing, a little too much. Rasheed just gri

“I like her,” he said, elbowing a boy next to him, who ignored him and continued to push his peas around his plate.

We talked all through di

After di

We were roused at 06:00 for showers and then straight to breakfast. Krepke and Baron were at the entrance to the bathroom, shouting at us to hurry up. I saw Baron strike a girl on the back while she was still in a towel, a red welt appearing across the girl’s still wet skin. I was always good at getting ready fast, so for once, I was first in line.

Breakfast was a help-yourself kind of deal, with big metal dishes full of steaming food. Food I had never even seen before. I piled a little of everything on my plate. I wanted to try as much as possible. As I went to sit down, I could see Joseph sitting at the end of the table again. He looked up at me and smiled, sadly. I took a step towards him but he shook his head. His behavior was infuriating. I wanted to go and confront him but I heard ‘Hey amazing eyes, over here’. Rasheed and Serge were motioning for me to sit with them and I figured, well, at least they wanted to talk to me, so I turned away from him and towards my new friends.

“You should be quiet, Rasheed, you’ll get us in trouble,” I winked.

“Call me Rash, and I think trouble’s more fun!” He winked back, eyeing my piled-high plate with amusement.

I dug in and, to my disappointment, found that everything tasted the same. The red meat tasted the same as the noodles with soup, which tasted the same as the orange fruit. I stared at my plate, confused.

Serge spoke, “It’s synthetic, made to look like food from home but tastes like grey sludge. It has all the nutrition we require. I think it’s supposed to stop us from feeling homesick if it at least resembles something from home.” We rolled our eyes in unison. I was grateful that di

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Rash said with a wicked grin, brandishing his spoon like a weapon. I was sure I shouldn’t be associating with this boy but I couldn’t help myself. He was like me; I’d never met anyone like me.

When breakfast was over, we were told to report to our town room for allocations and the Letter. I had forgotten about the Letter. Once we received our Class allocation, we would be given one hour to write a letter to our parents, informing them of what we would be doing and to say farewell. I wondered what they would do for Ana’s parents. It had to be on our own paper and with our own pens so that the parents would know it was from us. The Superiors treated us like we were ignorant peasants. If they wanted to fake a letter, they could, easily. They thought of these inane ways to placate the people when all they really needed to do was maintain the fear. And they certainly did that.

Rasheed grabbed my hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Good luck, see you at di

I followed Joseph and the others down the hall to a door with the Pau Brazil tree stenciled on the front. Upon entering I could see my place, with the five pens on the table that mother had found and our family letterhead stamped on the top of the paper. There was an envelope on the table that I knew contained my whole future. My allocation. Everyone took their places and started opening their envelopes hungrily. There were sighs of relief, looks of confusion and sheer devastation. I opened mine. It read ‘Rosa Bianca has been allocated the Class of Construction’. Confused didn’t even begin to cover how I was feeling. It was like getting sucked down a drain hole, gripping the edge for a moment before it pulled you down a waterslide. Joseph turned around to face me. I mouthed the words, ‘construction’. He mouthed the words ‘medical’. We both looked confounded by what we had read. Though Joseph was far better off than me—I was headed for a life in the Lowers.

We were barely given time to process this new information before we were told we had one hour to write our family letters. Everyone started writing frantically. I just sat there and stared at my page. What could I say? This would be a disappointment to Paulo or maybe a triumph. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I had failed. My mother would be destroyed by it. I wanted to write something personal, tell my mother I missed or loved her, but nothing came, my hand was still but for the pen pecking dots on the paper. Joseph was scribbling away at a frenetic pace. In fact, so was everyone else. What was wrong with me? With about fifteen minutes to go, my hand selected a pen and wrote:

To Lenos Bianca,

I hope you are happy now.

Sincerely, your daughter,

Rosa Bianca

P.S. Thanks for the eyes.

I folded it up carefully, slowly, drawing out the last few remaining minutes. I put it in the envelope and wrote his name on the front. Then I just sat there and waited for them to call time.