The Woodlands

I tried to get out before she saw me, edging along the faded carpet, the door just in my sights, but a hand grabbed the back of my shirt and gently halted my stride. I thought maybe she knew, but her face only showed the same exhausted apathy it always did.

“Rosa, please eat something before you go.” My mother sighed, her hand falling to her side. She looked tired, ill, a hazy shade of green sitting just beneath a layer of dark brown skin like she was being diluted. I rolled my eyes at her.

“You don’t need to whisper, Mother. I’m sure Paulo approves of you feeding me. It’s the rules, remember?”

She nodded, her hand trembling a little as she put the kettle on and started the ridiculously particular process of making tea for her husband so it was just right.

I listened for sounds of Paulo and heard the shower ru

I turned around and saw my stepfather’s expression as the door rebounded open from me slamming it too hard. His dark face was a wrinkled mask of pure wrath. Good.

Satisfied, I walked to school following the curve of Ring Two until I reached the first gate. It was chilly and I cursed myself for not bringing a jacket. I sought out a su

I sca

I peered through the iron bars to see the older kids hanging around outside one of the classrooms, their backs against the grey-green rendered walls. This would have to be their last day. The five students exuded the stagnant combination of nervousness and hope—prisoners about to receive parole. I snorted to myself. There was no hope, just change. They were going off to the Classes in a few weeks’ time.

I arrived at the school gate and sca

The girl standing next to him bumped his shoulder affectionately, her red-brown ponytail swinging and brushing his arm lightly. He flinched and pulled away like it bit him. “Maybe we’ll get in together. Wouldn’t it be great to be allocated the same Class?”

The boy shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter, we’ll be separated anyway, you know that.”

Smart, I thought, the girl needed to be shot down now. There was no future for anyone from the same town. The great claw of the Superiors would make sure of that. I imagined it like a sorting machine, kind of like what Paulo did, but instead of apples, the Superiors sorted races and Classes. These kids were going to be plucked from Pau Brazil, thrown into the Classes, and separated out into Uppers, Middles, and Lowers. The boy was right, at the end of training at the Classes, they would certainly be separated. Kids from the same town were not allowed to marry.

As I rounded the corner and made my way into my first lesson, I snatched a glimpse of the hopeful girl’s face. It offended me. Her eyes were wide and brimming with moisture. I had little sympathy. This was the way things were. She needed to accept it. And really, she was lucky. I envied her. At least she was getting out of here soon.

First class. The teacher stood in front of us and asked us the same five questions she asked us every day. Pacing back and forth in her sensible shoes and friction-causing nylon stockings, she nodded as the class answered in unison. I scrunched up my nose; a woman that large shouldn’t pipe herself into stockings that tight. The way her thighs were rubbing together, I thought she might spontaneously combust.

A while ago, I started formulating my own answers in my head. Different every time to beat the monotony. Today I went with a root vegetable theme.

“Who are we?” she barked in a low, almost manly voice.

“Citizens of the Woodlands,” a chorus of bored teenagers replied.

I mouthed the words, ‘Various vegetative states of potatoes’.

“What do we see?”

“All kind,” we sung out loudly. The meaning lost on some but other eyes burned fiercely with belief. As a potato, I thought, and having no eyes. I am not qualified to answer that question.

“What don’t we see?”

“Own kind,” we said finitely.

I muttered under my breath, “Everything, geez, I’m a potato.” I laughed to myself just at the wrong time, when the whole class was silent. The teacher gave me a sharp look, her black, olive-pit eyes narrowed.

“Our parents are?” she snapped, whipping her head to the front.

“Caretakers.”

“Our allegiance is to?”

“The Superiors. We defer to their judgment. Our war was our fault. The Superiors will correct our faults.” Our faults being that we had not yet developed into the super race that was to prevent all future wars.

I looked around the classroom. Most were dark ski

I peered down at my ski

My father used to say, ‘You can’t help who you fall for,’ but then he also said he thought the Superiors were about to change everything and start forcing us to mate with someone of their choosing. That was eight years ago and nothing had happened yet. I massaged my temples, feeling a slicing headache coming on. I hated him popping up in my mind without prompting and besides, my father was wrong about a lot of things.