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I count four men and two women dressed in black and standing near the stairs on either side of the raised platform. The wide white band on each of their right arms identifies them as Safety officials. The weapons at their sides and the respect our country’s citizens have for the work done here have ensured that no unauthorized person has set foot on the Debate Chamber floor for decades.
Since I can’t walk onto the floor without risking detainment, I have to find another way.
“Cia,” Will hisses, “we have to wait outside until the session ends.”
Damone, Enzo, and Will take a step backward, but I stay put. This session will last a half hour more. Then the room will be locked until morning. Damone might be able to convince one of his father’s friends to open the doors and let us search, but there is a chance that the president has to be seated on the platform for us to complete the task. Waiting will not help us. There has to
be a second option. But what?
Ignoring the stares from officials on the debate floor and the insistent whispers from my teammates, I glance around the room for a solution. My mother always told me the best way to solve a problem is to ask for help. But while that worked the first time, I doubt the woman in the lobby will be able to assist me in this next step even if she knows what it is. The officials on the debate floor might be able to provide an answer, but unless I want to yell across the massive room, I—
Wait.
I close my eyes and think back to my Five Lakes classroom. Sitting in my seat behind Tomas. Listening to our teacher as she discussed the creation of this room. The founding government officials chose this space to house the Debate Chamber because they wanted a room large enough to house not only the governing body but those citizens who wanted to voice their concerns. In the early years of the Commonwealth, the debate floor was filled with people who wanted a voice in the reconstruction of our country. During the last several decades, no ordinary citizen has stepped onto the Debate Chamber floor. They’ve been too busy with their own lives to take responsibility for the government and the country. But just because no one in recent years has chosen to use that privilege doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist. At the end of that lesson, my teacher mentioned an antiquated law that said any citizen may request a hearing on the Debate Chamber floor. We were never tested on that law or the wording required to gain access to the Chamber. At the time I was relieved. Not anymore.
It takes me several minutes to locate the thin, dark cord that hangs far to the left of the entryway in a dimly lit alcove. The cord is coated with dust, but when I tug, the gong of the hearing bell echoes through the room. One by one, the people on the floor shift their attention from the speaker to me. The man’s words falter. The Safety officials’ hands move to the weapons holstered at their sides, but they do not draw. Not yet. I can hear the surprise in the hushed whispers from the gallery above.
Part of me wants to withdraw. To avoid such attention. But the law states any citizen who rings the bell and follows protocol will be invited onto the chamber floor. While I am young and unimportant to the working of the Commonwealth, I am a citizen. The law gives me this right.
Only those who use the proper phrase are given leave to enter the chamber. One wrong word and the petitioner will be denied for her lack of respect for the process and those she seeks to address. I take three steps forward, swallow my nerves, and say the words my classmates and I were taught years ago. “As every citizen has not only the right but the responsibility to participate in the due course of this government, I respectfully ask permission to address the moderating justice and the official currently holding the Debate Chamber floor.”
Everything is quiet. The entire chamber is holding its breath. Watching. Wondering if I have spoken correctly. If I will be granted permission to take the floor. Time stands still as the president rises from her seat and studies me from across the hall.
“Permission is granted.” She nods. “You may approach.”
Relief floods through me. I hold my head high and keep my eyes forward as I walk to the stairs of the raised platform. Four steps up, and I cross the stage and come to a halt four feet from the leader of the United Commonwealth.
Several heartbeats pass as we look at each other. Me with my untidy hair and rumpled, dirt-stained clothes standing on the wooden platform. The president standing in front of a large, black wooden chair, with her short, perfectly styled ebony hair and a ceremonial red robe.
Then she smiles. “What can the United Commonwealth Government do for you, citizen?”
The president stands seven inches taller than I. Her face is long and angular. Not what most would call beautiful. But the almond-shaped brown eyes and strong jaw would draw attention anywhere. Almost all the United Commonwealth presidents have been female. It has been argued that women are less aggressive, more maternal, and thus more focused on the well-being of the country’s people. Less focused on politics or power. Perhaps this is true, but there is nothing maternal about President Collindar’s appearance or voice. Both carry a shimmer of absolute authority.
Taking a deep breath, I shift a few steps to the side so I can clearly see the back of the chair. And I smile. Dangling from a wire on the back of the chair is a picture of the balanced scales of justice. I swallow my nerves, smooth my sweaty palms on my pants, and say, “I apologize for the interruption, President Collindar, but I believe you have a message for me.”
The president’s eyes shift to the balcony and then back to me.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The smile spreads as she reaches into the pocket of her robe and pulls out a familiar-looking gray envelope. “I wish you luck in the rest of your studies, Ms . . . ?”
“Vale. Malencia Vale.”
“Where are you from, Ms. Vale?”
“Five Lakes Colony, Madam President.”
Surprise lights her eyes, but President Collindar’s pleasant smile doesn’t change as she holds out the envelope. “I’m certain we’ll meet again, Malencia. Have a safe journey back to school.”
I take the envelope and she sits back down in her chair. I’ve been dismissed. I turn and glance up at the balcony as I make my way to the stairs. A dozen people are scattered in the gallery seats. Among them are two familiar faces. A tightlipped Professor Holt, watching my every move, and Dr. Barnes, whose gaze is affixed on the only person behind me—President Collindar. I can’t help but wonder if Professor Holt and Dr. Barnes will judge my actions to be the correct ones. While the envelope in my hand was the goal, I know from The Testing that the right answer doesn’t always ensure a passing grade. Coming in first during this Induction doesn’t mean we will be assigned the most important internships. It’s the skills and leadership we demonstrate during these tasks that will make that determination.
Hoping that I have shown whatever qualities Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt are looking for in their top government interns, I walk up the aisle to where my team stands holding open the double doors. Their expressions range from celebratory to sullen as I walk past them into the antechamber. I see the blonde seated behind the glass window smile at the envelope in my hand. I smile back and, when the double doors close with a soft thunk, I let out a relieved sigh.
“I can’t believe you got the words to that petition right.” Will laughs and shakes his head. “I would have blown it.”
“Then the administrators made a mistake letting you into the University,” says Damone. “Anyone who truly belongs in Government Studies can recite that request. It’s not like she did anything special.”
Will gives Damone a tense smile. “I dare you to walk into the Debate Chamber and request your own audience. I bet anything you’ll prove you don’t belong.”
Before the two can start shoving again, I say, “Instead of arguing about the last task, how about we concentrate on the next one? It’s getting late. I’d rather not have to finish this Induction in the dark.”
