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I turn on the lights, walk to the bath, and use the water to wash the terror from my face and mouth. Through the bedroom window, I can see dawn has yet to break. Hours yet before I start the next phase of my studies. I climb back into bed, hoping to find much-needed rest. Finally, I do.
The sound of doors slamming pulls me out of sleep. Raised voices are filled with excitement. Everyone is up and ready to relocate to the new residences. If I want people to continue to believe I am enthusiastic about being here, I need to get ready too.
I have just finished dressing when I hear a knock on my door. I open it expecting to find Tomas and instead come face-to-face with a tall, imposing woman with a cap of orange hair that matches the frames of her glasses.
“Malencia Vale?” When I nod, she smiles. “I’m Professor Verna Holt. The head professor of Government Studies.”
While her voice is warm, it feels calculated. Practiced. The tone my mother uses when she trades with arrogant Mrs. Pitzler for wool yarn. Professor Holt’s dark, almond-shaped eyes don’t blink as she looks down at me. Had I not talked to Michal, I might have shown surprise. Most likely, I would have assumed I’d missed a meeting time and offered my apologies. Instead, I hear Michal saying I will be tested. As a colony student, I’m expected to be weak. I vow to show Professor Holt and her team that I am strong.
Straightening my shoulders, I give my most confident smile. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m looking forward to moving into the Government Studies residence later today.”
Professor Holt’s eyebrows rise. “If you are packed and ready, I’ll walk you outside, where a final-year student is waiting to show you to your new home.”
I glance at the clock. It’s two hours before the ti
me we were instructed to be ready. Good thing I’m prepared to leave now. I sling two bags containing my clothes, personal possessions, and books over my shoulder and exit through the door without a backward glance.
The sky is overcast. Outside, a male student with close-cropped brown hair and an intense expression is waiting alongside two of my fellow first years, Will and the dark-haired Rawson. I take a step back when Will turns toward me. I know he’s a murderer. Has Rawson also killed? My recorder never mentions him, but so much of what happened is missing. Should I believe that every candidate is capable of taking a life?
“This is Ian,” Professor Holt says. “He will see you to the Government Studies residence. I trust you will be comfortable there.” With a curt nod, she turns on her heel and strides away.
We all look at Ian. In his fitted black pants, shiny black boots, and deep purple shirt, Ian is more than a little imposing. Until he grins. The sternness disappears, replaced by an exuberance that makes me think of my brother Win. In a rich baritone voice, he says, “Congratulations on being selected for Government Studies. Not only are we the smartest students on campus, our house is the largest, which means we all get our own room.”
I see Tomas come out of the building as Ian asks us to follow him. Tomas turns toward us. While I want to run to him and tell him where I’m going and what possibly lies ahead for both of us, I see Ian watching me. Waiting.
Over the years, my father complained several times that University graduates rarely had friends outside their designated fields of study. Part of me always thought he was exaggerating, since none of the graduates in Five Lakes behaved in that manner. But the way Ian’s gaze shifts from me to Tomas makes me pause. If my father is correct, the students in my field of study might not appreciate my relationship with someone outside our career path.
Tomas comes closer. His eyes are bright. Happy. Seeing him warms my heart, but I do not return his grin with one of my own. Instead, I give a tiny shake of my head. I hope he sees the apology, love, and warning in my expression before I turn and walk away.
Ian glances up at the rumbling sky as he leads us across campus. “If we hurry, we should make it to the residence before the rain starts. The one downside to being part of Government Studies is the distance you have to walk to class. Professor Holt says exercise moves the blood in the brain, which helps us think.” Ian laughs. “I’d be more impressed by that reasoning if Professor Holt didn’t use a skimmer to get around campus.”
We laugh. After a moment, Ian asks, “So, did any of you actually want to be chosen for Government Studies?”
Will looks down at the stone walkway. Rawson’s cheeks tinge red. It’s clear none of us want to be taking this walk today. Ian must know that.
Since I have not made any attempt to hide my desired course of study, I confess, “I wanted Mechanical Engineering. Government was the last choice on my list.”
“Cia.” Will nudges me with his elbow. I probably should stay quiet, but instead I smile at Ian and ask, “Was Government Studies your first choice?”
Ian frowns. My shoulders tense until I notice the corners of Ian’s mouth twitch. Finally, he laughs. “I wanted Education and was pretty steamed when they stuck me here. It didn’t take me long to realize very few students who want to be placed in Government Studies actually are.”
“Why is that?” I ask.
Ian stops. “Because sometimes the best leaders are the ones who have no interest in leading. Those are often the ones who are most interested in doing what is right, not what is popular.” He gives an embarrassed shrug and starts walking again. “Sorry about the lecture. The last thing I want to do is sound like one of the professors. But in this case, I think they’re right.”
Ian falls silent. For the next several minutes, thunder is the only accompaniment to our journey. It isn’t until we pass the History building that I realize we are going into a section of campus I have only walked through once, during the University tour after passing The Testing. It’s a section less utilized because it was hit harder than the rest by the earthquakes that shook the country during the Sixth Stage of War.
Here trees are less abundant. The grass has been revitalized, but is a shade yellower. Ian leads us across a bridge that was erected after Tosu City was named. The bridge spans a gap over twenty feet wide and hundreds of feet deep. In the distance, I see a massive, three-story structure constructed of dark gray stone. Atop the structure is a clock tower. As we step off the bridge, I spot a small stone sign engraved with the words GOVERNMENT STUDIES.
“The clock tower is several hundred years old.” Ian’s voice breaks the silence. “The earthquake that caused the fissure we just passed tore apart several buildings, including the one with that tower. While most of the tower’s original building was reduced to rubble, the clock portion survived. When the founders of the University decided to construct the Government Studies residence, they had the architects include the tower as an homage to the past.”
I look at the tower with new appreciation, but can’t help wishing the builders had made the rest of the residence more hospitable. Aside from the lovely tower, the building is all hard lines and massive stone. Tall, narrow windows line the second and third floors. A large black door at the end of the building looks to be the only entrance or exit. A small sign next to the door says WELCOME, which is almost funny, since I feel anything but.
“Don’t worry,” Ian says. “It’s homier than it looks.”
“It would almost have to be.” I laugh as a drop of rain hits me.
The sky rumbles, and rain falls faster as we race for cover. Ian pushes open the heavy wooden door, waits until all of us step inside, and then closes it behind us. Lights blaze in the foyer, giving me a clear view of the framed portraits that line the room. The first president of the United States, George Washington. The last United States president, Nicholas Dalton. The five presidents that have served the United Commonwealth. A few others, whose faces I don’t recognize but whose names I’d probably know from my history lessons. People who ran our country. Did their best to change the world for the better.
