Page 3

Chapter one

Forest

T he sunrise brings on a mirage of bright colors that unfurl across my bedroom floor in varying hues of pink and orange. Despite the drawn curtains, each ray of sunlight blankets the room in all the right ways, as if it mocks the countless dull, gray tones encasing nearly every item in the space. I watch the rays dance over my dresser before landing on my soft white comforter. The sun's heat touches my face as the cool August air slips through a crack in my bedroom window I had created the night before. A perfectly ironed uniform lays peacefully unbothered on my dresser. Its black bottoms and white blouse only add to the bleakness of the space around me. Still, I silently thank my mother for always finding the time to lay out my school clothes the night before despite how tired I know she is from her night shift at New Haven Medical.

I stretch out, cracking my back as I rise to a seated position in my bed, and my hair slips into my mouth as the fog of sleep begins to leave my bloodshot eyes.

" Mandatory wakeup for Forest Blackburn, " my clock's annoyingly robotic voice says in a tone that jolts me awake entirely. Its screen flashes, waiting for me to confirm I have heard its message, as if I have the option to decline.

"I was already up, you asshole," I whisper, angrily hitting the green check, confirming I am up to anyone and everyone in this house. I see the other members of my family's icons all checked green. As usual, I am the only person in my family who has woken up at 6:00 am. Everyone else wakes up nearly an hour before we are regulated to do so.

"Negative statements against New Haven regulated home care aids is a low-level violation. Confirm this message has been received, " the clock says, urging me to let out a small groan of discomfort. I press my hands to my face, raising my middle fingers in the space around me. Hiding the vulgar gesture from the clock's camera, I flash it a wide smile.

"Confirmed," I say in the fakest tone possible. The clock's screen goes black as it finally decides to leave me alone.

My room is nothing special. It's a space filled with perfectly fitted furniture made of sleek aspen wood. Each wall is painted in a calm gray tone, the floor composed of birch wood boards, all sanded to perfection. Every nook and cranny of this room is within Sanctum regulations. Even the drawings I had once plastered on my wall are now crammed away in one of my many sketchbooks shoved under my bed. One look from one of my dad's co-workers, and they were torn away from the wall.

Gray paint streaks the front of my dresser and doors. Every article of clothing I own is neatly tucked away. I’ve got nothing but school clothes and a few leisure day outfits. It’s insufferable wearing the same things year-round. Sometimes I envy the Unfortunates’ tattered and patched clothes.

At least they get some variety.

I stare at the few bits of jewelry I have within regulation. Two pairs of earrings and one necklace are all I own, and even then they are only permitted for formal events. With a roll, I move away from my bed and closer to my dresser. The floorboards creak beneath my feet, shivers running down my spine. My hands fiddle with the uniform my mother laid out, dragging it closer toward me.

"I wonder what I'm wearing today," I whisper sarcastically, tossing the clothes on the bed.

The same black slacks and white blouse I wear daily sprawl before me. A gray tie, white socks, and a black belt all look as unappealing as the day before. I run my hands through my mess of hair, feeling it brush below my lower back. The brown curls stick together as a single gray hair pokes out in my vision. With a quick snap, I pull away the stray hair. My mother would have a fit if she knew my gray was already starting to show.

With a gentle toss, I pry away my sleepwear, letting it land in the nearby hamper. The air from my window caresses my body as I change, my eyes avoiding my hip entirely, ignoring the dreadful mark I always do my best to cover up. I feel the gnarled skin beneath my fingertips while I pull up my pants. The birthmark lingers on my skin, standing out in a way most Unfortunates do. Ugly and unnatural. My mom says it's best to ignore it’s there, and seeing as no one else seems to have one, I have always found it easy to keep my mouth shut about it.

Slowly, I pull over the white blouse and button it up to my neck, fiddling with the wire of my bra as I position my breasts in a comfortable spot. With three tucks, my shirt is in the waistband of the slacks, my hands yanking on the belt to give myself some shape in this outfit. I let the tie hang loose around my neck, hoping someone else would try and tackle it for me. With a large wooden brush, I mangle my hair, allowing myself to pull it back into a ponytail, keeping every stray hair away from my face.

In addition to the uniforms, hair and what we may do with it is one of the other regulations the New Foundations Academy implemented. No hairstyles other than a ponytail, bun, braid, or straight down our backs are allowed. No makeup or distracting facial enhancers are allowed anywhere near your face. Vanity derives from many things, as does lust in young men for something as simple as a pair of earrings. All potential distractions have been eradicated.

Sometimes, it's hard to imagine anyone wearing anything remotely distracting. In history class, our teachers tell us of the vanity that used to consume humans before the nuclear wars. They call it a poison that infiltrated the minds of many. Part of the coding behind our chips ensures that trivial things like vanity and jealousy are almost non-existent.

Running my hands over my jewelry before pressing my fingers to the small necklace around my throat, I feel its small silver charm rub between my fingers before tucking it beneath my shirt. I've never been caught wearing it, regardless of it being against regulation. At times, it feels like my good luck charm.

I take one final glance at my figure in the mirror above my dresser. The uniform clings to my thin body, and I notice how the supple curve of my breasts and legs fill the material just right. For a few years, nothing fit me well. It's all hazy, but, after a summer of puberty and plenty of supplements given to me by my mother, I finally started fitting into the clothes in ways I always wished I would. Max and Raegan barely recognized me when I met them for the tram that school year.

Moving toward my door, I nudge it open with a swing, gravitating closer to the bathroom between my brother's room and mine.

The light shines brightly within the bathroom, Kai is already in front of the sink, meticulously brushing his teeth. He’s making sure he doesn’t brush too little or too long on each tooth. His uniform is the same as my own. The only real difference between the uniforms of the men and women who attend New Foundation’s Academy is that women may wear skirts if it’s warm enough outside. His shirt lays smoothly on his chest. His tie folded to perfection.

He grunts once I try to move past him to grab my toothbrush, glancing down at me with a full mouth, letting out an irritated scoff. Still, I shove past him, gathering a small dollop of toothpaste on my brush. Unlike him, I could be more precise.

Vigorously, I brush my teeth in large strokes back and forth, Kai is beside me, spitting up his toothpaste before rinsing his mouth. I watch him as he dabs his lips with a towel, leaning his hip into the counter to observe me.

"Did you get dressed in the dark?" Kai questions with a smile. Giving him a playful nudge, I threaten to swipe him with my dirtied bristles.

"I decided to sleep in, unlike you," I say with a full mouth. Kai scrunches his nose, motioning me to spit. I oblige with a roll of my eyes.

His hands fiddle with my tie as I wipe my mouth. His fingers work quickly, managing to fold my tie even better than his own. His curly brown hair bounces with each movement, most of his body taking up the space around us. He towers over nearly every member of our family. My mom and dad are not sure how he got so tall. Genetically, Kaiden was bred to be no more than 6 feet. Now he towers at a large 6'2". Sometimes I question if he even knows how to use his long legs. Each step he takes is like a baby gazelle walking for the first time.

His brown-green eyes land on my green ones as he finally finishes sorting me out.

"I heard your clock tell you off this morning," Kai begins, moving away from the bathroom, hitting the light switch. Trailing behind his slim figure, I let his long strides devour my short ones.

"What's new?" I question with a scoff.

"You know they keep track of that, right? Enough low-level violations and you have to talk to an Official before doing some community time," Kai says.

I almost feel satisfied knowing they'd dress me in something other than this insufferable uniform for community time.

"Who's doing community time?" my mother's gentle voice questions as we finally turn the corner into the kitchen. She wears dark blue scrubs.

Blue is the customary color for all of those in the health field.

The table is filled with our regulated breakfast portions. Each meal resides in a small glass container, delivered by Unfortunates every morning like clockwork. The steam hits the top of the glass container in white swirls. Kai tosses himself into his seat, promptly pouring a massive mug of black coffee. My father flashes me a smile before returning to the silent sips of his mug. He speaks on his phone, droning on about some Unfortunate affairs he is tackling this week. I hear his frustrations rise as he leans against the wall. His eyes trail out the window in the kitchen, his chair at the head of the table pushed away from its usual spot. The call must have been sudden for him to speak during breakfast like this.

"No one is doing community time," I say after a moment. Sliding in next to Kai, I pull away the top from my breakfast portion. Eggs and bacon again.

"Unless your name is Forest and you tell off your clock for doing its job every morning," Kai says. His fork poking his eggs, my mother's eyebrows rising.

"Forest, I asked you to stop doing that," my mother says with some frustration.

I narrow my eyes at my brother while reaching for the coffee pot. He slides it away from my grasp with one motion.

"I want some too."

"Mom and Dad haven't gotten seconds yet. Plus, you get jittery every time you drink it, and, frankly, I don't feel like dealing with that today," Kai says.

"Forest," my mother's voice says once more. "I need you to promise you will stop being so careless with your actions. Violations are not something to take lightly," my mom finishes.

My dad slowly lowers his phone.

"I understand," I start, trying to reach for Kai's mug of coffee. His hand swats me away, my dad finally taking a seat at the table.

"The only people who should worry about the violations are Unfortunates. Even a high-level violation for us is nothing but a slap on the wrist and some grief from an Official," my dad says with a smile.

Unfortunates.

The people who have been placed on the lowest totem pole of this society. Here in the Untouchable sector of New Haven, we have a good thing. We continue to create advancements in this society that better the people. Unlike Unfortunates, we were born to do something more significant. We are more innovative, cleaner, and advanced in our thinking.

The Unfortunate sector lies on the other end of New Haven. Like most bottom feeders, they reside in a separate commune, not ever leaving the comforts of their hell hole. Some Unfortunates work in the primary strip market, while others run transportation or deliver food for the Untouchables. Unfortunates have been tasked to do the work our people cannot be asked to do. Farming, electrical, grunt military work, and all other undesirable tasks are left in the laps of Unfortunates. Once they are away from their sector, Unfortunates are only permitted to speak to Untouchables if they are in an academic or work setting. Speaking outside of regulation can result in immediate punishment by an Official or an Untouchable.

In most scenarios, Untouchables roughing up Unfortunates is far from uncommon. They were bred to do the work our people did not want to do. They live to serve. We live to survive. That's the only way this society functions. As far as anyone is concerned in this sector, they are hardly people. When our school implemented its hybrid program, welcoming a select few Unfortunates to be put in our academic setting to “further educate the bottom feeders," people were furious.

"You should listen to your mother, Forest," my dad continues, placing his phone face down as he speaks. "You don't want a list of violations on your scorecard when it is time for your Judgment Day," he finishes. Placing a piece of bacon in my mouth, I process his words.

In no way does New Haven's government-elected leaders deciding what career I am stuck with for the rest of my life sound appealing. The chips are supposed to gather the data they need to create a proper placement for each individual in New Haven. Judgment Day is something most people look forward to. Kai has had his outfit picked out for months and even convinced our parents to splurge on champagne for the event. I hardly make it through a school day without zoning out.

"What was your phone call about?" I question, my fork shovels a mound of eggs into my mouth. Kai gives me a disgusted scrunch of his nose.

"Forest, no work talks at the table."

"It's fine, Katiana," my dad says, shaking his head. "A few Unfortunates working the market have decided stealing from our people was appropriate. They took extra food rations and a few items worth some money that they planned to distribute in their sector. I had my men take care of them," my father says with great pride. I watch him take a long sip from his coffee. It's as if he’s washing down the words he just spoke with the dignity he must feel.

"Good for you, Dad," Kai says with a smile. I watch the men clink mugs as my mom's face stays abnormally stoic.

"One less Unfortunate, the better," I grin. My mom's eyes dart up to me as she narrows them. As quickly as it happened, it disappeared.

Something was hidden behind that look. Something is always hidden behind her small gestures. Whenever I pry her on it, she goes silent, unwilling to elaborate.

"I'm raising you both well!" my dad gleams with a large grin. My mother's voice is clear, her hand harshly lowering her mug to the birch table.

"Can we please not speak of Unfortunate affairs at this table? It makes me sick to hear," my mom says with a small grovel of emotion lining her tone. I sit back in my chair to look her over. It's hard to decipher whether or not Unfortunates or the conversation as a whole makes her feel so indifferent.

"Sympathy for Unfortunates is a medium-level violation, " the house's security system says calmly. My mother's cheeks flush. Her hands run through her hair. My dad frowns, her head shaking toward him with annoyance. Her chair quickly backs away from the table as she swipes her portion tray. I watch her move toward the kitchen. The house waits for her to confirm its message.

"Understood!" she says after a few moments of scrubbing her glass container in the sink.

I feel a hand touch my leg in a firm grasp. My father's eyes linger on my own, his head leaning in to whisper.

"Your mother works with Unfortunates and Untouchables. Her lines sometimes blur," my father whispers, watching me pull away with a look of confusion. "Do not look at her differently when she needs guidance away from her good nature toward them," my father says sternly.

My mom stares forward blankly into the running water of the sink. With a grab to my portion container, I move away from the table and closer to my mother. Her head turns as I drop my container in the sink. She wipes away what I can only assume is a tear, taking a deep breath. Her delicate hands and sharp brown eyes pull her face together. Her hand dips into her pocket, quickly pulling out a small white pill. She places it in my hand, casually looking at my brother and father behind me. The two men engage in deep banter about Unfortunate affairs. My dad's slightly gray-streaked black hair and facial stubble age him years beyond what he is. His green eyes are piercing in contrast to my own. With a press to my palm, she forces the medication into concealment.

"You're supposed to be grabbing this from the spot in your bedroom every morning. Don't forget," my mother whispers as I quickly take the pill. It falls down my throat with ease. Its coating is bitter, only diluting in taste once I take a quick drink of the running sink water.

Unlike Kai, I still struggle with significant flaws despite the perfection supposedly coded into most Untouchable children. Ever since I was little, I’ve had minor episodes in which I would be absent from my mind. It was as if I had stepped away from my line of vision, only to come to and have no idea where I had gone or how I had gotten back. These absent moments concerned my mom enough that she started investigating them as soon as she noticed. As far as I know, from what she has told me, I am not the only one who struggles with these episodes. Regardless, she hasn’t told my father, and the few times Kai has seen me take a pill, he often ignores it as if he can wipe the image from his mind. I know deep down my father has suspicions, but it's easier to have him believe what he wants rather than give him another thing to add to his list of reasons why he is disappointed in me.

A small, painful pluck from my head pulls me away from my train of thought. My mom drops my silver piece of hair in the sink, both of us watching it go down the drain with the flow of the water.

"You're supposed to tell me when it starts showing," my mom says softly, leaning into the sink.

For some reason, the women in our family have spouts of silver in their hair that never seem to go away. Regardless of age, our hair streaks with gray if not dyed. For as long as I can remember, my mom has always been able to hide her gray. On the other hand, I can never seem to go a month before it starts showing again.

"I forgot," I say through a lie. Kai's long arm wraps around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. His weight and backpack have no trouble dragging me away from the kitchen and my mother's wary eyes. I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulders.

The contrast in items that Kai and I carry to school is comically different. Kai’s bag is filled to the brim with science papers and history study guides that threaten to spill from the zipper of his backpack. My bag stays close to my side with nothing but my sketchbook and a vial of my mother's Cure-All. You never know when you might need to heal a wound, or so that's my mother's mentality.

I tuck my student ID into my pocket as Kai continues pulling my shirt toward the front door.

"I can get a head start without you," I groan. Kai's wide grin consumes his face before he speaks.

"Right, and that's why we are almost always late to the tram," Kai says with a certain superiority that I know he thinks he has.

I wave at my parents, watching my dad make his way over to my mother. Her head leans into his chest as he holds her. I watch his thumbs gently run up and down her side, something inside me focusing on the touch. Her face grows red, her mouth curling into a smile as he presses his lips to her forehead. I feel pain at the sight of the sweet, tender touches. My chest feels heavy, and a feeling of absence weighs down on me.

Kai taps our icons on the panel of the front door's security system, indicating both he and I are off and on our way to New Foundation’s Academy. With a shake of my head, I look away from my parents, shoving down that sudden feeling of hurt inside me. A small ping of pain shoots up my side, my mouth hissing back a groan.

Kai snaps his head at me as he shuts the door. I press my hand to my hip, letting my fingertips feel the warm skin beneath my touch.

"What's wrong?" he questions worriedly.

"Nothing," I lie.

But something was wrong.

My birthmark burns beneath my touch. The skin feels like it was scorched with a hot branding prod. The pain is sudden and unexpected.

"What the hell?" I whisper under my breath.

It leaves as quickly as it comes, taking all my worries along with it. I let go of my teeth's grasp on my lip as we move forward. I hear our feet scuff the ground, feeling relief as we descend from the house toward our tram to the Academy.