Truant: Chapter One, Part 1 (Revised)

As soon as I open my eyes, one thing comes to mind: carpe diem. Or, "seize the day". It is strange how the human brain works. It is peculiar how we change our mind so much.

The sun streams in through the slits in our curtains, the dim light still blinding me. Pushing past the grogginess, my thoughts soon group together and I remember how I will be catching the bus to go to school. Yes, the ground bus, seeing as I can't afford to go on the hover bus.

Pulling myself up, I throw back the covers and step onto the cold, wooden floor. I shiver. The floor is damp from the gaping hole in the roof, but I have become accustomed to the dankness. Ignoring my urges to clamber back into bed, I stumble over to the curtains and draw them back. The sunlight streams in, hitting Xenia's face. She lays peacefully upright, arms placed across her chest, resembling a sleeping princess.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slowly remove the covers from her. I lean over and whisper, "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

Her hand carelessly wafts me away, and then she rolls over. Her face pressed into the pillow, she fumbles for the covers. I notice the cold has formed goose bumps on the fair skin and the hair on her arms is rising up.

"Leave me alone, Raelyn," mutters Xenia, pulling the covers over her head.

"You need to get up," I urge, ripping the covers from off of her. I am ready for her reaction, my muscles prepared to leap back. My assumption is correct. Running towards the door, Xenia grabs a deflated cushion and launches it at me. But I shoot through my exit, the white weapon missing me by inches.

Racing down the stairs, I dodge the gaps in the wood and a group of rats are sent scurrying off to their homes in the plasterboard, screaming in alarm. I take a sharp left and bound into the room, diminishing the silence as the door slams against the wall. Mother sits at our oval shaped table, breathing in the warm steam that evaporates from her cup. She doesn't even flinch as I clatter about in the open kitchen which is connected to the dining room.

A sleepy Xenia trails into the room, eyes bleary and her hair representing a lion's. She manages to navigate around the furniture and takes a seat next to Mother. The two are easily known for their similar looks. Even though Xenia's hair is more blonde, Mother still has that golden tint to it. Both have those irritatingly cute pixie noses and big-lipped smiles. Unlike me.

Xenia catches me staring at smirks. She turns to Mother and says, "Ma, can I ask you a question?"

Mother gives her that sickeningly sweet smile and replies, "Of course."

"Does Raelyn remind you of... a certain type of person?"

"Um... I don't know, dear."

Rolling my eyes, I stuff some bread into my mouth. Xenia has currently been learning about the wild stories that people believed back in the old days, and one of them was about witches. Ever since, she won't stop the same silly joke. The same silly joke about me.

Xenia, who is trying not to laugh, caries on, "Who has black hair and green eyes-"

"Hurry up, Xenia," I interrupt. "We need to go soon." She scowls at me, obviously annoyed that her fun has been taken away from her and gets up to get some cereal.

Soon we are sitting in silence, eating our breakfast, listening to Mother occasionally sip at her tea. She says that it is the only appropriate to drink to have. Unlike Snob's drink. Fascinated, I once bought a bottle from one of the boys at school. The taste burst into flames, dancing on my taste buds. Xenia told Mother about my sudden experimental outburst and she deducted my credits for a month. I never forgot how it tasted.

"l don't feel so good," I told them, my voice full of hope. I wanted the day off. Badly. But both of them glance at one another, as if they were expecting the other to speak up first. I add, "I've got a terrible headache."

"Go get a drink then," says Xenia, sluggishly. "Maybe you're thirsty."

Exhaling, I scrape my chair back. My Mother and sister both squint, cringing at the noise by the wood on wood contact. After tucking my chair in, I rummage through the cobwebbed cupboards for a glass, switching the tap on after I found one. Sliding my glass under the running water, I look over my shoulder and Xenia's eyes meet mine. Flashing her a quick smile, I turn away.

"You should go get ready," I tell Xenia after finishing off my water. "We need to be at the bus stop nice and early so we don't miss it."

She nods and then leans over, planting a kiss on Mother's cheek, wrapping her arms around her neck. Wincing a little at their touch, my eyes stinging as they hug. Those few seconds are almost unbearable. I miss having a hug, especially from Father. Tears well up and run over the rims of my eyes. Wiping it quickly away, I try to stop thinking about him.

"Xenia," I say rigidly, "go get ready. Now."

Jealous rips me apart, I can feel my eyebrows furrowing together, scowling. My sister, oblivious to my feelings, gets up and knocks her shoulder into mine as she walks on by. She doesn't know how much it hurts. And I'm not talking about her bumping into me.

Mother throws me a vexed look, as if I was a Snob's pet that had just dug up the garden, and says, "She's your sister. She's not like you. She's her own person." I roll my eyes and twiddle with a strand of black hair, bored of listening to this repetitive speech. I'm sure she's rehearsed it. She suddenly sighs and tells me, "Go get ready."

Scurrying off, I am thankful she's let me off so soon. Climbing the stairs, I hear my sister humming to herself, one of the things she does when she is daydreaming. Daydreaming of a life as a Snob. Probably wanting the highest house and the fanciest car. I can almost sense her craving that feeling Snobs get when they look down on Brokies like us.

She is so swept up in her fantasy that she doesn't even notice me coming in and getting changed. Brushing her hair, gazing at herself through the cracked mirror, I snap, "Stop staring! You'll begin to fancy yourself." At that, she folds her arms sulkily and glares at me. "Are you ready?"

"Of course," she answers bluntly. "Are you?" I stare at her, trying to refrain from ragging her blonde curls out. I nod.

We leave our room and trudge down the stairs, treading carefully. Xenia sucks in her breath as a rat crosses her path, unnerved. I suppress a giggle. Who could be scared of a flea ridden, ball of fur? She scowls at me.

Xenia goes into the kitchen, and I can see through the half open door that they are embracing. A slash of anger cuts through me, but I fight it and open the front door. She soon walks out of the room and waves at Mother before skipping out of the door.

Mother smiles thinly. "Bye, Raelyn."

It is not as easy for me to smile back. I used to smile at her. And hold her hand on the way to the bus stop. She used to read me a bed time story. But she let him go. He abandoned us and she didn't stop him.

I purse my lips together before leaving Mother by herself. I shut the door behind me. Xenia is standing beside me, clutching the handle of her bag. She knows I haven't said bye to Mother. Staring blankly at her, she looks away. She doesn't understand.

Falling into the usual routine. we walk to the bus Stop in silence, trudging alone the asphalt. Looking up, I see hundreds of hover cars up ahead, disgusted. Their engines blare and the drivers honk their horns loudly, caught up in the madness of traffic. Xenia stares up at them too, but mesmerized. I have never thought they were any good — even when me and my friend stole one. Shaking my head, I tried not to think of my Truancy days.

Soon reaching the bus stop, we stand beside the metal pole with a cardboard sign stuck to it saying "bus stop". What happened to the original sign, no one knows. There are a few people dotted about, also waiting for the wretched bus.

Xenia slips her hands into her pockets, humming softly. There is no point making conversation with her. It usually ends with the first few sentences.

I stare off into the distance, seeing some Normies' homes floating lazily in the sky. Even farther afield, I can see high up some large squares a drift in the pale morning sky, the orange tainted sun glistening behind them. Snobs' houses. Even from here their houses look like flying castles, largely built and roomy. Unlike our ground-based homes. I suddenly begin to feel the sting of segregation between our classes. Seeing as I'm class C, a Brokey, I feel the bitterness more than they do. While Class A, Snobs, live full and appealing lives and Class B, Normies, live satisfying lives, Brokies live like sewer rats. Scrounging on the waste of the world.

Sniffling a little, I notice a boy is standing beside me, whistling an upbeat tune. What is he so happy about? Suddenly, he leans on the post, only a foot away from me. He has long, golden brown hair and ocean blue eyes that casually look at me. I immediately turn away, realizing I had been staring.

Rubbing the nape of my neck, my attention is turned to the homework that I left on the bed side table. Turning to Xenia, I gasp, "Oh no! I forgot my homework." Panic sets in and I frantically begin to consider rushing home.

"Don't even think about it," hisses Xenia, anger spreading across her face. "Don't you dare think about skipping school!"

I almost choke on her words, shocked. Truancy? She has completely got the wrong idea. I shoot her a fierce look, the alternative of telling her to shut up. No one who is is the right mind would talk about Truancy in public. The consequences are fatal.

"Don't ever, ever say that again!" I hiss, hoping no one heard.

Hearing the chugging noise of the bus, I grab Xenia's arm and step forward. She wriggles out of my grasp, growling irritably. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy as he glances at me. Why does he keep doing that?

As I go to get onto the bus, someone stands on my shoelace and I stumble forward. Xenia is already clambering onto the bus and paying as I crouch down to tie it back up. The boy is standing beside me, looking apologetic.

Trying to fasten it quickly, I hear him say, "I'm really sorry."

"Um, it's okay," I mutter as I unsuccessfully try to re-tie my lace even though I do not know how.

Leaning over, he takes them and says, "Here." Fumbling with the lace, he double knots them. I thank him meekly and then turn to the bus. "I heard what you were talking about."

Spinning around, I stare at him and say, "What?"

He steps forward and whispers, "About being Truant."

A shiver crawls down my spine and I clutch myself tightly. That one word can kill you. It doesn't mean avoiding school or work. That word means death.

"I have to go," I reply stiffly, and step onto the bus. As I slip my finger onto the scanner to pay, I turn to look at him one last time. He suddenly looks familiar.

"See you soon," he says as the bus' doors close.

***