The Fourth World: Chapter Two

Chapter 2

“I’ll race you.”

Skylar’s grin shines, as if one of the sun’s rays managed to sneak out from the cloud’s covers and hid itself in his smile. He’s looking at my brother, who immediately smirks at his challenge and starts running towards the big white block at the end of the street. School. I frown in disgust. Boring from the outside, boring in the inside.

“Thanks for the head start!” Nolan yells, laughing behind him.

Skylar starts rushing after him yelling, “Hey! That’s not fair! I’m gonna get you little…” and I can’t help the curve forming on the edges of my lips because it’s ridiculous how Skylar can act like such a little kid. I know it’s not just because of Nolan, he’s always like this.

A drop of water slides down my slim nose and lands on my cheek. Another one and another one follow close behind it.

I hear Nolan’s and Sky’s shouts in the distance, “Come on, Ember! It’s raining!” and I find my legs moving much faster than before, getting into the building and avoid getting soaked in the rain. I catch up to the school just a couple of seconds after they did, and I hear pants and long breaths of air around me surrounded by everyone’s laughs.

“Riiiiiiiiing!”

The bell interrupts us all as we hustle to our classrooms.

***

Triangles, tiny circles, shapes I can’t even remember the names of. It’s uncontrollable. Ever since I was a little girl I found my hand drawing, more like scribbling, random things on the edges of pieces of paper, so close together and tiny that they almost looked like one compact shape once my hand had stopped. Even when I tried to stop myself, the temptation and almost longing for my hand to be on that pencil was too much. Like a magnet, my hand and the pencil always found a way to be stuck to each other until it was finally time to change poles and stop doodling.

“Ms. Bloom, maybe you’d like to tell the class the answer as you were so engrossed by my lesson.”

My history teacher, Mr. Sear, wakes me from my trance with his usual, fake smile, making me want to punch him more than smile back. I feel the bitterness in his voice, hanging on the word engrossed and wonder how it’s possible to be such an obnoxious person and yet still manage to look friendly and practically robotic with a smile.

Laughs start around me, quiet, trying to remain unnoticed without taking the attention from me. Pitiful or mocking glares around the room fix on my face as everyone waits for my response. Finally, I wake, hearing the whispers trying to help me open my mouth and give him an answer.

“Voracious!”

“Delicious!”

“Demetrious!”

“Aquarius!”

I can’t exactly make out anything of the helping murmurs slowly rising around me, and I settle for saying, “Hilarious.”

I have my head held high towards Mr. Sear, trying anything other than admitting my defeat.

But I fail.

Hysterical laughs cover the dullness of the room and I find myself looking around, not knowing what I’m looking for. Then my head stops, and I’m facing Skylar, his deep eyes are looking elsewhere other than the front of the class as they seem to be. He didn’t help me. He’s not part of the lesson. He’s not part of the present right now. Who knows where he is.

“Indeed, Ms. Bloom. You find the disease that has been killing your neighbours, friends and family, hilarious. Very interesting opinion, I must say. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Blood drains to my cheeks and I can feel them turning red. He has gone to the front now, his arms behind his back, acting like he’s the emperor and we’re his slaves. I’m not even sure anymore whether my classmates are laughing at my mistake or his ridiculous accent, saying highlarious instead of hilarious.I keep my expression solemn, trying to retain my dignity by not looking embarrassed or amused at his highlarious joke. Inside I smirk, I can also be sarcastic.

“I think what Ember was trying to say is that it’s hilarious how we are still being asked that in year 10, and I’m sure that if she’d been able to finish, she would have said Scorpius.” Veve smiles, her white teeth glowing from her dark skin. She reminds me of the moon or the stars, shining the way through a pitch-black night. How she is capable of mimicking exactly what people do is almost frightening. On her face I can see Mr. Sear’s fake expression, the look that is capable of making you burn inside and yet forces you to remain silent.

Mr. Sear looks away, annoyed at Veve’s perfect and diabolical response and turns to the rest of the class who has now gone silent. I quickly sneak a smile in Veve’s direction meaning thank you but as I’m looking away I catch Fleck also slipping in a hidden smile at Veve. He puts his arm up, gesturing a touch-less high-five in mid air and she returns one back. They laugh silently, keeping everything concealed from Mr. Sear. I face towards the teacher now, still thinking of Fleck and Veve’s strange new friendship.

“Class, class. Pay attention now.” His stern voice quietens everyone down. “Indeed, Scorpius is the main cause of death nowadays. As you all know, hardly anyone results to violence anymore like they did just some centuries ago. Oh, Humans were brutal, cruel creatures.”

His expression is disgusted and his shoulders shake, as if he’s shuddering at the thought. He’s probably just trying to capture our attention and exaggerating to give our lives some meaning as he obviously thinks without him they don’t. Well, if he is trying to get us interested, it sure is working on Sky. I look at him, arching my eyebrows, perplexed. He’s never been a fan of school. Mostly nobody is, but some adapt to living with it more than others. Like me. I accept it. It’s like a phase of my life that when I overcome, new experiences await. I laugh to myself. Sky is practically the exact opposite. It’s like he sees everything as a waste of time. School being one of the top on his I-have-better-things-to-do list. I don’t know what he spends all his time thinking about, but I can always tell when his mind has gone off wandering in his far-away land.

Today is different. He’s actually part of the class for once. And in a history lesson. It’s always been his least favourite subject.

I remember in Junior School, we were learning about the Rebirth after the Last Age, and when we got out of class I was completely shocked by the Earth’s past. The Authority had created a video with footages, clips of how the Earth used to be during the Last Age. It was practically unrecognizable, completely destroyed, buildings collapsed like pieces in a domino game, lands cracking in two separate pieces. One image continued playing itself on repeat in my mind, a girl grasping for her life at the highest branch of a tree while the rising sea shattered the earth beneath her. I had looked away as I heard the final wave taking her life like a beautiful sand castle freshly made at the edge of the beach. At the same time, war. Humans fighting, killing their own species for having different opinions. The Fatalists and the Fighters as they called themselves. Those who believed that when the end came, there would be nothing to do about it, and those who fought for their lives. The war kept changing and it never stopped; when situations got worse, the only thing left for humans to hold onto were the remaining resources. There were hardly any left, and the only way to win them was by battle. The more they killed, the less resources they needed to keep everyone alive.

Once out of the classroom, Sky had walked up to me. He could always tell when my thoughts weren’t the usual.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked me.

“Noth—” I hadn’t bothered finishing the word. He would have never let it go. “I just can’t believe it Sky. How our ancestors, our own families were so ruthless, so barbaric, such monsters, Sky!”

I remember breaking down in the middle of the school hallway, with the violent images of the video burning in my mind and refusing to get out. I had buried my face in his chest as he had his arms around me, one on my waist and one on my head, caressing my hair, taking me into the storage room for a moment to calm me down.

“Shh… shh,” My last tears escaped from my eyes as his soothing voice brought me back to the present. Once the sobbing had stopped, he took a hold of my shoulders, making me look straight into his eyes. It’s almost scary how I remember it so perfectly. It was maybe the first time I’d noticed those strange, changing eyes of his. They had been hazel that day, but the small streaks of green made them look so bright it was so easy for me to get distracted and erase the vicious pictures from my mind.

“Ember, now listen to me. I’m gonna tell you a little secret, but you mustn’t tell anyone because they won’t accept it. But I’m sure you will.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t believe in history.”

My eyes widened. History isn’t a religion. Not a fairytale or a mystical creature. You can’t just not believe in history. History is a fact. He had stopped me short before I could speak my thoughts out loud.

“I believe I’ll never know what the past was really like. There are many things we don’t know Ember, that we’ll never know. So many things that are hidden from us, and we don’t know it.” I remember him hesitating, not sure how or whether he should say it. “Do you trust me?”

I had nodded. “Then listen to me and not them.”

I never understood who or what he meant by ‘them’ and I hadn’t asked either. So many years have passed and I guess there are still many things about Sky I will never fully understand. I will never know exactly bit by bit the pieces that make him, him. I remember being so confused after our strange talk in the storage room, that I wasn’t even sure if he had meant to calm me down or get me thinking of something else. It most definitely had worked. It’s that part of Skylar, the genius that hides beneath his insanity, that will always keep us from knowing too much about the other.

I finally escape from my own far-away land, ashamed that I’d been so distracted and get back to the history lesson.

“You all,” he muttered something under his breath that I didn’t quite catch, “Think you know-it-all teenagers, really should be grateful for the Authority now. The Earth has reached its highest peak, the Peace Era they say it’ll be called. The Authority has made it possible to create just enough resources for everyone with what little we have left. That’s why, boys and girls, recycling, solar power, reducing carbon emissions is much more important now than before. We have no other options.”

I catch Sky’s disgusted glare and his eyes squinting with hate. Is this one of those times where I shouldn’t listen to ‘them’ as in Mr. Sear but Sky instead? Is this what he meant?

His hand shoots up and I bury into my seat, preparing for what he will say. Mr. Sear points at him and sighs, accepting to hear Sky’s usual childlike (as he refers to them) question.

“So, my dear Mr. Sear,” his face locks into an irritated, fake smile, forcing himself not to start a fight, “What does all this crap about equality and wearing the same damn grey clothes have anything to do with our special limited resources?”

Mr. Sear is not too surprised, and does not give into Sky’s skilful trap to get himself into trouble simply for expressing his thoughts.

“You’re quite right Mr. Hale, equality and ‘wearing the same damn grey clothes’ is difficult to see with…” he makes a face, and moves his hand up and down to indicate Sky. “Your mind’s capacity.”

Some giggles echo against the walls of the class but Sky does not give into Mr. Sear’s easy insult and keeps his chin held high and grin still beaming.

“Of course, I am not dumb, I see your point but what you and all your classmates do not understand is that the Authority has made equality for everyone to avoid going back to any wars. And this has to do with resources because as you will remember the Fatalists and Fighters…”

I zoned out again about there, not wanting to bring the images back in my mind. After a few minutes Mr. Sear and Sky’s debate was cut off by the town’s loudspeaker and the usual, stern lady voice speaks through in monotone:

“Fourth Ceremony of 125, 133, 146…” The robot-like lady went on a long list of numbers who correspond to 21 and 22 year old Incompletes all over Newbrook all looking down at their collarbones to see if their numbers are called out.

The list finally finished and the lady continued, “Will be held tonight in the Fourth Hall at precisely 6pm. Citizens, please check your Schedule and see if there have been any changes whether you are supposed to attend the Ceremony or not. Thank you. Please have a lovely rest of the day.”

The ‘click’ at the end indicates the announcement is over. I look down at my arm, like everyone else in the room, to see if the green, fluorescent words had changed from this morning when we all placed our arms into our Slots. A new word appears on mine: Ceremony. I look around me and the only other person who seems to have theirs change as well is Skylar.

The ‘ring’ of the bell rescues us from Mr. Sear’s Trap and everyone wanders off through the school halls, some with friends laughing and joking around, others letting their minds roam free and ponder like me. It’s only now I realize this could be my last time walking through these colourless school corridors. Now that it’s almost time for the Third Ceremony I will get assigned my job and officially finish school. Should I be happy for finally escaping this place I’ve called Hell all these years or should I be more worried on what type of nightmares lie ahead of me, filled with responsibility and importance? After all, this was all just preparation.

I walk away from my Third Ceremony and wonder whose Fourth I have to attend today. I look through the crowd of thrilled and bored faces, looking for a blonde scruffy head popping out but he is nowhere to be found. Who is someone that we both know who is old enough to be going through the Fourth Ceremony? A slim, long-faced blonde figure comes to my mind. Of course. Lexi. How could Skylar not even remember his own sister’s Ceremony? Sometimes I wish I could pay a quick visit to his magical far-away land.

A light body thuds against mine with a girly scream, and knocks me to the side.

“Oh my gosh, sorry Ember!” Veve’s laugh rings in my ear as she stumbles over me.

“No proble—” I start to say but she doesn’t give me the opportunity to finish. I hear her sweet, high voice jokingly scolding someone.

“That’s not funny Fleck!” Well, she seems to be laughing pretty much herself I think to myself, “You should apologize to Ember right now.”

I look to her right and see Fleck’s mischievous smirk, and he says to me, “Oh my gosh, sorry Ember!” exaggerating Veve’s feminine voice and teasing at the way she uses her hands to emphasize everything.

I was again, about to say ‘No problem’ but am again interrupted by Veve’s laugh as she pushes him back while he continues mimicking her.

Fleck is a funny-looking guy, his round glasses always pushed back in his dark-brown, almost black, messy hair, hardly ever combed I presume. His clothes are way too big for him, his shirt hanging loose just above his knees and his grey jeans pulled up by just enough folds to keep him from tripping over with his old trainers filthy with mud. I assume his clothes are all passed down from his three older brothers. On his left on the other hand, is one of the most elegant and self-aware girls I’ve ever met. Her dark wavy hair is pulled up in a perfect braid and her clothes, although being the same as any other girls’, somehow seem to fall flawlessly on her, shaping her body exactly how it’s supposed to be. They’re pushing each other away in a playful way, but no matter how many times they knock me over murmuring ‘sorry’ in between laughs, they’re always side by side. The pushing not creating any distance between them. They are like the different poles on a magnet. The exact opposite, and yet attract better than anything else, always ending up stuck to one another.

We’re already in the courtyard now, and I’m smiling as I assist their little show.

Veve is right behind me, Fleck’s round spectacles held clumsily in her right hand. He’s in front of me, yelling through me as if I were invisible.

“Hey! Veve, come on! I need those!”

She laughs as she skips from side to side of me, avoiding to be caught by Fleck.

“For what? Your geeky, curiously intriguing fashion sense?”

His gaze is now full of amusement, as if he’s just received a compliment.

“Oh, so Veve Ralley, the Veve Ralley thinks my fashion sense is… intriguing?”

She smirks, “If you think that’s a compliment—” but is interrupted.

“Veve Ralley is curious about my style! She’s jealous and wants to know more about it! Well don’t worry hun, they’re writing a whole article about it on the school journal entitled: ‘Fleck Joyles’ Fabulous Fabulousness’. You can get all the info there.”

I finally speak, stopping Veve from making a nasty response herself.

“Just putting it out there, the school journal which Fleck Joyles is the head of, writer of, photographer of, and only member of.”

He rolls his eyes at me and makes strange blabbering noises supposing to mimic me. Veve raises her left hand for a high-five from me. Catching her distracted, Fleck leaps in the middle of us, grabbing hold of Veve’s other hand just in time to take back his glasses.

“Geek victory again!” he yells as he turns and pretends to fly away with his imaginary cape while we laugh and turn the opposite direction.

***

The big white prison society makes us call ‘school’ is now far behind us and Veve and I still haven’t said a word. When she doesn’t speak, it means something is on her mind because Veve never loses a chance to gossip or chat about her neighbour’s new cat or Miranda’s cousin’s hair or Mrs. Twee losing an extra two pounds and so on. I look over at her and notice her cheeks brightened with a pink, red glow as if they’ve bloomed into beautiful petals and she’s the rose. She’s trying to hide her smile, not successfully, and I laugh at her weird facial expressions.

“What?” Now her brown eyes growing bigger in confusion.

At first I look at her as if saying, ‘Really? You don’t know?’ but then I give up and say, “What’s with you?” and a smile creeps back onto Veve’s face along with mine.

She looks away, the red flushing back to her cheeks. I realize waiting for her to answer is useless and there isn’t really much she has to say as she’s already said it by the way she’s acting.

“Seriously? Fleck?” I hear my voice saying each letter of his name separately, hoping that way it’ll really register inside her head. “Fleck? The weird kid who crept up in the middle of our conversations to pull a prank or tell an incomprehensible joke—”

We stop in front of the entrance to the Greenhouse and Veve turns her head towards mine, her expression now changed. She’s serious now, I can tell before she starts speaking and her eyes are fixed on mine, steady and filled with the emotion she’s trying hard to conceal.

“Sometimes we find happiness when we’re not looking for it. Or it’s been there all along and we were just too scared to take it. After all, happiness is really good at disguising itself. You never want to admit it’s there, worried that it won’t be enough to make you smile.” She stops a second, still phrasing in her mind what to say. “Well, it is.”

She turns and steps inside leaving me to stare at a closed glass door. Was what she said meant for me or her? Is my happiness hidden behind something that’s right beneath my eyes? Am I choosing to ignore it, waiting to see if I’ll find more?

***

We’re sitting on a green bench with a big bush of lavender on our right sweetening the air. Every day from 4.00 to 4.30 we sat here since we were 13, the age when you have your Second Numering Ceremony, when you’re given your part-time job, your “first responsibility”. There are aisles and aisles of flowers, plants and even small trees, which brighten everything around us, giving it a green glow as if we were in an enchanted forest out of a fairytale. I guess that’s probably why I’ve always liked working here, it never really did feel like work itself, more like a place where I’m allowed to lose myself. Being surrounded by lilies, dandelions, cacti and even the smallest of herbs wrapping under my feet, has always made it easier for me to lock myself into my little world. It’s always there, in the back of my mind, waiting for me to find the key and get lost inside.

Above us, the glass is crystal clear, reflecting the green from below with little splodges of yellow, pink and purple from the flowers. It’s always looked like a painting to me, with splatters of paint everywhere. Every time new flowers grew, new drops of colour appeared on the ceiling like an artist never fully finished with his piece, never completely sure if it’s yet a masterpiece.

The wall behind us is wrapped around in a huge, fuchsia bougainvillea entangling against the white wall as if it were hugging it to sleep, like a mother’s arms tryingto protect the child from the world. It’s almost comforting looking at the bright violet plant against the dullness of the wall. While to many people it would just be a pretty plant, to me it symbolizes something. It gives me the feeling that even in the most tedious occasions, or the most dreary people whose lives are slowly draining away, there is always a bright bougainvillea there to bring back the life in them, or lighten the way. Or it’s there to protect you. Protect you from yourself, from letting the whiteness take over your life.

We’ve already finished our first shift, only opening our mouths for small comments like, ‘Did you water this one yet?’ or ‘Oh no, another one died.’ and now sitting on the bench having our lunch I see Veve’s usual, always glimmering face is back in its place. Thank God, I think Maybe she’s not actually mad at me after all.

“Ember I just can’t believe it!” she exclaims, salad still in her mouth as she speaks. “I mean, can you?!”

I know she’s not waiting for an answer. She’s not even looking at me while she speaks, her smile fixed on the daffodils and dahlias in front of us.

“Like, three… three ceremonies Ember!” She turns her gaze on me, her eyes always shining. Sometimes I wonder whether they are at all brown. The sparkle never seems to fade, maybe they’re golden or—

“Ember?”

“Yes?”

I don’t know why I always lose track of my thoughts. Veve on the other hand, never gets herself distracted. It’s like she doesn’t allow it.

“Oh yes, of course, yeah…Three ceremonies. We’ve actually come this far.”

There is more excitement in my voice than I thought, and I get a strange sensation in my stomach, like somebody was trying to mix ingredients inside of me. I’m on my third step to becoming a Complete. I consider the Third Ceremony the most important, receiving a full-time job in society and working to help with resources is an honour for me. I don’t really have a preference for any of the options, they are all equally important, as of course, the Authority meant it to be.

“You know, I dreamt about it last night.” Her voice is higher than usual, almost singing. “I was dancing in the Hall and-- oh my, what do you think the Hall will be like?” I see thoughts and wonders racing through her mind as she says the words out loud. “I mean, they’re all different, and I bet the Third Hall will be gorgeous! I’ve never been to one, have you? No, of course you haven’t, I would’ve known.”

She lets out a squeal of delight as I stare at her, trying to get some words in the conversation but failing.

When she’s done, I feel my fingers dancing around on the edge of my bench and I find my eyes fixed on my rucksack. My fingers hop around to open it, and they take out my sketchbook, as if they worked separately from my brain. Just like that, the whole world shuts out completely and it’s like my eyes switch off. I don’t even know, they might be closed; but all I can see is what my hand is forming. The patterns are flowing down from my mind, through my hand and fingers making them prickle, and finally from the tip of my pencil to the blank page. My wrist jerks with trying to keep up with my mind’s quick dancing and swaying, as if a new student desperately trying to learn the tango. The white slowly fills with black spots. At least they look like spots, or ‘almost-spots’ when you first look, but suddenly you realize what you’re actually looking at. Again, triangles, squares, circles, rectangles and several other shapes I don’t even know the names of not having paid much attention in geometry class.

“Never thought I’d ever see something like this.”

A male, husky voice abruptly halts my hand, so sudden that the tip of the pencil breaks, leaving me with no other choice but to stop drawing. Embarrassed, I realize that after all my eyes were closed, and I immediately open them trying not to look like a freak who draws without even looking at the page.

I finally look up and find a pair of clear, blue eyes staring down at me. They are so lucid that by looking into their reflection I realize that he is not looking directly at me, but at the strange shapes my hand was making just a few seconds before. His expression is not what I’d thought it would be. He looks stunned, two curved eyebrows forming at the top of his forehead, but as they come down I notice a strange expression on his face. Not exactly happiness, almost like relief.

“Excuse me?” I try to sound calm and steady but the words come out in a different tone than I’d intended. Maybe too high or awkward. “Ahem.” I try to clear my throat but it’s no use. His sky-blue eyes change reflection and I see his enchanting face looking down at me. “I mean, have you never seen a girl draw before?” I frown in my mind, not understanding why the words came out so defensive towards this peculiar but beautiful stranger.

“Pardon me,” A gleaming, broad smile forms just below his crooked nose. “If I may ask, what is it that you draw?”

“Uhm… honestly… you asked me the same question I’ve been asking myself since I was five years old.”

“Oh.” A strange disappointment strikes his face, but it is soon covered up with another question. “I hope this isn’t too weird, although I can’t really think of a reason how it’s not… but do you believe in fate?” he puts his hand behind his head, scratching the back of his neck, without looking the slightest bit nervous though.

“I, uh, well,” I realize how stupid I must look right now, and try my hardest to sound like Sky does when he starts talking to me about dreams and theories. “Honestly, I find it strange to believe that my life has already been decided for me. Which is exactly what fate implies.”

The blue eyes search into mine and he asks me again, “What do you mean?”

“Fate entails one’s life to already have been ‘lived’ so to speak; because all the events have already been planned, and you’re just walking in the footsteps which haven’t yet been washed away from the sand.” The edge of his lips dances, and the left side rises to form a crooked but still enchanting grin. “I don’t like to think that. If I am being controlled by a life that’s already been prepared, then I prefer not knowing it and just live with the moment.”

“So, you don’t believe in many possible futures? You don’t think that each road you take might lead to a different destination?” he says.

“Well, what about you?” I smile and add, “Weird stranger asking me whether I believe in destiny or not.”

“There are many answers to that question that I am formulating in my head, but only one will be my final one. Sort of like all the roads in life that there are, but only one that we walk until we reach the end.” He pauses for a moment and his smile fades. “However, to answer your question, or rather my question… My final responses are two. Both yes and no. Yes, I believe that fate has brought me here for the very reason to meet you. But no, I don’t believe that there is only one road I will walk until I stop. I believe I’m still walking a certain one and the choices I have made during this journey will decide how many other roads await me once I reach the end.”

I don’t know what to say. His stare holds onto mine for another lingering moment, and then his mouth opens again. “Another thing I believe in as I’m telling you goodbye: this will not be our last.”

I open my mouth to answer, but he is already facing the opposite direction, walking past the long aisle of pink, white and red carnations which glow against his dull grey clothes as nothing I’d ever seen before. My mouth is still open as the door closes. Not once did he look back at me. I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling: happiness? Confusion? Bewilderment?

Though what I do know is out of all these feelings, the one that echoes in my mind the most is hope. Hope. Hope that this really will not be the last time I meet the sky-eyed boy.