The Woodlands (9 page)

We followed the curve of the garden w
all in the opposite direction until we reached a platform. We waited there in the line, as a whisper quiet train pulled up. Everyone still seemed on edge after what had happened, and of course, there was no talking. I walked right at the back of the line as we boarded the train and ended up in a rear carriage with only one other girl on it. The train whizzed away from the platform and rounded the bend.

I
peered out the window at the garden as it rushed past. It was thickly wooded from the outside, but through the trees I could see glimpses of other beautiful plants. As we continued I caught sight of what appeared to be pens—I think I saw a goat, and some other animals that I wasn’t sure of the names. We stopped suddenly and I bumped into the seat in front of me. The girl shot me a reproachful glare as I stood up to disembark the shooting bullet of a train. I didn’t like it. It felt like we were going too fast with not enough time to take in the scenery, but maybe that was the point. We weren’t here to sightsee.

The tidy woman turned to face the line and said,
“These are your living quarters for the next two years. My name is Mischka Baron and this is Stasia Krepke. You may address us as Guardian Baron and Guardian Krepke.”

She went on to read from a very long list of rules. Things we could do and things we couldn
’t do, mostly the latter. I was surprised to hear that we were afforded some leisure time and quite a bit of freedom to walk the grounds. I was itching to get into that garden. Visiting the boys’ quarters was strictly forbidden. We were allowed to socialize, to a point, but there were curfews. We were reminded that we were always being watched and any inappropriate behavior would be dealt with severely. The very fresh memory of the curled up, lifeless girl flashed before my eyes. I prayed there would be a list of these rules on the wall somewhere because as soon as she said we could wander around the grounds, I had only been half-listening. Looking with longing to that wooded area.

We were led through big double gates and I
realized we were to be living in one of the eyes of the surprised face we had seen from the air. The walls were as a high as those in Pau, shutting everything out, keeping us contained. Guardian Baron gestured to the relevant buildings as we passed them. The sun was going down and a low chill was floating across the grass. There were bathrooms, laundry, and lounge areas. We were required to do our own laundry and there was a schedule for when we were allowed to shower. Through to the big main building there was a list on a sidewall. There were three levels and our names and numbers were printed on the list next to a level and room number. There would be girls from last year, and the last four quarterly intakes up until this one, living together in the one building. All the first years were on the top level. I felt young. Everyone else was eighteen years or older.

Once we got to the top
, we were led along a hallway and through more grand, double doors. It was a vast, open room with rows of beds. The polished floorboards were scuffed and worn from the hundreds of boots that must have walked up and down these rows over the years. It smelled musty and it was freezing cold. I could see my breath as I exhaled. On each stretcher bed there was a number stuck on a pile of blankets, bedclothes, pajamas, and our new uniforms, all grey-green. We would no longer wear the tree emblem from our hometowns. We were wards of the Classes and our new uniforms bore a simple emblem of eight concentric circles embroidered in black. I used to think my room was pretty basic; this was a whole new level of simplicity. Completely devoid of privacy.

As we walked around trying to find our
beds, the great metal lights hanging from the ceiling shone like spotlights, swinging slightly from the vibrations of shuffling feet on the floor. I found my bed, which was thankfully by a window. I sat down and surveyed my neighbors. Scared, nervous girls, missing their parents, and trying so hard not to end up like the girl in the yard. I felt sure that the over-reaction to her subordinance was a message, a warning to all the newcomers not to step out of line. This was going to be very hard for me.

“
Change into your uniforms and be ready for dinner at six o’clock,” Krepke shouted, a little too loudly. Baron stared at her disapprovingly. “I mean, errr, umm, 1800.”

We changed and I noticed we had been provided
with a small toiletries bag with some basics in it. I decided I would go brush my teeth and fix my hair before dinner.

When I arrived at the
bathrooms, there were other girls in there. Three of them were talking about the girl, Ana.

“
It’s awful but she shouldn’t have yelled like that. She made us all look bad,” the tall, blonde one said.

“
I suppose,” piped a small mousy girl, “but I think the punishment was rather harsh.”

“
Rather harsh?” I was, as always, shocked by people’s reactions to the violence. “I think that’s an understatement. She’s dead—that’s not a punishment, that’s an execution.”

The blonde girl looked down her nose at me, opened her mouth to
speak, and then thought better of it. Things were not going to be different for me here. I was still viewed as the troublemaker, someone you didn’t want to be seen standing next to, let alone be seen speaking to. They left, chattering about allocations and what they were hoping for.

I stared at myself in the mirror, my odd eyes staring back at me. My hair was a mess from the helicopter and the physical tests. I brushed it out and left it down. I looked tired, but then so did everyone else. The clock in the bathroom said 17:55. I quickly ran upstairs, threw my bag on my
bed, and flew out the door. The dining hall was back in the main circle. So I waited for the train to speed me back.

When I arrived at the dining
hall, everyone was already seated. They all stared at me as I looked for somewhere to sit. I searched for Joseph. He was sitting in the back with a group of older boys, laughing and joking. Of course, he had already made friends. I tried to make eye contact but he wouldn’t look my way, although I’m sure he saw me—everyone saw me. I sat down at the end of one of the long, wooden tables next to another group of boys, avoiding the sour girls I had met in the bathroom. The boys smiled and shuffled down to make room for me. They introduced themselves. There was a tall boy with light brown hair called Serge. He was goofy looking, like his arms and legs were too long for his body. Across from me was a handsome boy with dark hair and dark skin named Rasheed. He was younger, like me.

“
Wow, amazing eyes!” he said. I glared at him but he just smiled back at me. “Whoa, guess the eyes are a touchy subject then.” Usually talking to me like this would make me want to slap the person, but he had such a charming manner about him that he relaxed me straight away.

“
Wow,” I said in mock admiration, “amazing big nose!” Serge was laughing, a little too much. Rasheed just grinned.

“
I like her,” he said, elbowing a boy next to him, who ignored him and continued to push his peas around his plate.

We talked all through dinner, and for a moment
, I could forget about the harrowing events of the day and just enjoy someone’s company. It was a welcome change. Every now and then, I would look to the end of the table, to see if my friend had noticed me. Only once, he glanced my way. He seemed unhappy. Uncomfortable.

Af
ter dinner, we were scanned out and told to make our way back to our dorms. I wanted to walk, but I thought, tonight at least, I should try and behave myself. I took the train back. I was exhausted after all. I put my new pajamas on and crawled into bed, knowing full well sleep would probably escape me tonight. All night long I could hear other girls weeping into their pillows. Tears would not find me; there was nothing left to cry about. I thought about allocations. I hoped against hope that I might get into something decent. I also gave a secret wish for Joseph to get into what he wanted also. I did not hope for us to be in the same Class. That would not happen.

We were roused at 06:00 for showers and then straight to breakfast. Krepke and Baron were at the entrance to the bathroom, shouting at us to hurry up. I saw Baron strike a girl on the back while she was still in a towel, a red welt appearing across the girl’s still wet skin. I was always good at getting ready fast, so for once, I was first in line.

Breakfast was a help-yourself kind of deal, with big metal dishes full of steaming food. Food I had never even seen before. I piled a little of everything on my plate. I wanted to try as much as possible. As I went to sit
down, I could see Joseph sitting at the end of the table again. He looked up at me and smiled, sadly. I took a step towards him but he shook his head. His behavior was infuriating. I wanted to go and confront him but I heard ‘Hey amazing eyes, over here’. Rasheed and Serge were motioning for me to sit with them and I figured, well, at least they wanted to talk to me, so I turned away from him and towards my new friends.

“
You should be quiet, Rasheed, you’ll get us in trouble,” I winked.

“
Call me Rash, and I think trouble’s more fun!” He winked back, eyeing my piled-high plate with amusement.

I dug in and
, to my disappointment, found that everything tasted the same. The red meat tasted the same as the noodles with soup, which tasted the same as the orange fruit. I stared at my plate, confused.

Serge spoke,
“It’s synthetic, made to look like food from home but tastes like grey sludge. It has all the nutrition we require. I think it’s supposed to stop us from feeling homesick if it at least resembles something from home.” We rolled our eyes in unison. I was grateful that dinner, at least, tasted like real food.

“
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Rash said with a wicked grin, brandishing his spoon like a weapon. I was sure I shouldn’t be associating with this boy but I couldn’t help myself. He was like me; I’d never met anyone like me.

When breakfast was
over, we were told to report to our town room for allocations and the Letter. I had forgotten about the Letter. Once we received our Class allocation, we would be given one hour to write a letter to our parents, informing them of what we would be doing and to say farewell. I wondered what they would do for Ana’s parents. It had to be on our own paper and with our own pens so that the parents would know it was from us. The Superiors treated us like we were ignorant peasants. If they wanted to fake a letter, they could, easily. They thought of these inane ways to placate the people when all they really needed to do was maintain the fear. And they certainly did that.

Rasheed grabbed my hand and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“Good luck, see you at dinner,” and with that he was off to meet his group from Banyan, Serge to the Birchton group.

I followed Joseph and the others down the
hall to a door with the Pau Brazil tree stenciled on the front. Upon entering I could see my place, with the five pens on the table that mother had found and our family letterhead stamped on the top of the paper. There was an envelope on the table that I knew contained my whole future. My allocation. Everyone took their places and started opening their envelopes hungrily. There were sighs of relief, looks of confusion and sheer devastation. I opened mine. It read ‘Rosa Bianca has been allocated the Class of Construction’. Confused didn’t even begin to cover how I was feeling. It was like getting sucked down a drain hole, gripping the edge for a moment before it pulled you down a waterslide. Joseph turned around to face me. I mouthed the words, ‘construction’. He mouthed the words ‘medical’. We both looked confounded by what we had read. Though Joseph was far better off than me—I was headed for a life in the Lowers.

We were barely given time to process this new information before we were told we had
one hour to write our family letters. Everyone started writing frantically. I just sat there and stared at my page. What could I say? This would be a disappointment to Paulo or maybe a triumph. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I had failed. My mother would be destroyed by it. I wanted to write something personal, tell my mother I missed or loved her, but nothing came, my hand was still but for the pen pecking dots on the paper. Joseph was scribbling away at a frenetic pace. In fact, so was everyone else. What was wrong with me? With about fifteen minutes to go, my hand selected a pen and wrote:

To Lenos Bianca,

I hope you are happy now.

Sincerely, your daughter,

Rosa Bianca

P.S. Thanks for the eyes.

I folded it up carefully
, slowly, drawing out the last few remaining minutes. I put it in the envelope and wrote his name on the front. Then I just sat there and waited for them to call time.

Joseph was writing right up until they told us to stop. His broad shoulders hunched over his desk, his arm wrapped protectively around his precious letter to his beloved parents. I was so jealous of him and angry with him
too. He could talk to me—he should. He owed me at least that.

“
Please stand up and place your letters on the front desk.” We stood and Joseph’s hand shot back. He shoved a folded-up piece of paper into my hand and walked out, without turning around. I quickly stuck it in my waistband and followed. We had twenty-five minutes before we were to report to our Class rooms. I took this opportunity to walk to the gardens.

I stepped through the gate and was immediately enveloped in greenery. It was cold but my cheeks felt warm. My heart was beating so fast as I raced to find a place I could sit and read. I was hoping it was an apology
or maybe even a confession. That he wasn’t going to ditch me in this place. That he was still my friend. I should have left it to my imagination.

The first part was crossed out. I thought I could read the words
‘your father asked’. But then the rest was illegible. The part that I could read was an apology. But it was not the apology I was hoping for. Joseph said that he was very sorry. That he had used me for comfort, as a distraction while he was in the waiting period and upset about leaving his family. He said he never should have let it go on as long as it did and that he felt terrible. He said he did care for me, but now that he was going to the Uppers and I was going to the Lowers, it was better for both of us that we spent time with people from our own Class. He asked me not to talk to him and asked forgiveness for his behavior.

I f
elt my insides turning to stone, my heart slowing, my breath taking longer and longer to go into my lungs and out.

If I didn
’t know how I felt about him before the letter, then I certainly knew my feelings now. Now, when it was too late.
So this is what it felt like to have your heart broken
, I thought. I hadn’t even noticed that I was crying until the words on the page started to blur as the ink ran together. I knew I wouldn’t come back from this.

I stood up and scrunched
the letter into a tight ball in my fist. I let the stone turn inside me, feeling the exquisite pain of love lost—before I even had a chance to hold it. I walked to my Class, feeling heavy but empty with tears still streaming down my face.