Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(10)

I wanted to ask, but just then we were corralled into a common room with chartreuse low-backed couches that smelled like moth balls. There were eight of us labeled for our age. Eight new seventeens. In a huddled mass across the room were at least a dozen others, probably sixteens or fifteens. I recognized at least two of them. Both underclassmen at Western. I was pretty sure one was named Jacquie, but she didn’t meet my eyes when I glanced her way.

A group of residents had also arrived, all flashing eerily robotic smiles. They were dressed like clones of one another: Little black flats met long navy skirts, and matching long-sleeved tees topped them off. It was an utterly drab outfit, even for a fashion moron like me.

“Attention please, ladies,” called Ms. Brock. The room silenced. “Welcome. I am Ms. Brock, the headmistress here at the Girls’ Reformatory and Rehabilitation Center of West Virginia.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Ms. Brock turned and seemed to stare straight at me.

“Section 2, Article 7 mandates that you become ladies, and until your eighteenth birthday you will be groomed to be nothing less than the very finest models of morality and chastity.”

At the word chastity, Rosa snorted. Ms. Brock shot her a look of pure venom.

“The world has changed, my dears,” she continued through her teeth, “and you are fortunate to be a part of that change. From today forward, it is my great hope that you press on with open minds and modest spirits. That you embrace your call to the Sisters of Salvation, and return to the dark world with one true mission: to spread the light.

“Now the hall monitors will show you to your dormitories.”

I took a deep, quaking breath. No. I could not stay here five more months. I wasn’t going to be a light-spreading messenger of crazy. I couldn’t end up like that empty girl the soldiers had practically dragged down the hall. I had to get out of here and find my mother.

The crowd of androids parted, revealing a bright-faced girl with spirals of blond hair cascading down her shoulders. Pretty blue eyes matched a perky smile. All that was missing was the halo.

“Hi! I’m Rebecca Lansing, your roommate.” Her annoyingly high-pitched voice sliced through the shuffle. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Ember.” She motioned for me to follow her down the hallway beneath the stairs. I wondered how she knew who I was.

“I’ll bet you are,” I replied sourly, glancing around for Rosa. She’d already disappeared.

Rebecca frowned at my tone. “I know it’s hard at first. But you’ll get used to it. Pretty soon this will feel like home, but better. Like summer camp.”

When I realized she wasn’t joking, I swallowed hard.

Rebecca led me into a dorm room. Something about being around her made me feel grimy. My school uniform was still stained with grass and dirt from yesterday.

“This will be your side.” She pointed to the twin bed nearest to the door. The mattress was thin as cardboard, covered by the thin pink blankets you see in hospitals, and flanked by matching furniture: a dresser on one side, a desk on the other. Atop the desk was a small aluminum reading light, a few thin notebooks, and a Bible. Rebecca’s bed was pressed against the far wall under the window. Just as mine had been at home.

Tears stung my eyes, and I turned toward the wall so that Rebecca wouldn’t see.

“I went ahead and got your uniform,” Rebecca told me helpfully. She handed me a neatly folded blue ensemble and a gray wool sweater. “And I brought you up some breakfast. We’re not supposed to have food in our rooms, but they made an exception because I’m the SA.”

Whether Rebecca was human or not, I was grateful for the food.

“You’ve really been here three years?” I said between ravenous bites of granola.

“Oh, yes,” she said in a sugary voice. “I love it here.”

I felt as if I were in a science fiction story. The kind where they make you take pills that control your mind.

Rebecca had been dropped off by her parents before President Scarboro had instituted the Moral Statutes. They were missionaries and had gone to serve God overseas before international travel had been banned.

As Rebecca told me more, my shock wore off and turned into pity. Her parents hadn’t contacted her since leaving the country, and though she adamantly defended that they were alive, I was doubtful. There was a lot of anti-American sentiment abroad during the War.

I couldn’t help thinking what terrible parents they were to abandon their child, especially in a place like this. I questioned again if I had tried hard enough to reason with the soldiers who’d taken me, but though I swallowed the guilt, it weighed down my stomach like a rock.

Rebecca sat on the end of my bed and braided her yellow hair over her shoulder while I changed. She prattled on about how excited she was to have a new roommate and how we were going to be best friends, which put a halt to any questions I’d been thinking I might ask her about Ms. Brock and the Sisters of Salvation. Because the conversation seemed so superficial it had to be fake, and because I was pretty sure it wasn’t fake, I blocked out her voice and checked my reflection in the mirror.

I’d never been conventionally pretty: My eyes were big and brown and I had long black lashes, but my eyebrows didn’t arch right and my nose was slightly crooked. Now my complexion was ghoulish—not entirely unlike the girl the soldiers had escorted back into the building—and my cheekbones appeared too prominent, like the last hours had added ten hungry years to my life. The navy uniform was even worse than my school uniform, probably because I resented it a hundred times more.