Turning Eighteen
Maybe they should stop seeing each other? No, that would be silly. Were they that weak in the Way that they’d have to remain single until their Chosen Papers arrived? Other Rymellans didn’t shun relationships. She and Mo weren’t the only couple in the room without a future. As long as they were honest about where the relationship was going—nowhere—they had no reason to distance themselves from each other, especially when they were at the Military Academy and couldn’t avoid each other. If they were still together in a few years’ time, they’d have to cool things. Staying together now wouldn’t do them any harm. Ideally, the relationship would naturally run its course long before they turned twenty-five.
The music stopped. “Everyone count with us,” Michael and Susan shouted together, clearly enjoying themselves. “Ten, nine, eight—”
Mo was scanning the room. Lesley stepped forward and waved. She didn’t want Mo focused on her at midnight, but she didn’t want Mo to think she’d left, either. Mo caught Lesley’s eye and quickly shifted her attention to her parents. Lesley stepped back into the shadows.
“Three, two, one—” Everyone broke into applause. A few whistled. Mo suddenly disappeared, crushed between her parents as they embraced her.
Lesley couldn’t help but smile. Mo’s parents were so different from hers. She hadn’t received land on her eighteenth—Mama and Papa always followed tradition to the letter. They’d only give her land if she turned out to be the Principal of her Joining. She hoped she was, because she couldn’t imagine living anywhere but the Thompson estate.
Susan and Michael parted. Mo hugged her siblings and then stepped forward. “Shh,” someone said over the noise. The applause petered out. Lesley shifted her weight to her left foot.
“I’m not one for speeches,” Mo began with a smile—Lesley was too far away to see if the smile reached Mo’s eyes. “So I’ll be brief. It looks like I’m a Chosen. And I’m very happy about that.” She shoved her hands into her front pant pockets. “It’ll be a while before I find out who my Chosen is. Let’s see . . . right now, she could be as old as twenty-three or as young as thirteen. No matter—”
“Thirteen and already taller than you,” someone shouted.
The room exploded into laughter. Mo laughed too, but Lesley couldn’t bring herself to join in, despite knowing the joke was only a bit of good-natured ribbing. Mo seemed to have taken it in the spirit intended, but as far as Lesley was concerned, whoever had said it should have kept it to himself.
Mo waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. “Yeah, I guess I can say that whoever she is, she’ll probably be taller than me.” She glanced in Lesley’s direction. “But what I was going to say is that no matter how old she is, I’m sure we’ll get along very well. The Chosen Council has selected her for me, and me for her. I’m sure I’ll be happy with her, and I hope she’ll be happy with me.”
She better be, Lesley thought.
“My family . . . and I . . . will look forward to meeting her.” Mo smiled again. “I can’t really think of anything else to say. Like I said, I’m not one for speeches. The party has to end at 00:30 and it would be nice to squeeze in a few more dances, so I’ll stop there. Except to thank my parents for the party. And, of course, Lieutenant Commander Richmond, for allowing us to have it.” She nodded at him and clapped; everyone followed her lead. “And now let’s say the Words Every Rymellan Knows.”
Lesley moved toward the centre of the room and joined the circle that hastily formed. “Disobedience means Death. Death to those who commit a Chosen Violation. Death to those who disobey. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way!”
Everyone smiled and clapped. Mo nodded. “Thank you all for coming.”
Another round of thunderous applause, this time for Mo. Lesley enthusiastically clapped her hands, so proud of Mo, who’d looked so composed in front of everyone after what had probably been a tiring and stressful day. Whoever heard the name Ramona Middleton during her notification meeting with the Chosen Council would be very lucky indeed. Lesley certainly wouldn’t be disappointed if Mo was her Chosen. Wouldn’t it be funny if she cared so deeply for Mo because they were Chosens?
She stopped clapping and dropped her hands to her sides. What was she thinking? Mo was not her Chosen. She must never allow that thought to enter her mind again. That it had in the first place was worrisome. Her hands clenched. She was growing weak in the Way.
Had she already forgotten what she’d learned at the Indoctrination Academy? Nothing was more important than serving the Way and trusting the Chosen Council. Not her military career, not Mo, not anything. Perhaps she should join the group that met twice a week to discuss the articles of the Chosen Tradition. Heather, the group’s leader, had invited her to a meeting, but she’d declined. Reading the history of an article each week, along with commentaries by several advocates, would be a challenge to fit into her already busy schedule. Few first-year cadets belonged to the group for that reason. But now, she reconsidered. It would diminish the meagre amount of time she and Mo had to spend together when they weren’t in class or studying, but the Way must come first. Tomorrow, she’d beep Heather and tell her she’d changed her mind.
She needed to put her relationship with Mo into perspective. They enjoyed each other’s company. They trusted each other. And yes, they cared about each other. But they also had Chosens. Eventually Mo would look back on their relationship, see it for what it was, and realize how silly she’d been to think it would be difficult to leave behind. Lesley would do the same. She’d love and cherish her Chosen beyond anything she’d ever felt for Mo, and Mo’s Chosen would share Mo’s life in a way Lesley never had. And that’s exactly as it should be.
Her fingers ached. She unfurled her hands and stared at the angry red indentations her fingernails had left in her palms.
Mo watched the train pull out of the station, then left the platform. Even though she’d been up early and it was past 00:30, she felt wide awake. What a day! Was there any emotion she hadn’t experienced? And to top it all off, despite spending the entire day hoping and wishing and silently bargaining with the Chosen Council, despair had tempered her relief when the clock had struck midnight and sealed her fate as a Chosen. A Solitary Notification would have ended it—the relationship, the agony, the idiotic fantasy she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. And oh, how she pitied her Chosen! Not only would the poor woman never live up to Les, she’d be stuck with someone who went through the motions while pining for someone else. I hope she’ll be happy with me. Mo snorted. Yeah, sure. Good luck to her.