Turning Eighteen
“Yeah, maybe.” She spent most of her time sitting at a desk, as she had at the Learning Academy, but the courses had a narrow focus, like the Indoctrination Academy. She also had scheduled physical exercise and practical sessions, like weapons training and combat manoeuvres. Okay, the Indoctrination Academy won.
They crossed the courtyard and came to a crossroads; Mo veered to the right. “I didn’t expect the academy to be so big,” Mama said.
“It’s huge. I doubt I’ve seen all of it. But the dormitory isn’t far.” Mo walked faster—she didn’t want to have to race off to class the moment they entered her room. “I’m on the second floor,” she told them as she pulled open the dormitory’s main door. A minute later, she ushered her parents into her current home with a sweep of her arm. “Here we are.”
Mama glanced around the small room and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you sure this is your room? Look how neatly those clothes are folded. I didn’t know you could fold clothes. Did you know she could fold clothes, Michael?”
“Mama!”
“I know your room had to be tidy at the Indoctrination Academy, and you’re managing to keep it tidy here. Why can’t you do that when you’re at home?”
Because there weren’t spot checks at home. An untidy room wouldn’t lead to a black mark on her military record or a rod across her back. Mama and Papa would tut and nag and eventually ground her until she cleaned her room, but that was it.
Papa laid his hand on Mo’s shoulder. “The important thing is that her room here is neat. We can talk about her room at home next time she’s home. She’s a big girl now, and a busy one. So let’s get on with it.”
Mama gave Papa a long look, then reached into her inner cloak pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is from Papa and me. Happy eighteenth.” She held out the envelope, her eyes bright. “I can’t believe you’re eighteen already.”
Mo accepted the envelope and opened it. She had a good idea of what it would contain—a deposit into her trade account. No more allowances for her. She slid out a sheet of paper and unfolded it. Her eyes bulged. “Are you sure there isn’t an extra zero on the end?”
Papa leaned over her shoulder and read the amount. “Positive,” he said gruffly.
“I don’t know what to say. This is very generous.” Generous? She could never earn a credit in her life and still die with a healthy balance. “Thank you.” Mo reached for them.
“There should be another sheet,” Mama said. “Underneath?”
Mo took a closer look. There was. She flipped to the second paper and read it, then looked at her parents in confusion. “This is a land deed.” Land was usually presented the day before meeting with the Chosen Council, and only to Principals. “But I may not be the Principal. I may even be a Solitary.”
“We said being a Solitary didn’t matter, and we meant it,” Mama said. “We did the same with Neil, Mary, and Matthew on their eighteenths. We know it’s not customary, but it’s only a small piece of land, barely enough to build a house. If you turn out to be the Principal of your Joining, we’ll give you more.”
“We just wanted to make sure you know that you can always come home,” Papa said.
Overcome, Mo launched herself into his arms. Her cheeks felt wet, but she didn’t care. As long as she had Mama and Papa, maybe, just maybe, she’d get through the next few years and learn to cope with losing Les without losing herself. “I love you. Thank you so much,” she managed to say.
Papa cleared his throat. Mo let go of him and reached for Mama. “And you, too, Mama.”
“I love you, too,” Mama murmured, hugging her.
Mo sighed and drew back. “I know what I’m going to do with some of these credits.”
“What?”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve before replying. “Take aviacraft lessons.”
“Aviacraft lessons?” Papa exclaimed. “Why would you want to do that?”
Mo gave him a withering look. “Because I want to be a fighter pilot. Les figures knowing how to fly an aviacraft could give us an edge when we apply for the pilot program.”
Mama raised her eyebrows. “Lesley plans to take lessons too? Does Adelaide know?”
Probably not. “I don’t know. I mean, we’ve only talked about it a couple of times. We were waiting until I’m old enough to get a licence before seriously looking into it.”
“And until you had enough credits?” Papa said.
Mo flushed. “Well, yeah, that too.” Along with waiting to see if they still had a relationship; the same reason they hadn’t rushed to request the same room, though neither of them had ever said that out loud.
Mama frowned. “Adelaide’s still holding out hope that Lesley will switch to advocacy.”
“I doubt that’ll happen.” Les seemed content at the academy. She hadn’t mentioned advocacy once.
Someone knocked at the door. Mo tensed. Blood pounded in her ears. Fortunately, her apprehension was short-lived—the door opened and Kary peered into the room. “It’s just me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, come in, come in,” Mo said, resisting the urge to run over and hug her. “These are my parents, er, Michael and Susan.” Calling them by their first names never felt right, and probably never would. “And this is Kary, my roommate.”
Kary nodded at them; they nodded in return. “Mo mentions you a lot,” Mama said.
“She talks a lot about you, too.” Kary stepped into the room. “I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance to meet you later. I knew Mo was planning to bring you here before her class, so—”
“Flaming Argamon!” Mo checked her comm unit. “I forgot about my class. I have to go. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.” But then she hesitated. Running out on her parents would be rude, especially given their generosity. Then again, Lieutenant Bailey would have a fit if she was even a minute late—he didn’t suffer latecomers very well. “Sorry, but I have to go now.” She looked around for her knapsack, realized it was still on her back, and headed for the door. Oh, but— “Wait! I have to sign you in. You need a pass to wander on your own.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’ll be late for class.”