Chapter Five: Ceremony

My head hurts, like someone’s beating my head in  with a hammer. I’m not sure if it’s from being sick or if something’s wrong. The difference is rather slim.

Outside there is noise, but it’s quiet noise, nothing too obnoxious or loud. But it’s there and bothering me.

I sit up and rub my eyes. Squinting at the window and try to see what’s going on through the blinds doesn’t work. I slide out of my warm bed to go see what’s disturbing me.

The floor is cold against the soles of my feet, so I walk on my toes.

Pulling the blinds down, I see a few small gatherings of people walking towards Downtown.

Neighbors, classmates, I can pick out a few of them.

I tilt my head for a moment, then realize that it’s the Presidential Ceremony that’s going on. There’s a knock on my door, “Seline.”

“Yeah, Dad?”

My door squeaks open and light from the hallway spills out. “There’s uh... the Presidential Ceremony is going on soon. You wanna come with me to go and check it out?”

I blink my eyes a few times, then peer down at my alarm clock. It’s 11 o’clock and I already had myself asleep. But now nothing’s going to put me back to sleep.

“Alright.” He leaves me back in the darkness of my room. It’s 11 at night and the Ceremony goes on this late at night? Well, it is a Friday, so it’s not like people give much of a care on how to spend their nights.

I pull on some jeans, an acceptable shirt for public wear, a light jacket and boots.

When I walk out into the living room, Mom is staring wide-eyed at the TV, then notices me behind her. “He’s going to be taking you?”

I nod my head, “I know, bit of a surprise on my behalf.”

It’s the local news station. “Live” is sitting on the top right of the screen while the scroll on the bottom contained information on what may be going on. But it’s all loud and inaudible, this is what the Presidential Ceremony must look like.

To me it really seems like a big as Hell street party.

“Seline,” Dad says, his notepad and recorder are held tightly in his hands.

I lean over the couch and kiss Mom on the cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” she smiles and pecks me back.

Outside is bone chilling cold, Demetrius was right about the weather. “So, work never stops, correct?” I ask.

He chuckles, “No, not ever.” I try to smile at him, but the cold refuses to let me work my face muscles. I’m happy that he’s enjoying his work though, I get to come home to a happy daddy.

We walk down the sidewalk, and from where we are, I can see lights of all kinds gleaming against skyscrapers. Black, red and yellow can be viewed on the glass. “So, what’s going to happen?” This is my first time going.

“Well, usually, they let them enjoy a pre-party for our Presidential Nominees and then they’ll get to the actual Ceremony, where they’ll declare who’s our new President.”

“You guys already voted right?” I ask, can’t help but be nosy.

“Yeah,” he looks down at his notepad, like he’s poised and ready for action.

“So... Who’d you vote for?”

He smiles, “You’ll know when the Ceremony takes place.” Too nosy.

As we make our way closer to Downtown, the streets begin to spot with more and more people, some standing in clusters, some joining in on what will be the Ceremony. The more and more that I see hold banners and Pacis' flag; black, red, and yellow.

I can’t tell if I’m tingling with excitement or with the cold. I guess it doesn’t matter, I’m joyous enough to know that I’m actually going.

The streets become tighter with people, and it becomes louder with hollars and yells. We slither through the people, making our way. I feel like I’m in the auditorium again, and someone’s going to trip me. The lights become more vibrant, brighter reds and glowing yellows.

In front of me, I can see a huge stage. It looks bigger than the base of School itself. There are small figures walking around, many in suits. There are only very few things that being tall can get you; you can reach stuff on the top shelf, and you can see past crowds of people.

Squinting behind the dark silhouettes and banners at hand, I can make out a few people; theirs the Vice President, Millet, a few other members of the Government, and now that I see him, it’s the other Nominee, Frerich Reider.

Someone grabs my wrist and pulls me into the rougher part of the crowd-- Dad. There are a few familiar faces, and some that are completely new to me.

A few people moving around and screaming elbow me in the ribs and the shoulders. I can see myself bruised in the mirror tomorrow.

“Millet is...” “No way he’s...” “But Reider...” I hear people talking, but it sounds like whispers in the ears, like ghosts.

Dad stops in the middle of the pit of people, nothing too far or too close to the stage. It’s more hollow here than anywhere else, behind me, it starts to scatter, but in front of me, it’s a bucket of people.

“Uh, Dad?” I say. He stares straight at the stage. “Dad,” I shout.

He looks over, “What is it, dear?”

I look down and see scattered chips of broken glass bottles. “How long does this thing go on?”

“Uh,” he tilts his head, “Not that long, but usually after the Ceremony, some people stay to party and drink.”

I nod my head, “Explains all the broken glass,” I mutter.

He grabs my arm and slides me in front of him, “Best you avoid that.”

When I stare up at the stage, I have to blink numerous times because the lights hurt my eyes. They’re too concentrated and intense for me. The only thing that I can stand that are bright are Demetrius’ eyes.

The Vice President walks around the stage, his hands folded in front of him. He’s nervous either because there is a lot of mad looking chaos down here or because he’s going to get booted from his seat. The second one sounds like it makes more sense. I can see the pin on his suit glint from the stage lights pounding on the bald spot of his head.

As every second goes by, I can hear the crowd get louder, they’re waiting for the Ceremony to begin, and by their reaction, it’s going to happen any minute.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Pacis City, tonight, will be the night where will we have a new President. A man who will lead the way for us, a man who will ignite a flame and lead us to glory and prosperity,” I hear the Vice President say. “Tonight, this man will be one who will aid us in our time of need, a man who will be our voice, our opinion. A man who will be us.”

This is all starting to sound like Millet in the auditorium again. I’m good for repeated speeches; once is enough for my mind.

I hold my hands together, and even while it’s cold, my hands are warm and clammy. Too much excitement.

“Tonight, the City of Pacis will be lead to victory, become strong like our Eagle, and peaceful as an Olive Wreath.” He clears his throat loudly, like he’s trying to get everyone’s attention.

The entire crowd goes quiet, like someone shot a bullet into the crowd.

Dad holds his recorder up, and his feet are becoming giddy, almost like it’s the best moment of his life.

A woman in a black cocktail dress walks over to the center of the stage, holding a silver tray in her hands and a small envelope sits in the middle with Pacis' City Seal. Every step of her heals added to the madness of wanting to find out who are new President is.

A pin can drop and everyone in the City can hear it.

When she meets the Vice President’s side, he takes the envelope, smiles at her for thanks, and holds it out in front of him. “This here, will be our future. What we all remain dependent upon.” He folds open the top of it, the City Seal ripped in half.

He pulls a small paper out, one that can possibly hold only one name on it. Nothing more than that. I can see him gulp, because his adam’s apple jumps up on his neck.

“And now, the President for the City of Pacis, the man that will hold all of our problems,” it sounds like he’s trying to hold back a cough. “Please. President...”

Everyone remains still, their eyes don’t even twitch to the suspicion.

“Millet,” he lets out in a sigh, like he’s sad that he’s going to be taking the job.

Around me, everything roars, the lights around me glow vibrantly to the point where they can make me blind. I’m startled almost, because I didn’t think that everything could happen this quickly.

Dad starts smiling and laughing and cheering all at once and I can’t find out what his expression is. “Dad,” I sigh, this is the first time I’ve seen him like this and I can’t help but smile at him looking so childish.

He pulls me into a hug, one that’s tight and compact. I guess I now know who he voted for.

Behind all of the people, I see Millet walking towards the Vice President with a large grin of astonishment on his face. It looks fake to me. The Vice President apparently now holds a book in his hands, The Seven Peaces, which basically tells about seven sins but actually tells you how to refrain from falling to your knees for them.

The Vice President begins the Inauguration for Millet, who will now be our President in a few short minutes.

“So you made it,” I hear the voice say. I turn my head and see that it’s Demetrius.

His hair is beginning to loosen in small locks fall to the forehead of his face. It looks strange, and his shirt is loosened and the first few buttons on his shirt are off. I can’t tell if this is the first time I’ve seen him look so casual and relaxed.

Somehow, a smile grew on my face, “Yeah. You look like you just woke up from a nap.”

He looks up at Millet and smiles, his teeth white and shining. “A little crazy, isn’t  it?” I nod. “So, what do you think of him?”

I point up to the stage, “Him? Well,” I pull my lips into my mouth. “I don’t know... I mean, he put hair gel in my hand.”

He chuckles, “really? So that’s what  smelled when you walked out of the auditorium.”

I look down, small pieces of confetti fleck the asphalt. I shudder as a cold zephyr flows past.

“Cold much?” He asks. I shrug it off like its nothing.

The crowd slowly calms as Millet starts to begin his Inauguration. From here, I zone out, this isn’t something that’ really that important to me. He’ll be our President, but do I really need to watch him become one?

“Hey, Demetrius,” I turn my head to him, ready to ask a question. He looks around a phone up to his ear.

“Alright,” he says a bit too serious for his own personality, then closes his phone shut.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Oh, you know... Mom’s getting worried over me.” He sighs, “I should probably get home.” As I look up at him, his hand rests on my shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” His arm knock into others, paving his own path to get out of the crowd.

“Alri- Wait, tomorrows Saturday!” I yell over the crowd, but he’s too far to hear.

“Hm...” I look forward, and see that Millet’s right hand is held up, and his left remains on the cover of The Seven Peaces.

Dad leans over to me, “Demetrius?” I nod. “That fella is really strange.”

“Yup. But that’s alright with me.”

“At least you have one friend,” he says. I frown at him immediately.

If only he knew that I’m really a strange girl with a Conscience that runs back and forth between us. I think his definition of strange would be on an entirely new level.

“You, hereby declare, that your voice, shall be the representation of those of us within the walls of Pacis City? The City of peace and strength? The voice that will lead us out of dark times, and lead us towards the path so that we do not stray?” Millet replies with a “yes, sir.”

Most of the Inauguration Quota is finished, and by tomorrow, he’ll give out his formal Speech of Acceptance into Office. Our now President Millet lowers his hand and then shakes it with who used to be the Vice President. He’s always put into office by the Judicial Department, where they find those who meet the standards to be the next Vice President or something along those lines. Dad stands there with a spark of happiness in his eyes as his hand holds the recorder.

On the walk home, I feel like I may be drunk with excitement, or at least that from other people. Dad sighs as he plays with his recorder. “And this year you’ll finally be able to vote.”

The age restrictions in this system is unique. From birth until age 15 you are considered a child/teenager. But when you become 16 you’re considered an adult, but you still live with your parents. At 18, you’re a full fledged adult, which means you can drink, party, etc. So saying, when I turn 16 this year, I’ll be able to finally vote, or when the next Election comes around.

“Yay,” I say boringly.

He elbows me in the arm, “Come on now, you know you kind of want to.”

I actually don’t want to. It’s the fact that you have to hear two people’s sides and pick one, while they both have the same thing they’re fighting for. “I’m not sure. Maybe Millet won’t be such a bad President, and if he doesn’t his job properly, then maybe there won’t be any need to vote for anyone else.”

He looks down at me, “But it’s in your civil right to do so. You should use it while you have the chance.”

I shrug, “Let me think about it.”

He quaffs, “Well, you got a few months until then.”

“Technically, I have until Millet’s abnegation or death.”

The walk home is somewhat silent, except for a few small bits of chatter and the noise of others going home. When we walk back in, Mom comes in and hugs Dad and pecks him on the cheek, “Haha, I saw you two on TV.”

“Really? Look at that, we’re going to be celebrities,” Dad chuckles. I shake my head at the two. I feel so happy to have them, otherwise my life would be as dull as a stick.

I head back into my room and see that it’s exactly how I left it, but now my beds cold. I sit down on it, then fall back onto the pillow. I breath out humid heat and feel my neck muscles loosen.

My body’s lost all the energy to pry my clothes back off, so I keep them on, because it’s the only heat that I have.

Without giving my mind a heads up, my eyes close and the soft waves of sleep crash into the sides of my head.

***

I wake up in about a few hours, of course, the recent school food that I had ingested makes a path towards the bathroom. I feel bad to wake Mom up and have her ask if I’m okay, which I state I’m not.

She know’s that it’s the food.

For some reason, I haven’t allowed my parents to sue the School for constantly making me sick. I guess I have some sort of pity on the school, or it can also be the fact that we may just not win that war. So I tolerate me constantly dying.

I clutch at my stomach, waiting for the next stage of pain and suffering. I head into the kitchen and quaff down about two cups of water and fall over onto the dining table.

The wood has a nice and oaky smell, with a hint of lemon-- wood polish. I let out a whine, I don’t want to go anywhere besides just fall on the floor and wait for something to happen.

I’m suspecting death is waiting nearby, but I don’t want to say that I’m that extreme over a bad case of illness. I’m amazed that my system just hasn’t learned to fight past this, it’s happened about four times.

Hauling myself up, I accept my fate.

There is a window that is just next to the dining table, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m sick or not that I may be hallucinating.

But I swear that there was a dark figure standing out there watching me.