2

          The middle official stands up. “Welcome” she says. She’s a lean, pasty white lady with a shimmering floral tattoo around her right eye. Her lipstick shimmers silver in the light and her blonde hair is up in a bow tie.

          “What is your trade, Honey?” The second official says.

          Nervously, I sigh. “I’m a singer.” The ladies smile at me and tell me that I can start whenever I’m ready. A microphone rises up from the floor in front of me as I breathe heavily in and out.

          After what seems like years, I start to sing. I’m so nervous I start to screech. I start to focus on that and I forget the words. I almost want to give up. I want to cry but I just continue to sing until my song is done. The officials whisper as I come to an end.

          I stand there waiting for some kind of reply. When the officials are done whispering, they look at me and smile. “Thank you. You may go now.” the third woman says. “We will send you a rank card tomorrow.” I thank them for their time and run out of the building. I get to my car and cry. I’m not in a good place. I know this for a fact. My rank will be terrible. I will probably be a three or a two.

          I start the car and head for home. When I get there, mom can see the worry on my face. “I’m sure you did fine.” She reassures. I run upstairs and hide under the covers and sob. I sob until I fall asleep.

          Later, mom wakes me up for dinner. A ham and mashed potatoes. I think about this meal as it will probably be the last meal I eat with my mother. “Lyra, You will be okay.” Mom says. “You will do well no matter where you are put.” I push around the ham on my plate and sigh. Mom gets up and walks around the table to hug me.

          After dinner, I go upstairs and lay in bed with my readers tablet and I read Impulse by Ellen Hopkins. It’s an old book. Way before world war three even but it’s a good book. It’s about troubled teenagers that don’t think life will get better. It sounds like me at the moment.

          Soon, I fall asleep with my tablet still in my hand. I dream about the ranking and where I’m going to live.

          In the morning, I sit by the window until I see the mail truck come by. Mom makes me pancakes and brings them to me so I can keep watching for the mail truck.

            When it finally gets here, I run outside and go to the mail box. I pull the mail from the mail man’s hand and thank him. I run back inside and sort through the mail, shaking for fear of what information I might get.