Kill School: Slice (5 page)

Hours later,
the smell of a roast and a knock on my door wakes me up. Mom enters my room.
She wears an old pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Even though she’s not dressed
in her work clothes, or her red suit, she still looks glamourous.

“Your father told me.” I hear Mom’s breath catch in her
throat. She is nervous.

Mom sits on my bed and glances at the turquoise peeking out
of the bracelet. A pang of guilt makes me want to tell the truth. Maybe she’d
be able to help me through it. However, I cannot get out the words. In fact, I
can’t get out any words.

Mom’s eyes become glassy. “Let’s not talk about it now.
Come down to dinner and see what your dad prepared for you.”

Mom glances at my science book, still open to the page
listing all of the tokens. Her eyes drift up to my terminal where the screen
saver prevents her from seeing my kill list. I know she’s curious. I’ve seen
her in Sebastian’s room whispering in his ear as he sits in front of his
terminal. I watched them once with the screen open to map view. Mom was
pointing out possible targets and discounting ones as well.

How I wish I could have her help, but I fear I may have to
do my termination on my own. I wouldn’t want to put her life in jeopardy.

“I haven’t tried to login yet.” I lie. It’s not the first
time I lied to my mother. However, the other times, homework, grades, stuff
like that, don’t compare to this.

Mom steps over to my terminal and touches the screen. I
think of the names behind my flashing screen saver, all names Mom would
instantly recognize. What will happen if she logs in? I jump off my bed, and
power the terminal down. My token vibrates as the screen goes dim.

Mom stares at me. “I wasn’t going to make you login, Aria.
I am here to help. I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a baby doctor,” I tease.

Mom grins at me. “Yes, but I make house calls. I know this
area and beyond far better than most adults, let alone teenagers.”

Mom often shares stories of her adventures. Like the time
she ended up two towns away and had to spend the night at someone’s house
because of the storms. She is right. She knows the area and the people better
than anyone does.

“I’ll do it later. After dinner.” I glance at the screen one
last time.

My mother links an arm through mine with an amused look on
her face.

“What?” I comb my fingers through my hair. My locks aren’t
naturally curly like hers, but the result of lying in bed is hair resembling
tumbleweeds.

“You look different.” She folds down my shirt collar. “More
mature.”

 I press my shoulders back, making me slightly taller than
her. “I do?”

“How did you grow up so fast?” she asks.

“I wish I could have stayed fifteen forever,” I say.

“We all do,” she says.

We share a quiet chuckle and continue down the stairs to
the rest of the family. Classical music fills the air as we approach the dining
area. Dad’s choice, not mine.

Sebastian
and Viviane sit at the table. I take my spot between my mom and Baby in her
highchair. The round table makes us equal. There is no head or foot, only parts
of a circle. We hold hands to thank the forest and the farms for our food and
begin to eat.

I tell them about my journey to the post office, including
the old women behind the desks and glass window. My parents exchange stories
about their sixteen birthdays, and how the same women were there. I finish
telling them about the crazy man I met, whom they also know.

“He’s always in the park, honey,” Mom says. “Don’t worry
about him.”

“But what about his words?” I ask. “He said the end of the
world is near. Is that true?”

“The end of the world is old news,” Mom says. “It happened
centuries ago. We have a new world. This one isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yea, but we may be,” Sebastian says. “The way the
algorithm is producing turquoise tokens, we may all have to kill one another. We
may never have families of our own.” Sebastian grabs Vanessa’s hand and
squeezes it.

Mom glares at Sebastian. Not at him, through him as if
she’s contemplating his words. “Regulator Krish told me something odd today,”
she says, her attention now on Dad. “He told me that if people were to stop
procreating, then everyone could live forever.”

“That’s true,” Dad says. “Thank goodness the Regulators
cannot break the algorithm. Professor Barstow was a brilliant scientist.” Dad
touches Baby on the head. She takes his finger and chews it. “Because we may
not have Baby.”

Regulator Krish’s words sit in my gut. I make a mental note
to find out more about Regulator Krish. His days may be numbered. Just thinking
about killing a Regulator has me chasing a carrot with my fork.

“Are you alright, Aria?” Mom asks.

I raise my eyebrows and take in a big whiff of the roast. It’s
time to change the subject.

“How was your day, Mom?”

 “You don’t want to hear about that.” Mom saws her meat
rigorously. I want to hear about it. I can’t help but wonder if the blonde boy
was at the debriefing.

“What is Clarkhaven house like?” Viviane asks. “I hear it’s
made of gold and the Regulators travel around in horse drawn chariots.”

Mom laughs. “That’s not entirely wrong. They definitely
live a more affluent lifestyle than we do. With age comes power and wealth and
they are the oldest here. It is no fault of their own. Kalstein Barstow calculated
their positions a long time ago, even before they were born.”

“Will they ever die?” Viviane eyes go wide, as if she’s
contemplating a life as a Regulator. A tender touch from Sebastian brings her
back to reality.

Many hundreds of years ago, scientists genetically modified
our DNA creating super humans. Our organs regenerate when they get old. We heal
ourselves, presumably an infinite number of times. We all know our immortality
is the reason we receive our tokens. 

An underground coalition of scientists is supposedly trying
to reverse the DNA modifications. Immortality reversed so that we don’t have to
kill one another anymore. I wonder what the original scientists would have
thought about the outcome of their experiments. We are no longer immortal, for
we have to one another other to survive. I don’t agree with the system, but we
can’t change it. Not even the Regulators can change it.

Mom tilts her head. “The Regulators won’t ever die, Viviane.”
Mom focuses on the yellow tulips in the middle of the table. A side of her
mouth turns up in a smile. “Unless someone kills them,” she adds.

I cover my bracelet and feel a heat rise up from my wrist
through my arm, to my neck and face. I have to kill a Regulator. Mom doesn’t
know my secret. I am positive. By the way she looks at Dad, she’s into her own
dangerous fantasy. I decide to change the subject again.

“The blonde boy. Was he at the debriefing?” I ask.

“That poor family with the baby,” Mom says. “You should
have seen them at the debriefing. Heartbroken. Especially the girl. I delivered
a perfect baby boy, so soft and warm.” Mom glances at Baby and pauses. Dad pats
Mom’s hand. She looks wearily into his eyes. For the first time, I see bags
under hers. 

“Blonde?” Dad turns quizzically to Mom. He doesn’t want her
to reflect on the gruesome details of that night.

“Yes, he was there.” Mom focuses back on me. “An articulate
young man, but devious. I don’t trust him and neither should you. He’s already
been through three tokens.”

My mouth gapes open. If you kill someone with a token, you
have to take his or her token to kill someone else. He has a turquoise. In the
privacy of our rooms, my brother and I have ranted against the token system. It
all seems so unfair, but there is little we can do about it.

“I remember reading about him in the token death list.” Dad
taps his spoon against his glass. “Good looking fellow, even with the blonde
hair. What an unusual color. And his eyes. Light blue eyes that glared at me
right through the Flatpad. Frightening.”

Mom sneers. “He killed the Enroy boy.”

“Jamus’s kid?” Dad asks.

“Enroy’s a tool,” Sebastian says.

“Sebastian, don’t talk about the dead that way,” Dad says.

“Sorry Dad. He was a tool. Everyone knows it.” Sebastian
pushes away from the table. “Burke’s not the only one who has killed more than
once.”

We all stare at him in silence. Even Viviane covers her
mouth with her hands. I watch his every move, wondering if he’s going to dash
out the door again.

“Sebastian?” Dad and Mom ask at the same time.

“It’s Aria’s birthday.” Sebastian moves closer to the table
again. “Let’s not forget.” He clamps his mouth shut and folds his arms across
his chest.

I put a potato in my mouth and chew. I can’t taste it. My
mind is elsewhere. It prevents me from having to speak. Sebastian has killed
more than one person. I thought he still had his token, but he doesn’t. He has
someone else’s token. Someone he killed.

“When did it happen?” I ask.

Sebastian lowers his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I think about all the nights he has been gone in the last year
and a half. Maybe
when
was the wrong question. I should have asked
how
many.
A chill crosses my neck and I reach for it instinctively, as if I can
catch the cold air in my hands.

“Sorry, honey.” Mom glances from Sebastian to Dad.

Dad reaches over the table and grabs Sebastian’s wrist.
“You are good. You are kind. Don’t think about the past. Think about the
future.” He takes Viviane’s hand, places it on Sebastian’s and presses them
together.

  Sebastian pulls out the chain around his neck and shoves
his token in Dad’s face. “The future? Like the person I’m going to kill next?”
He rises from the table. “Sorry, Aria. I can’t take this anymore.” He pulls
Viviane up. “Let me get you home.”

With a short goodbye, Viviane and Sebastian leave me with
my parents.

“This is a great meal, Dad.” I smile and put another potato
in my mouth.

Dad reaches behind him to the buffet where his violin
rests. Mom grits her teeth. He catches her expression, and as if his violin is
on fire, he pulls his hand away.

Mom gets up from the table. “Wait. I have something for
you.”  

She goes to the closet and brings out a big box wrapped in
flowered paper. Dad moves my bowl and Mom places the box in front of me. It all
seems so rushed. I feel like they’re trying to pull a magic trick on me. Now
you see it, now you don’t. I half-expect Sebastian to appear in his chair
again.

I touch the ribbon, which reminds me of the other present I
unwrapped earlier.

“Open your present.” Mom taps on the box in frustration.
Dad goes for his violin. A glare from Mom won’t stop him now.

I take a deep breath and smile at my parents. No words can
replace the empty feeling we all feel with Sebastian’s departure. I pull on the
bow of my gift and slide my finger under the wrapping paper, trying to make the
best of the worst day of my life.

My eyes glow when I see what lays inside. I catch Mom’s
grin as I pull out a leather vest she wore when she was my age, the one that
hangs in the back of her closet for no one else to touch except her. I’ve tried
it on many of time in her absence. When I was young, she’d leave me notes in
the pockets because she knew what I did. The notes were always loving and dear.

“Try it on.” Mom stands and helps me in it.

The soft leather, worn from so many years of use, feels at
once comforting. My hands glide into the pocket, as they did when I was young. There,
I find a red pocketknife with a cross on it and a miniature flute.

I turn to Dad. “A flute?”

He blushes. “Something that kept me calm on my many nights
alone when I was in camp. I hope you find the tone as soothing.”

“I’m sure I will, Dad.” I blow into the flute. The noise
comes out more like a high-pitched squeal than anything resembling music.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dad looks embarrassed. “It takes
practice.”

His tone is so sad that I hug him. “It’ll be alright, Dad,”
I say in his arms. “I’ll come home from camp safe.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Dad says. “I’m worried you
won’t be you anymore.” He glances at the door and I know he’s thinking of
Sebastian. I am, too.

“I’ll always be me, Dad.” I turn to my mom, take the pocketknife,
and open a blade. “What’s this for, Mom?”

“Survival,” she says. “Just in case. You should be able to conceal
it in your uniform. Keep it with you at all times.”

“I thought kids weren’t allowed to kill until after camp,”
I say.

“True,” Mom says. “The kids can’t but the counselors can—if
they still have their tokens.”

“This is about the blonde boy, isn’t it?” I ask. “He’s a
counselor. You think he’d kill me?”