As I put my bag down and made my way to the middle where everyone was standing, Paulo stopped. “Wait!” he said to the Guardian we had just spoken to. I was confused—was he having second thoughts? I had a sudden fear that he may have changed his mind. That he was going to make me stay. A tiny part of me flickered like the blue flame on a gas burner, not warmth, just the inkling of the idea of heat. Did he actually care about me?
Paulo spoke to the man for a few seconds. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but the Guardian nodded and handed him an envelope. The flame was snuffed out in an instant, leaving a blackened, cold ring. The money. He was securing his payment for my early surrender. I returned my eyes to the center circle.
There were only a few of us milling around. The circle’s large, paved sandstone ground and elaborate design was so out of place amongst the rest of Pau, which was concrete, plastic, and air conditioning. The center podium was darker than the rest of the stonework. Too much blood they could never quite get rid of, no matter how hard they scrubbed. I think, now, they put plastic sheeting down to protect it. Dark and light stones alternated from the center circle, like the circle was the sun and dotted stone lines radiated out from it like rays of light.
Everyone else had taken his or her place near the helicopters. I couldn’t see Joseph but I knew he must be there. No matter how hard I tried he was always there, in the back of my mind, threatening to unhinge me. I needed strength at this point, not the heart-skipping vulnerability that kept creeping into my head.
The helicopters were stationed at the rim of Ring One, just inside the low, sandy-colored wall that surrounded the center podium. They were waiting, crouching like black angels ready to lift us from this place, this hell, into an unknown world. A Guardian in black uniform with gold trim walked to the front of the choppers and signaled for us to come forward. Another one threw the bags in the cargo hold as he read from his list. Three girls and eight boys. Joseph’s name was not on the list. I felt a flood of relief that was washed away by panic. I was barely holding myself together as it was, seeing him was liable to make me fall to pieces. But he was supposed to be here.
Paulo’s hand was on my back, pushing me towards the helicopter like I was an uncooperative apple on the conveyor belt. I was trying so hard to muster up some courage. Today I was leaving the only home I had ever known. I would never see my mother again. I felt the anxiety rising, the crushing pain of the separation I was about to suffer. Suddenly the grey-washed town didn’t look so horrible. It was home after all, I guess. I told myself it was fear that was making me feel this way. It didn’t help.
My mother, who had been quietly following us around like a dazed puppy, pulled me to her in a tight embrace. She whispered, “Sorry,” in my ear before stepping back, fists clenched, showing the appropriate restraint. Some other mothers were crying and holding their children as the Guardian wrenched them away and led them onto the aircraft.
My mother’s face was my own, the way she moved mirrored my own movements and mannerisms, but that’s where the similarities ended. Although raised by this woman, I was nothing like her. For the first time, I saw things from her perspective. Getting into trouble all the time, never showing Paulo anything other than contempt. I must have been such a frustration to her.
They called my name. Paulo put his hands firmly on my shoulders, holding me in my place. His intense stare was impossible to look away from. “Don’t shame your family,” he spat at me. And with that, he made it easy to leave. I could feel the blades starting to move, my hair whipping around my face. I stripped away the fear and anxiety, leaving a girl that was fierce, empowered by his hatred.
“Don’t worry, Paulo, I’ll stir it up, make a little noise!” I shouted through the wind. The Guardian that let me sign up was watching me, probably regretting his decision. My mother was standing rigidly, her handmade skirt billowing as the air churned around her, her hand outstretched, pleading. I could see it in her eyes—please Rosa, don’t cause more trouble. She couldn’t stop me, no one ever could. Paulo was already walking away, his back to me. Behind my mother stood a man, one blue eye, one brown, smiling. He lifted his hand to wave. I raised my hand, confused. The chopper lurched awkwardly and I was knocked back into the cargo hold.
“Sit down!” the Guardian snapped at me. I quickly found a spot and strapped myself in. The others were staring at me, eyes wide. The Guardian tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Wait, there’s one more.”
He bounded in, bag in hand, and casually threw it on the pile and scanned the seats. There was plenty of room on the other side but he squeezed his bulky form between me and the boy I was sitting next to.
Suddenly we were in the air. When the Guardian wasn’t looking, Joseph slipped his hand over mine. Warmth calmed the agitation I felt, like pouring gold over lead, glowing. We stayed that way the entire ride. Eyes forward. Impossibly trying to anticipate what may lie ahead.
Soon we would be at the Classes. A new life awaited us. We must sit the Test and then we would be allocated an occupation to train for. It was excitement dredged in terror. If I could get into something decent, I could change my fate, to a degree anyway, but if I messed up, the principal would be right about me. The Superiors would still decide which town I would be sent to, but what I would do, once I was there, was yet to be determined.
The air was freezing cold up here but I found it exhilarating, like plunging into ice water. The door was open and we could look down to the world below. I could tell Joseph was taking it in too. The vastness of the Woodlands was surprising. From up here, the Rings looked like beautiful ancient structures, somewhat alien given the surroundings, as though they were dropped there from outer space. I could see all eight of them. Pau Brasil, Banyan, Casuarina, Bagassa, Iroko, Palma, Birchton and Radiata. Each named after common trees from the four countries or continents from which we all originated: India, Brasil, Russia, and Africa. They were evenly spaced out with the Superiors’ dwellings in their own town in the center.
I was not prepared for two things. We were always taught every citizen of the Woodlands was treated the equally, that all the towns were the same, including the Superior dwellings. What we could see from the air was that the Superiors’ town had only one ring. It had hills and fields, pockets of water, and randomly scattered around this huge, open space were the compounds of the Superiors.
The other thing that came as a surprise was the Wilderness itself. I couldn’t believe the sheer density of it. The forest was pressed up against the sides of every town, threatening to break down the walls and swallow it in green. It was strange, considering there was very little plant life within the walls—only one type of tree and some grass.
There were no roads, no cleared space between one town and the next. No wonder they airlifted us out. I was peering through the tiny spaces in the foliage, my eyes finding a river, white rocks glistening in the sun, when I saw a Guardian slap the helmet of the pilot, quite hard. I don’t think we were supposed to see all that. The helicopter veered away from the concrete rings sharply. The Classes were located away from the towns. I took Joseph’s hand in mine, curling my fingers between his, and squeezed. He squeezed back, his blonde hair sweeping back and forth in front of his eyes as he stared out across the sky. I know he didn’t want to show it, but I’m sure he was as nervous as I was.