Page 10 - My FlipBook

M ER ED ITH T A TE

I click my communicator; the time flashes across the
screen. The Leader’s address should begin soon. Then I can
go home. I wish I could get excited about Waterday like ev-
eryone else. But I’m not like everyone else, as they’re always so
quick to remind me. The burns on my palms make that super
clear. In a few years, those two kids entranced by my stories
probably won’t even give me the time of day.
More and more people flood into the small space, elbowing
through each other to gawk at the various stands. Stagnant

heat floats between the tightly-packed bodies, tainting the
sweet aroma of bread with the stench of body odor. I squirm,
keeping my arms tight at my sides.
“They should let Blanks into town for this,” a passing guy
says to his friend. My ears perk. Blanks are so rarely allowed in
Trinnea, they’d never guess one is standing right next to them.
I’m here legally, but they won’t care. As far as they know, I’m
a Blank, and Blanks don’t deserve to live within the city walls.
I don’t dare move a muscle.
“Why’s that?” asks his friend.
He flicks a napkin to the ground. “To clean up the mess
afterward. Not like anyone else is lining up to do it.”
I press my palms harder against my legs. I wish I was al-

lowed to wear my gloves. The two guys break into laughter
and shoulder through the crowd. I hate this.
“I think I’m gonna go catch my breath for a moment,” I say.
Ma’s brow creases. “Are you all right?”
No. “Yeah. I’ll be by my bike.”
Before she can respond, I’m plowing away from Center
Square, back to the edges where the crowd thins.

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