Page 3 - My FlipBook

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I shouldn’t have to be here. All week, I told Ma the same
thing: I’d rather stick my face into a fire pit than go to the
Waterday Festival. Yet here I am, weaving through the throng of
people, my right hand latched onto the strap of Ma’s shoulder
bag to avoid losing her in the crowd. The sweet scent of sugar

dough mixes with the savory aroma of warm spices in the air,
but my stomach is too busy churning to eat.
“This is a mess,” I mutter, shouldering past a guy pushing a
honey-straw cart. A little girl holding an armful of overflowing
water jugs skips past, and a few droplets slosh onto my sleeve.
I wipe it off, but quickly slam my hand back to my pant leg so
the passerby can’t glimpse the brands on my palm.
“It’s tradition,” Ma replies, giving me a half-smile. She takes
a bite from a sweet roll and offers it to me, but I shake my head.
“You can’t miss the celebration.”
She says it lightheartedly, but the undertone is there; I
can’t miss the Waterday celebration, because it’s mandatory
for every Trinnean to attend. No one’s allowed to leave the

festival until the Leader gives his address. I have to scan my
thumbprint again before I leave, so no one can say I skipped

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