Pay Attention

“Are you paying attention?” I look up, I’m in health class. “I asked are you paying attention?” It’s Mr. Nibbons, he staring at me with a ruler in his hand. Was he going to hit me with it, in front of the class? He knows how dangerous that is. “Young lady! Are…you…listening to me?”

Mr. Nibbons voice cracks as he starts to hunch over, skin turning grey, clothes shedding to reveal a black dress. Where once stood Mr. Nibbons was my grandmother, giving me a grin. “If you don’t start listening to me about these tests, you’re going to be daydreaming in them instead.”

She hugs me, she smells of peppermint and chocolate, always carrying both in her pockets. When she pulls back, I look into her eyes. They have always been so black, and today they're sucking the melanin off my skin. “Well baby, it’s time to heed my words, so you listen good child.” Her black southern accent cuts deep. “Tests built to get inside your head determine what type of women you are to society, and to break through that barrier hiding what kind of mother you are. The most important thing is for you to follow your instinct.”

I start to feel confused, there’s nothing my mother hasn’t taught me assist me in the tests. Why is grandma trying to sike me out on my own mother? She starts to speak faster as if there is a time limit, “ Have a clear head, don’t let your mind stray away from the test, secrets can be revealed. Live for yourself, you are able to determine your fate.”

On cue my alarm goes off breaking me out of the dream world, my grandmother hasn’t visited me in years. It’s odd how she chose the morning of the biggest day of my life to visit my dreams again. It’s sort of comforting as I stare up at the black mesh canopy through to the marble ceiling. Have a clear head, don’t let your mind stray… secrets… revealed, live for yourself, you… determine your fate. Grandmother told me those same exact words just before she passed. It was such an odd day, she looked nervous and wouldn’t sit still. Three weeks later she died, leaving me behind her heart shaped locket inside holding my great grandmother, grandmother, mother and myself.

Rolling over to my side I let out a sigh, focusing on the tests my grandmother despised so much. Today was my turn at the Reaping Test. My whole life has been built for this day, most importantly the last two years leading me here. I have been attached to my mother’s hip since I turned sixteen, learning and mimicking everything she does to be a proper woman of society and a wonderful mother. This test is so important and takes so much focus, I don’t even have time to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

A hard knock at the door breaks through my concentration, immediately the double doors rattle together locked from the night before. Mr. Nibbons and I had our last late-night meeting. I groan, how could I have forgotten to unlock my door after two years of a routine?

“Anastazia?! Why’s this door locked?” My mother calls, I thought it was going to be a positive, eventful day, but it seems I have underestimated my stupidity. “ I have allowed you fifteen extra minutes of rest and you repay me by having the door locked?”

“I’m sorry mum,” I think quick, knowing to be careful with what I say. “ I was so tired last night, I forgot to unlock the doors. We worked so hard on all those cakes for the neighborhood. Crazy.”

I rush to the doors to unlock them; my mother doesn’t hesitate to pull them open. She grabs my face pushing it around examining every inch. She did this every morning to ensure I’ve gotten enough sleep or haven’t snuck out; her clairvoyance hasn't figured out my secrets. “We don’t use the word crazy, and you cannot be forgetting these details. What if you have a daughter? She needs to know the importance of keeping the doors unlocked.”

“Yes, so the parents can come rushing in to "help,"” I roll my eyes as I walk over to my closet. “Most things the child can’t do are for the parents to be able to do.”

“Don’t be giving attitude to me today, you had your chance at that two years ago.” She walks to the long-faced windows to throw open the black curtains, allowing the sun to flood the room completely. “How about you decide on something other than black today, honey? It would look nice for a change.”

“Too late for that,” I state, deciding on a white turtleneck, black silk overall skirt and white tennis. I drape the clothes over the curtain. I brush through my nappy hair, questioning if I should wear it natural or covered.

"Straighten your hair, throw on your gold jewelry, a hat or an umbrella,” my mother stands with her hands on her hips looking at me through the mirror. “Happy Birthday Baby! Breakfast is ready downstairs, and you need all the energy you can get.”

* * *

Walking into the testing center the first thing I notice is how quickly the temperature plummeted from outside. It leaves a shiver down my back, Mr. Nibbons’ mastering smile flashes across my face. The gentleman behind the glass window instructs us to sit for it would be a five-minute wait. Immediately after I sit down my mother begins barking as much information as she can last minute.

“Leave the milk jar out the night before, children will cry for any reason. Also, remember to not look in a man’s eyes for too long, unless immediate family.”

“Mom, I know, we have run through it all. I get it,” except I can’t help but think about my grandmas words this morning, you are able to determine your fate. Finally, the clerk calls my name leading me to a corridor with two men. We stop at a door with my name on it, the preparations pertain to detail. I push open the door to be blinded by bright white light that reflects off the walls, the only thing not white was the chair in the middle, which is hot pink. What a disgusting color, “Girls can’t favor black, girls only like pink.” Britney’s voice rings in my head as the memory floats to the surface. Dumb bitch, what does it matter what color you like; you’re encouraged to like pink, but you’re not forced to. Britney always had a problem with my thought process and differences, she can eat my dust. I sit in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair, giving consent to allow my body to be hooked up with wires.

One of the instructors decides to explain the steps of the procedure. “You are about to be sent into the test. I will stick this needle in your neck giving the serum ability to transform your mind. Counting to three will help you transition comfortably.” His raspy voice spits out the words. “Any questions before we begin?”

I shake my head; I have this in the bag, I've been prepared. There is a bit of discomfort as I’m stuck with the needle, a sigh as the liquid seeps. Directly after counting to three, the lights dim out of focus. After some time, I can open my eyes to see a lightly lit room, a dresser, closet, and a bed. Next to one side of the bed is my face smiling next to pale face man. The test must have set up a fake life for me to demonstrate what I know. Little footsteps rush into the room to reveal a beautiful light-skin baby with marble brown eyes. He carries in a train to present to me the colors of the engine, "red, yellow, blue." I can’t help but smile at the child, I have never seen a baby boy, or let alone anyone younger than my dad.

I look at the clock and it reads three forty-five pm. I should start supper for when the man is expected at six, like all the other husbands. I get down to the kitchen to see that everything has been prepared to be cooked, I happily start assembling everything into dishes. It is fifteen minutes to six when a loud crash and a wailing scream come out from the living room. I set down the glazed ham I had just dug out of the oven and rush to the room. The little boy had a big cut on his leg, a lamp lies broken nearby. I rush him to the bathroom there I clean up the wound to be examined. The cut isn’t deep for stitches, I patch him up then set him on the floor. The front door jingles open followed by a slam.

The man of the house walks into the walkway, slurring an ‘I’m home,’ I give a hesitant smile, not sure what to expect. He is about to walk into the dining room when his eye lands on the mess in the living room. He closes his white knuckles into a fist, “What happened to the lamp?”

“I was cooking supper, he was in there playing and had an accident, he now has a cut” I respond to his question diligently. He didn’t like that response at all. Before I could inhale, he was on the child, yelling in his face, questioning how he could let something like this happen. The boy is only two, why was he yelling? This isn’t something mama covered in lessons, nobody did.

I watched in horror as this man stumbled, carrying this screaming child to the next room. I hear the whistle of the man’s belt come out from around his waist. There is a crack; that’s when my body takes over. I grab the closest thing I can find, a fork, and stab him with it. He turns around quickly pushing me, but the scene changes away.

I am no longer in a house but instead standing between desks. A click behind me draws my attention, Mr. Nibbons. “Anastazia, come to my office.”

I follow willingly, knowing what was about to occur. I open my mouth to ask something, but instead, my mouth catches his this isn’t how our meetings usually go, we usually talk first. “Focus Anastazia.” He whispers in my ear turning me on, my body creates its own reaction. Soon I’m lying naked on his desk, him lightly pushing my body up and down, my necklace shifting with each thrust. Its over as quickly as it has begun. I’m no longer in the stimulus, nor surrounded by bright lights; instead, there are more men in lab coats, one steps forward clearing his throat.

“We’re sorry to inform you that when it came to being a proper mother you failed, you allowed your child to be harmed and stabbed your husband.” He pauses before continuing, “We would also like to inform you that when it came to being a woman of society, you have once again failed. It states in the Government handbook that a man is to be allowed pleasure any time, but a woman must stray away from it.”

The man steps back. I can’t believe I failed with only two scenes. Now what do I do? I try to think about the lessons, failing is not covered. A few lab coats step forward, “Due to your failure, you’re to be sent to immediate death. You are seen as not fit for society, and your futuristic ways will damage our hard work.”

I’m dragged off the chair, I kick and scream not knowing where they’re taking me. Will I be able to see my mom one last time? Eat one last meal? A smile comes to my face giving small relief, knowing that grandma is waiting for me