"Go."
Caitlin leapt up and forward, hitting the ground again a heartbeat later, already running. Scrawny legs propelled her equally scrawny body across the unyielding asphalt, then onto springy black rubber. Her speed meant she bounced up more than ahead on the new surface, but she was prepared for that. Seven bounces brought her to the bottom of the aluminum tube.
Nimble hands and steady feet brought Caitlin to the top of the inclined tube. She ducked her head to clear the edge of the aluminum, continuing the motion into a roll. Her tailbone smacked hard plastic and she flattened out, sliding down the spiral slide. Static crackled at her braid, giving her a corona of loose blond hairs.
As her feet dangled over the edge, she felt the thump of someone hitting the slide with much greater force than she had. The impact drove her off the end and on to more springiness, where she landed in a compact crouch before running and hitting the fence with her fist, panting.
"Impressive," a voice said, just as an older boy slammed his own fist into the fence.
Nicholas stepped into the sunlight. "Impressive," the fifth-grader repeated, in the same dryly-amused tone. "One first-grader, a Monitor Brat no less, ran across the playground, up the inside of the tube-slide, down the spiral slide and over to the fence in precisely three point four seven seconds less than a taller, longer-legged third-grader. Explain, Timmy?"
Timmy shook his head. "No excuse, sir!"
Nicholas laughed lightly. "Are you going to let a first-grade girl beat you, Timmy?"
"No sir!" Timmy replied.
"Then run around the playground twice," Nicholas instructed.
Timmy started running, and Nicholas laughed again. "Thank you, Caitlin, my dear."
Caitlin grinned. "Any time. I do get your chocolate pudding at lunch, right?"
"No," Nicholas said, and paused for effect. "You get Timmy's."
Caitlin laughed. "Just so long as I get mine," she replied, cheerfully.
Nicholas nodded solemnly. "You keep my boys on their toes, I see to it that you have plenty of pudding whenever you want it."
Caitlin grinned and patted her monitor, feeling the slight shock as she did so. "Tell 'em the monitor is really a rocket pack."
Nicholas laughed, with true humor this time. "Then they wouldn't be so shamed!"
Caitlin smirked and was about to reply, but the bell rang, signaling the end of recess. With a brief nod to the older boy, she sprinted to get into the line for her class.
It's truly a good relationship for both of us, Caitlin mused as she waited for her class to be waved ahead. Nicholas intimidates his "boys" for free, and I get a good workout - which I'll need if the Fleet takes me - plus good pudding, since maman is too cheap to let me bring a lunch. Not that the school lunch is bad, necessarily...
Finally, Caitlin's line passed through the metal detector. I know they're frightened of some schizoid deviant with a knife or a gun, but sending grade-schoolers through metal detectors is just not the way to keep anyone safe!
She froze as a heavy adult hand rested on her shoulder. Meeep. Did my irreverence show on my face? Was I anything less than respectful?
But it was only Mr. Danyai, the school nurse. "Come with me, please, Caitlin," he said gruffly.
Caitlin sat on the examination table, silently enduring the reflex tests, the booster shots, the throat culture, and the other activities of a small child's physical. Finally, Mr. Danyai left for a moment, returning with his assistant and an evil-looking device that vaguely resembled a corkscrew.
"Good news, Caitlin," Mr. Danyai said, all too cheerfully. "You're in very good health for your age, excellent reflexes, all that."
Caitlin tensed, waiting for the inevitable bad news.
"And best of all, today we're taking out that annoying monitor. No more shocks when you roll on the playground, no more tingle when you shower," Mr. Danyai continued.
Caitlin's face froze in horror. Take the monitor out? I failed the testing? God, no...
Mr. Danyai was either oblivious or indifferent to Caitlin's expression. "So if you'll lie on your stomach, there, we'll take it out. They are designed to be removed, after all. You'll probably have some side effects... perhaps some tingling, your hands might shake for a day or so, and nearly every child reports a feeling of something missing, something that you urgently need to find though you can't remember what you lost. All of that will go away."
Caitlin lay flat, trying hard not to shiver. I wasn't not good enough... well, at least I kept it this long, I was probably in the very last group of culls. She felt a twisting at the skin of her neck, then a slight chill. The chill increased, and she shivered, more and more violently. Her teeth chattered. Her eyes widened in terror. Then there was a sharp sting in her thigh and soothing, blissful warmth spread through her body, dissipating the chill and calming her trembling.
"You can sit up now, Caitlin."
Caitlin frowned. Sit up. That means something...
"Are you all right? Say something."
Say something. Right, he needs me to tell him I'm all right.
"Unnnngh. M'aiight." Caitlin groaned, helpfully.
"Ms. Klutrin, keep an eye on her. If she doesn't start moving in thirty minutes, call her mother and get permission to send her over to Harborview. If you need me, I'll be in the main office, dealing with sniffles, upset stomachs, and scraped knees."
Caitlin managed to walk back to her classroom ten minutes later, a little unsteady. She reached out to open the door, then paused. I left something... lost something... but what?
Ms. Klutrin opened the door for her, helpfully. "There's your classroom, dearie."
Mr. Lund smiled. "Come in, Caitlin, we were just finishing the last page of The Kitty-Cat's Got No Hats."
Caitlin walked in, but then stopped hesitantly.
"Your seat is right here, Caitlin. Are you feeling all right?"
Caitlin nodded. "Just a little dizzy, Mr. Lund." She sat at her desk, running her fingers across the cool screen inset into the metal furniture, ignoring the murmurs around her.
Danyai had spoken the truth - the tingly, lost feeling was gone by the time the last bell rang. She logged out of her desk and ran for the door, hoping to get out to the playground in time to see Nicholas.
As she scrambled down the stairs to the asphalt, she spotted the older boy with a circle of youngers. "Nicholas!" she yelled, sprinting towards him.
Nicholas paused whatever he was doing and turned to greet her. "Caitlin... I'm sorry. I heard about your monitor."
She nodded sharply. "That's not important anymore. I want you to cut my hair."
"What?" Nicholas asked, surprised. "Cut your braid off?"
Caitlin nodded again. "I know Maman won't notice that the monitor's gone. I want to give her something she'll recognize."
Nicholas smiled sadly. "All right, let me finish assigning errands and I'll cut it for you."
Caitlin sat on one of the benches, patiently. Finally Nicholas walked over, and took a crude ceramic knife from his backpack. "Hold still," he instructed.
Despite the warning, Caitlin barely kept herself from flinching as the older boy roughly sliced through her braid. When he was done, he handed the severed hair to her. "Well, you'll certainly look different without that braid reaching your waist," he commented dryly. "Anything else?"
Caitlin nodded a third time. "I want to be one of your "boys", Nicholas. The IF doesn't want me, and you know I'm good. I'm small, I'm quiet, and I'm willing to do whatever you need."
Nicholas frowned deeply. "Let me think about it. Give me until Monday, all right, Caitlin?"
But that's four days! Caitlin wanted to protest, but said, instead, "Yes, sir!" just as Nicholas's "boys" did.
Caitlin lay on the floor of the tiny apartment she called home, mindlessly doodling on her desk. As soon as she heard the clatter of keys, she oriented herself so that her lack of hair would be obvious from the door.
Surely enough, as soon as Maman came in, she gasped. "Caitlin, sweet, whatever did you do to your hair?" she exclaimed.
Caitlin sat up, rubbing a fist across her eyes. "They took out my monitor, maman."
Maman shook her head. "Well, I guess they aren't as all-knowing as they think. I know my precious little girl is better than any of their other candidates. After all, I did specify that your paternal genes were to come from someone with a doctorate." She bent to place a hand on her daughter's head. "Have you eaten dinner, sweet?"
Caitlin nodded. "I thawed the last of the chicken fingers, and heated some of the tater tots." She pointed. "There's some sitting in the microwave still."
Maman smiled. "Thank you, sweet."
Caitlin returned to doodling, as her mother prepared her own dinner and sat in front of the television. All the news and entertainment she could want on her desk, and she watches that box, passively, like she was addicted to the light impulses. That's a thought. Maybe she is.
Caitlin woke up the next morning with a painful crick in her neck. He said tingling. Didn't say anything about a persistent ache. Maybe I'm just unusual. But not unusual enough to be accepted.
Maman's alarm - the noise that had awoken her - was still buzzing in the next room. Caitlin sat up in bed, reaching up to braid her hair... then realized that there wasn't much hair left to braid anymore. What's done is done.
She was dressed and eating cereal at the kitchen table by the time Maman emerged from her own room. "I'm going to be home early tonight, sweet, so perhaps we could eat out together," Maman suggested.
Caitlin smiled, a movement of the mouth only, no feeling behind it. "I'd like that, maman."
As Maman started the coffeemaker, the door chimed. "I'll get it, sweet," she said, and opened it, only to find a young man in the sky-blue uniform of the International Fleet. "What can I do for you, officer?" she asked, worried.
"Are you the mother of Caitlin Emory?" the man asked.
"Y-yes, she's right over there," Maman replied.
"May I come in?" the man asked, a touch of irony in his voice. Maman nodded and stepped aside.
"Caitlin, I've come to ask you to come to Battle School," the officer told her, squatting down to be at her eye level. He opened his mouth to explain more, but Caitlin interrupted. "I'll go, sir."