Read Online The Woodlands by Lauren Nicolle Taylor - Free Book Online Page B

and determined. I had to make this work. I had to make a better life for myself. Anything would better than this. I combed my long, brown hair back into a ponytail and tied the allowable silver ribbon around it. A memory of strong hands straightening my uniform and tightening my ribbon swaddled my consciousness. Not now.
    I looked tired, dark circles under my eyes. I wondered if Joseph would be there, feeling a sharp punch to my chest. I decided I wouldn ’t care if he was there or not. Hilarious that I thought I could decide such a thing. We weren’t going to be in the same class so it didn’t matter. But it did. It mattered so much more than I could ever admit to myself, bringing with it a crippling, doubling-over feeling of pain. No, I wouldn’t care. I couldn’t.
    When I walked out to the living area, my mother had composed herself. She had put on her best coat and also tied her hair back tightly into a bun, tiny slivers of silver showing through her dark brown mane. My bag sat open by the door, packed with clean clothes, with about five pens poking out of one of the pockets.
    “ Thank you,” I said, trying to sound normal, unruffled, but my voice was quivering. I wanted to pat her arm but my hand was shaking so I left it where it was, by my side, as hers were. We stood looking at each other. Mother went to say something but the sound of the door being unlatched stopped her.
    “ I forgot my jacket.” An oily voice slipped through the crack in the door.
    Paulo arrived and surveyed the room. His eyes landed on the bag and he quickly put it together. “Well,” he said, exultant. “We’d better get you to Ring One.” He swiftly picked up my bag, zipped it up, and threw it over his shoulder. I put my shoes on and had to run to catch up with him as he energetically strode down the front path. He almost looked like he was skipping. I suppressed a giggle. My mother locked the door and walked briskly behind us, hugging the papers to her chest. I looked behind me at the rows of grey houses—each one identical. I wouldn’t miss this bleak, nothing of a town. Our neighbor eyed us curiously as my mother and I struggled to keep up with Paulo’s cracking pace, watering the pavement instead of his lawn.
    We passed through the gates to Ring Two in silence. As we approached the gate for Ring One, Paulo spoke.
    “ Rosa, you need to line up at the Class administration building. Esther, you can get her bags checked, and I will talk to the transports and see if they will have any room.” Paulo’s hatred was actually proving useful to me that day as he quickly and efficiently guided us through the steps we needed to take to get me on that transport and out of his life forever.
    I don ’t think Paulo really needed to worry. There were two helicopters and only about ten scuttly teenagers getting ready to go. They were dressed in their school uniforms. All looked very nervous—fiddling with their jumpers, chewing on their fingernails. One girl bawled hysterically as her parents held and tried to console her. Everyone was staring at them. It was not normal to show emotion like this in public. Others were shaking hands with their fathers and giving their mothers light pecks on the cheeks. I scanned the area. There were two tables set up, one where they were checking identification and taking paperwork, and the other with twelve small bags with oversized, yellow stickers on them piled underneath. The stickers carried ID numbers. I walked to the first table and handed in my paperwork. They scanned my wrist.
    “ You’re sixteen,” the man said, raising his eyebrow dubiously as he looked me up and down.
    “ My mother, Esther Amos, is pregnant, so I am entitled to leave with this intake,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. He was young, mid-twenties maybe, muscular and stiff, with a pudgy face that looked odd atop his fit body.
    Unsettled by my attitude, he muttered, irritated, “You’re not on the list. Move aside,”