I’m surprised when the scruffy boy, whose name turns out to be Roman, finishes before me and has the same answer as mine. Annalise’s answer also matches. Brick’s does not.
One by one we work through the problems in the book. A history section that requires dates, names, and population sizes for the colonization of the United Commonwealth. A biology question that asks for the DNA mapping of a rock wolverine that resembles a wolf but is actually a mutated version of a Nebelung cat. While I’m answering the question about solar power, the red light turns green. Our Testing can begin at any time. Maybe the pressure of the light distracts me from fully concentrating on the last problem that details the principles of nuclear weaponry. I’m the last one in the group to complete the final question. Brick is first to finish. His answer agrees with the other two. My answer matches no one’s.
Out of five questions, my answers match at least one of the others four times. Annalise also gets four matches. Brick matches answers on two. Roman’s first answer is his only correct one.
“Guess that means I go first, right?” he says.
Of the members of the group, I am by far the youngest. At home my natural inclination would be to hear everyone else’s opinions before offering mine, but something about his enthusiasm rubs me the wrong way. So instead of waiting, I say, “The Testing official didn’t say the problems have to be completed in order. We just have to determine the order the members of our group go in to solve the problems.”
Roman folds his arms across his chest and scowls. “That’s not what I heard.”
I look at Annalise. She chews her bottom lip and closes her eyes as though trying to recall the exact words. When her eyes open, they’re filled with apology. “I think Roman could be right. We could try it another way, but if we do we could fail. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”
Roman smiles. Brick shrugs and nods. Three against one. Just like that the discussion is over.
Annalise leads the decision making. Roman will answer the first problem. She will answer the second and third. I will answer the fourth, Brick the fifth. I suggest that I might be better suited to the third question since my father’s work has given me a strong understanding of genetics, but Roman and Annalise disagree. Brick refuses to give an opinion. Part of me wonders why as Roman gets up and says, “See you all after the test.” He turns the handle on the green-lit door and walks out without a backwards glance.
The light turns red, and we wait.
At first, we try to chat. Annalise asks Brick about his home, and we learn he’s from Roswell Colony. His parents are both University graduates. They work at a former military facility where together they develop weapons and security methods for colonies plagued by animal attacks. No wonder he excelled at the nuclear science question.
As the minutes tick by, though, our conversation becomes more stilted. There is more time in between questions. Shorter answers. Until we no longer talk. We just wait for the light to change.
There is no clock. No windows to measure the movement of the sun. No way to know if the time that passes is as long as it feels. My shoulder muscles tighten. I see Annalise roll out the tension in her neck. Brick is the only one who appears unfazed by the long wait.
He closes his eyes.
Annalise gnaws on her thumbnail.
I stretch my muscles.
Every minute feels like ten. Never do I lose sight of the light.
Finally, it changes. Annalise stands and smiles. “My turn. I bet I can do both my problems in less time than it took for Roman to do his.”
“Don’t rush,” I warn, and I feel my face flush as I realize my words could imply criticism. “We’re okay waiting,” I say. “Take as long as you need.”
Annalise’s smile fades as her eyes meet mine. In their depths I see nerves and a touch of fear lurking behind the bravado that I have in this short time come to admire. Then the smile is back as she nods. “I promise to kick butt on questions two and three. The rest is up to the two of you.”
The door closes. The red light returns. So does the silence.
Brick sits unmoving. His calm, silent demeanor has the opposite effect on me. I stand and pace the room as my stomach begins to growl. I am certain it is far past lunchtime. It is obvious that no meals will be provided until this test is complete. And maybe that’s part of the test—to see if candidates will stay focused despite the desire for food.
My mother always insisted I eat everything on my plate on mornings before important tests. She said the brain and body need fuel to operate at the highest level. I dig through my bag for my stash of food and find myself deciding between a roll filled with raisins and nuts, and an apple. Since the roll is easier to split with Brick, I start to pull it out when I realize they are two of the items I selected for dinner the first night of The Testing. I count back the days. Less than a week has passed, but everything has changed since that night when the four of us from Five Lakes arrived and took our table. Now Malachi is gone and I am working in a group with the boy who tripped him. Did Roman stick out his leg for spite? For fun? Did he think it would intimidate Malachi into doing less well on the exams, thereby giving Roman a better chance of passing? Maybe. Roman only got one answer correct today. How smart can he be? The work he did on the final problem was so illogical I found it hard to believe he had made it through the first two tests.
Wait.
I reach for the booklet marked with the X and the circle. Roman’s handwriting is neater than I would have suspected based on his appearance. Hearing my mother’s voice warn not to let appearances deceive me, I read through the pages of numbers and formulas for the first problem. The work impresses me. While I also got the correct answer, Roman was able to calculate several steps in his head, which is why he finished first. His work makes it clear why he was chosen for The Testing. He’s smart. Very smart.
Which is why his answers to the other questions make no sense. Gibberish fills those pages. We had all been so concerned with who gave the correct answers to the problems we never bothered to check the pages that preceded the final solution. Roman’s scribbles made one thing obvious. He wasn’t concerned with coming up with the right solutions. He was just wasting time. Why?
“Cia.”
I jump as Brick’s voice breaks the silence and follow his gaze to the light above the door. Green. If I were to make a guess, less than a half hour has passed since Annalise walked through the door. Could she have finished her problems in so little time? Hands shaking, I grab the booklet marked with the other eight-pointed star and start flipping the pages.
Yes. Her writing is clear. Concise. Confident. Her logic shows no flaws that I can see. If anyone could whiz through two tests in far less time than it took another candidate to do one, it would be Annalise. Still . . .
“Are you going to