JEFS | Teen Ink

JEFS

February 13, 2019
By abbyA15h BRONZE, Sterling, Massachusetts
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abbyA15h BRONZE, Sterling, Massachusetts
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The author's comments:

This chapter is told from Carmin's point of view. The next one will be from Miles's.

I was back in my fifth- year class, and we were sitting in a large circle. My instructor was sitting in a chair at the head of the circle.

“Alright children. Come up to the front and share something unique about you. Carmin, you go first,” the instructor told us. I marched up to the front of the room proudly and straightened out my dress.

“I sing good,” I stated surely, in my fifth- year talk. My instructor’s eyes widened in fear, but she couldn’t stop me. I opened my mouth and let out the most beautiful melody I could. The sound whisked and swirled through the air like clouds in the sky. It filled the room, making the other children gasp. They had never heard music before. The instructor ran up to me and cupped her hand over my mouth, a look of terror in her eyes. However, she was too late. There was a loud banging on the door, and a deep voice angrily stated, “It’s the police. Open up.”


I gasped, opening my eyes suddenly. It took me a moment to adjust to the light in my room. The first thing I saw were wide eyes peering at me from the dream table.

“Randi, were you watching my dream?” I asked angrily. I didn’t need an answer. I saw the cords attached to her small forehead that looped over to mine. Randi looked down guiltily.

“I’m sorry. You were humming, like you do in your sleep sometimes, and had to see why.” I ripped the suction cups off of my face. They stung, but I barely noticed. I simply couldn’t believe her.

“Well, now you know. Get out of my room.” Poison was dripping from my words.

“Causing conflict is not a good way to start your morning, Carmin,” the thickly accented voice from the speaker scolded authoritatively. I groaned and looked at the red eye. It was plastered above my mirror, looking down on me disapprovingly. I was so sick of having no privacy! I had no time to be alone, away from the judging eyes of the world.

“Apologies, Mother,” I replied robotically. I glared at Randi, huddled in a corner. “Randi, would you be so kind as to give me some…” I scoffed at the word. “Privacy?” Randi stuck her tongue out at me and left. I noticed there was no peace announcement for her. I sighed. I hated fighting with my sister, but I knew if she found out having a talent was not only a dream, she would tell Mother just like she had been taught. Then, I would be cast out, never to be heard from again. I shuddered at the thought.

All of a sudden, I heard a shuffling sound outside, and I rushed over to my window seat to see what was happening. There was a young man, maybe in his twenty- fifth year, dragging a microphone to the center of the cul-de-sac. I gasped, knowing what he was going to do. He marched up to the microphone and started singing. Slow and sweet, not even that loudly. I couldn’t pick out any English words or a specific melody, but I knew that it made me feel calm. I smiled and swayed to the song, until I heard a whistle. Startled, my eyes shot open. A police officer ran up to him and grabbed his arm. “NO!” I screamed, and then covered my mouth. I quickly drew my curtain and covered my mouth with my hand. I had never heard anything so enchanting, so intriguing. And he was going to be punished for it! That just wasn’t fair! Nobody knew what happened to those who used their talents in public, but it was tragic in the event that someone was taken away. Everyone who lived in the cul-de-sac that the mourning family lived in went to the mourning party. It was a sad occasion, almost like a death.

I took a moment to recollect myself, and then frantically asked into the microphone: “Mother?” I heard some static, and then her voice. Not stopping to listen, I blurted, “What happens to people when they show they have a talent in public?” All I heard was white noise. “Mother?”

“Hurry down for breakfast, Carmin. We were sent pumpkin pancakes in honor of the season.” I squinted. She didn’t answer my question, which made me very uneasy.

I smiled slightly as Cheerio walked into my room and licked a couple of tears off of my face. Why was I so upset? I sighed and got up from the windowseat. I might as well get ready for the day. I dressed quickly into my usual clothing: a gray knit sweater with jeans.  I brushed out the long hair that stretched down my back and threw it into a large, tight bun. Looking down, I noticed Cheerio wagging his tail at me, so I picked him up into my arms. Flipping him over on his back, I ticked his stomach as he squirmed and tried to lick my nose. I looked into his small, brown eyes and sighed. Cheerio was the only innocent soul I knew. I gently set him down and he was in such a hurry to run, he almost did a flip. I giggled, as he goofily stuck out his tongue and ran out of my room. In a hurry to catch up with him, I pulled on my tall, black leather boots.

“Cheerio!” I called, just before running into Mother. “Oh, apologies Mother,” I whimpered. “I didn’t mean to run into you.” I sheepishly smiled, hoping she’d forget about this and this morning’s ordeal.

“Forgiven,” she muttered and flicked her hand as if to push me away. I left, but studied her. Her cold features were sharp and clean, unflawed. She was beautiful, but in a cold way. You could tell she used to be a sweet, soft girl, but her experiences had made her strong. I wondered what had happened to her to shape who she was.

I walked over to the Giving Hole and collected my hot pancakes with maple syrup. I stabbed my pancakes with my fork and brought it to my mouth. I tasted the sweet, sticky goodness I only tasted on varied occasions. Gulping down my breakfast faster than Randi, which was a rare occurrence, I rushed to pack my bag.

“Where are you going in such hurry?” asked Mother, her accent thickening. I braced myself for the worst. Whenever Mother got most annoyed, her accent would flare.

“School,” I said coolly. “Today we have an assembly and I don’t want to be late.”

“Manners come first, remember.” I rolled my eyes.

“Of course,” I said sweetly. Mother’s stare became more intense. When I got to my sixteenth year, the sweet act didn’t work as well. It was hard getting used to that. “Thank you Mother, for providing money for this meal. Thank you Cooks, for giving your time for my meal. Thank you Leaders, for giving us cooks to cook our food. Thank you Lord, for allowing me to be here to eat my meal,” I recited, smiling the fakest smile I could muster.

“Sincerity would be a good lesson for you to learn,” Mother said coldly.

“That was sincere! I am thankful for all those things!”

“It is hard to forget being grateful, am I wrong?’ Mother said, in her Russian way.

“Apologies for being forgetful.  Bye.” I rushed to the door.

“Carmin, get back here now!” Mother hollered. I ignored her until I got through the door onto the doorstep. I smirked, and opened my big mouth.

“You know, I’m good!” I said cheekily in a mock-accent and walked out the door. I was a full thirty seconds faster than the rest of the cul-de-sac and got onto the Transportation first. I sauntered to the back of the bus, grinning to myself. Who cares if she was gonna get mad at me?

I stared out the window until the Transportation pulled up to the bus stop in front of the school. I liked the feeling of winning. Like I accomplished something. I only felt bad for snapping at Randi for watching my dream. She was only in her tenth year, and music was such a forbidden concept, she grasped it whenever possible. I’d have to apologize to her later.

“Carmin,” the Head Instructor said, stopping me in my tracks. “Running down the halls insinuates haste, and haste leads to conflict.”

“Yes sir. Apologies,” I said. I mouthed off to Mother many times before, but never to the Head Instructor.  He looked at me with a hard expression.

“I have forgiven worse,” he muttered and walked off. I shuddered. I was told never get on the bad side of the Head Instructor. He can make you leave school forever and never get an education. Then, well, we’ve all seen the poor on the streets, begging for food.  

I walked over to the gymnasium, in a hurry not to miss the assembly. When I arrived at the sweat-stenched gymnasium, there was almost no one there. I was early! I beamed, feeling important. I sat in the front row, and crossed my legs.

I sat there for about twenty minutes, waiting for everyone. Finally, at exactly eight-twenty five, everyone poured in, walking in straight lines like robots. The Head Instructor got onto the stage and stood there patiently until everyone was seated.

Nobody noticed that I was there twenty minutes early.

Head Instructor began speaking in a slow, soothing way.

“Children, good morning.”

“Good morning,” muttered everyone at the same time.

“As you know, our cul-de-sac communities were formed to protect us from JEFS: Jealousy, Evil, Fear, and Self-Doubt. The four Major Issues our founders discovered were wrong in our world. They looked into these virtues and noticed the one thing they had in common. All of them were induced by feelings of having a lower worth than another individual. That is why we formed the law against performance and talent. That way, no one is better than others at anything. Is this understood by all?” A robotic murmur went through the crowd. I noticed that they all said the same thing, even if it wasn’t clear. I thought they said, “Understood.” I felt uneasy that I had not felt the urge to do the same. Head Instructor smiled as if he had won a prize and gazed at the crowd thoughtfully.

“However, as time went on, everyone was out of practice and it was rare to find someone with talent.” My eyebrows shot up. “Recently, a group of rare individuals joined together to bring talent back into the world. Now why would they do that?” Maybe because not being able to express our emotion through art creates more feelings than just JEFS? I thought, rolling my eyes. “They call themselves ‘The Rising’. They sing a certain song that triggers a hormone in the brain. This hormone makes expressing talent feel as if it were a necessity.” He seemed to shudder at the word talent. “People who have heard it describe it as ‘without a true melody’. What are some symptoms? It makes whoever hears it feel calm and also,” I could have sworn he looked at me when he said this. “they become immune to Calming Medicines.” Of course! The pancakes we were served this morning had the medicine in them, and they made everyone calm and orderly. My eyes widened. I had been under the spell these medicines cast before, and I had never been aware of my surroundings like I was now.

I suddenly couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. I didn’t do anything wrong!

“Remember,” he added. “If you have experienced this and admitted it, you will be set free. If you keep it a secret, you will meet the same fate those who express talent meet. Dismissed.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. I wanted desperately to tell him, but something inside me stirred. It told me no. I definitely would not be set free. It frightened me to even think of the consequence.

I lined up in orderly fashion with everyone else. I tried to make it look like I was a robot as well, quiet and blank-faced. Head Instructor walked straight up to me with Assistant. He smiled a gruesome smile and nodded to Assistant.

“I must have been wrong about this one. She is as controlled as the others.” It took all I had to not scream. “We’ll need to adjust her medicine. My guess is she eats earlier than the rest and so the inner clock runs faster than the others. Make it work slower for meal number two, house eight on cul-de-sac fourteen.” Assistant nodded, not saying a word. Sighing, I knew it was not over yet.

When we got back to homeroom, everyone’s faces relaxed. I could tell that they were awake and aware again. I relaxed a little too, on the exterior.

“Great assembly,” Faye said to me cheerfully. “Who knew that ‘The Rising’ was even a thing?” I shrugged. “It was fortunate we got to sit next to each other, Carmin,” she giggled. I gave a sad smile. I didn’t even sit near her.

The day was fairly normal except for one thing. Our history instructor told us that we would no longer have history class for the rest of the year. I couldn’t help but notice that we were coming up what the book called The Renaissance. I wondered if it had to do with that.

On the ride home from school, I noticed the Transportation Operator was acting strangely. He was sweaty and red, and he was almost panting. Disregarding this, I took out the book we were required to read, JEFS Protection. It was so boring so far, talking about what Head Instructor told us at the assembly, almost word for word. All of a sudden, I heard a shriek. It was a freshman girl sitting behind the Operator. I glanced at the Operator, and he was slumped over like he was asleep. I had no idea what was going on or if he was okay, but I did know that no one was driving anymore. “Can anyone here drive?” I screamed, but knew the answer. President had outlawed anyone driving until they were in their twentieth year, to control the F part of JEFS. Fear. Nobody felt safe driving on the same road as someone in their sixteenth year anymore.

I felt a jolt and looked out the windshield. We had been hit by someone behind, and now we were falling, nose first, off of the road and down a hill. I screamed and covered my face as I felt us start rolling.

 

                                           ०००


I woke up in pain. The first real pain I had ever felt, thanks to medicine. My leg was twisted backwards and my head was throbbing, matching the beat of my heart. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut. This stuff wasn’t supposed to happen! We gave up art for safety, yet here we were.

I opened my eyes, brimming with tears. Looking up, I gasped. The seats were on the top, and I was sitting on the ceiling. The Transportation was upside down. I looked around, and saw that there were others too. Everyone was moving. Luckily, we had just our cul-de-sac left, so there were fifteen of us.
“Eileen,” I croaked out, seeing her first.

“Carmin!” she cried, rushing over to me. I smiled slightly. She looked okay, which meant she had probably been wearing a seatbelt. I never did and regretted it now. “Are you okay?”

“Well,” I started, wincing. “I’ve been better. A lot better. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just traumatized. My seat belt kept me from falling out of my seat. I was able to get out and come down here to see how everybody was. Can you stand?” I shook my head, cringing when my throbbing headache pounded more. “Oh, your head,” she whimpered. I reached up to where it hurt and felt a warm sticky fluid. Blood.

“I think my leg is broken. I’m surprised it isn’t worse,” I smiled weakly. “How is everyone else?”

“A few others were wearing seat belts as well, so they’re okay. There are… some that may not be as well off. There are people attending them.” I winced and shut my eyes tight. Maybe it was all just a dream. I opened them again and sighed.

“Eileen, you’d be a good nurse,” I told her, trying to distract myself.

“Yeah well, I don’t know if I’d be able to deal with stuff like this,” she breathed.

“Remember though, this isn’t normal. You wouldn’t be dealing with this,” I said encouragingly. I shifted my weight trying to move it off of my swollen leg, but that put more pressure on it. I cried out. Eileen rushed to my rescue and pulled me up. She let me put all my weight on her, and I could tell she was struggling. “Sorry,” I whimpered.

“It’s okay, I’m happy to help,” she squeezed out. She leaned under my weight and winced. She was a small girl who only weighed about ninety five pounds, and I was particularly tall for my age. She carefully set me down, straightening my leg gently. I had to admit, she was amazing at taking care of others.

“Thank you so much Eileen. I am so grateful,” I smiled sadly.

All of a sudden we heard a banging on the door. Everyone went silent in fear. Quickly, a crowbar slammed into the window on the door.

“Oh my, isn’t this a mess,” muttered a voice. “Is anyone in here?” the voice asked.

“Please help us!” yelled one of the kids smart enough to wear a seatbelt. I heard a sniff from that general direction. “We can’t do this on our own.”

“It’s a child!” said one of the rescuers, surprised. “Just hang on.” The door was forced open by a large, muscular arm. It seemed to make way for someone else that was coming in. A woman with a swollen belly walked into the light. She walked awkwardly, and we could tell she was pregnant. Her curly red hair swept down her shoulders and feel to the middle of her back. She was wearing all black, which greatly contrasted her fiery locks. She gasped and swore. Her eyes seemed to well up with tears.

“This bus is full of kids. Some are badly injured.” I looked around and noticed some kids that looked worse than me. Some were unconscious. One girl’s arm was twisted the wrong way, blood was dripping out of a cut on her forehead. Surprisingly, she was keeping it together better than I was.

A whole team of people wearing black just like the first woman filed into the bus, making it even more painfully hot and cramped. Once these people were done coming in, I saw that there were about ten. The ages were diverse. The oldest seemed to be in his seventieth year and the youngest, who was a boy, seemed to be my age. He had a strong, muscular build that led me to believe that he was the one who pried open the door. On his face was a look of conflict and pain as he surveyed the bus. His eyes landed on me, but then looked away shamefully when he saw that I had noticed. My heart leapt when I noticed a familiar man in his twenty-fifth year near me.

“You-” I began. He looked at me intensely.

“Cul-de-sac fourteen?” I nodded. “I got away,” he almost whispered playfully. He walked over to me.  “What hurts?” he asked me. I noticed that the others were going over to the less fortunate as well.

“Just my leg and my head. I’ll live. You should go and attend to someone worse off than me,” I muttered, remembering the girl with the arm.

“This doesn’t look good,” he said quietly, ignoring what I had said. He reached out his hand to my head, and I winced in anticipation.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Eileen asked worriedly. I jumped a little. I had forgotten she was there. I hoped that maybe she hadn’t been paying attention to our conversation about his escaping.

“For now I believe,” he grunted, standing up. “We’re going to need to bandage that, though, and watch it. There could be internal damage.”

“What about her leg?” Eileen gestured to my twisted leg.

“Broken,” he replied. He sighed. “Someone’s going to have to carry her or something. We don’t have crutches.”

“Carry me?” I started. “Aren’t I just going home? You can call the police and we’ll be all set.” He looked at me curiously, and shook his head.

“You’re not going home.” I felt my heart drop.

“What? B…but I need to. My little sister-” I stammered. He shook his head sadly. I swung my head around and looked at the rest of the intruders. I tried to stand up to escape, but my leg gave way.

“Sweetie, we can’t afford to let you go,” the pregnant woman told me. “I’m sorry to say it, but you know a bit too much.” I shook my head.

“No. No, I don’t know anything.” I started scooting away from the man who was helping me.  

“Miles?” he asked, looking behind him at the boy my age. Miles nodded and sauntered over, swinging me over his shoulder.  

“Hey!” I yelled out in pain and surprise. “No, please! No!”

“Carmin!” Eileen yelled, reaching for me as an older man restrained her.

“Alright, London,” the man from my cul-de-sac nodded to the pregnant woman. “Erase their memories.”

“What?” I yelled as Miles carried me off the bus. “No, stop! Eileen!”

“Carmin!” Eileen yelled after me as they closed the doors behind me. London stuck some kind of device in the window. The last thing I saw was Eileen’s frightened face before a blinding flash of blue light flooded from the windows, piercing my eyes.

“What did you monsters do?” I shouted at London and the other man, writhing and desperately trying to escape Miles’s grasp.

“She’ll give us away, Mike. I don’t know what else to tell you,” London sighed, turning to the man from my cul-de-sac.

“Alright,” Mike responded, tiredly. “Go ahead.” I wriggled and squirmed as London approached me and placed a heavily scented cloth in front of my mouth and nose.

“It’s okay,” she whispered soothingly. “Just breathe normally.” I tried to fight it, but eventually felt the need for air. I sucked in a quick breath, felt my body start to go numb, and blacked out.

The author's comments:

This chapter is not completed. 

There was a strange girl in my arms. She came from that Transportation. It was awful, being in there. The first time I had seen anyone my age in years and we had to leave them all there to spend the rest of their lives living under the government’s rules. All except one.

She had been over my shoulder at first, but it seemed nicer to carry her in my arms. She felt foreign and not like anything I was used to carrying. I mean, I didn’t carry people very often. I looked down at her to observe. Her eyelashes swooped down gracefully toward her pink cheeks. Her skin was fair and her nose was narrow and curved up a little bit at the tip. Her face was shining from sweat, most likely because of her broken leg. Other than that, she looked almost peaceful.

I wasn’t sure why Mike and London insisted on taking her, but they seemed very convinced that that was what we needed to do. I looked over at them, whispering secretively to each other.

“Hey. Why are we doing this?” I asked in their direction, trying very hard not to wake the girl.

“Hush, Miles. Not now,” London whispered, waving me away. I rolled my eyes. Ever since I’d joined them they’d treated me like a kid. I was the youngest in the group, but I was in my sixteenth year. I was not a kid. The girl groaned a little bit and stirred in my arms.

“Um, guys. The girl is moving,” I grunted. “What do I do?”

“It’s fine,” Mike responded, looking around him. “We’re in a safe place now. She can yell all she wants.” I looked down at her and saw her eyelids flutter. For some reason, the idea of her being awake made me nervous. After a bit more of fluttering, her eyes shot open. Her large, dark eyes searched around fearfully.

“What… who... “ she stammered, picking up her head and widening her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” I comforted, not wanting her to start yelling again. “You’re in good hands.”  She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head.

“You left them,” she muttered. “On the bus.” I furrowed my eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. I mean, what did she want us to do? There was no way to save all of them.

“She awake?” Michael asked over his shoulder, his face full of curiosity.

“Yeah, she’s awake,” the girl muttered sarcastically, still not opening her eyes. She was already being sarcastic? Maybe she had already accepted it. Honestly, as long as she wasn’t yelling. Michael smiled.

“She’ll be a fun addition.”
“I’m not staying with you people,” she stated surely.

“Oh really?” Michael asked, seemingly amused. We all knew there was no way she would want to go back.

“Yeah,” she answered.



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