Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,17

arms tight across my stomach, and wait. My breakfast threatens to make a return visit if I can’t keep myself together. I bend forward, folding over on myself, and feel Beck’s hands rubbing my back.

“That’s just like them,” I hear Lina say. At first, I assume she’s talking about the Sensitives, but then she adds, “They can do whatever they want, while the rest of us get punished for so much as hugging.”

“Stop it, Lina. Lark’s upset,” Ryker, one of Beck’s good friends, says to the blond girl next to him.

She crosses her arms. “Right, I forgot. We can’t criticize Lark and Beck. Because they’re so special.” She adds emphasis to the last word. “They can do whatever they want.”

I jerk my head up and narrow my eyes, prepared to answer her, but Beck stops me.

“It’s not worth it.”

I nod. I don’t have the energy anyway.

Bethina paces in front of an empty wall. Deep lines form across her forehead and she taps her orange Singleton wristlet. A screen materializes on the wall. “I was told to have you all watch this.”

We wait as the screen turns from black to static. Finally, an image appears—a pretty woman with clear blue eyes and pale blond hair pulled into a fashionable twist fills the screen. Mother. My stomach flips and settles. She’s fine. Beck was right. I was worried about nothing.

“Good morning, students. We’re very sorry for the delay and for keeping you from your assessments.” Someone near the window snickers. “We received reports of unauthorized Sensitive activity in your area. Even though our security forces are confident all is well, please practice the utmost vigilance today. Do not hesitate to activate your wristlet if you sense danger.” Nervous chatter floats around the room as Mother smiles out from the screen. “You may resume your routine. May your day be peaceful and prosperous.”

I train my eyes on the now black screen, waiting for the rest of the report—the listing of captured Sensitives, policy updates, travel advisories, something. But no. Mother doesn’t reappear and the screen fades away.

Unsure what to do, my housemates and I give each other puzzled looks.

“That’s it?” Maz asks.

Bethina’s shoulders round forward, like a heavy weight presses between them, as she moves toward the living room doors. “It appears so.”

“If there’s nothing to worry about, why tell us?” Beck asks.

“The State always thinks of your safety first. They trust you to assess the risk appropriately.” She repeats the phrases she’s said to us so many times over the years. But instead of reassuring me, my insides knot together again.

Something’s not right.

3

Snow whips over the long, clear barricade, sending flakes drifting down on us as we walk.

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget they’re on the other side. But not today.

Before the Long Winter, magnificent trees covered this area. Now, instead of towering eucalyptus and acacia, only work crews dot the frozen landscape. Dozens of them—all wearing the bright red wristlets of Sensitives—labor just on the other side of the barricade, clearing city sidewalks and roads.

With my eyes, I follow the line of the barricade across the wide, open expanse of the Presidio to the Bay. Other than the three guarded checkpoints, the barricade encircles us, keeping them out. Or, as Beck jokes, us in.

I touch my wristlet, comforting myself. If one of them broke through the barricade, an alarm would sound. My wristlet would tell me. I have nothing to worry about.

Ahead of me, my housemates trudge along our sidewalk, bracing themselves against the cold. I always linger at the back of the group, usually with Beck or Kyra. Sometimes Maz and Ryker join us, but not the other students. Kyra says that we intimidate them with our wit and stunning good looks, but I think they resent Beck and me. Or at least me. No one could dislike Beck if they tried.

But today I’m alone. Kyra stomps ahead with Maz, probably plotting her next indiscretion, and Beck jogs alongside Lina and Ryker. I have no desire to join either of them.

“I can’t wait until I’m out there, hunting down those evil monsters.” The words float back to me on the wind. That must be Emory. He tells anyone who will listen about his desired career choice: Sensitive Enforcer.

It would be a good job for him. He’s strong and smart. And you need to be clever to outwit Sensitives.

Icy wind brushes over my face and I pull my scarf up to my chin. With my teeth, I yank off a glove and