Victoria Diane Mariette
supernova73’s blog: August 9, 2613 9:34 a.m.
Topic: [Re: The Trials pt. 2] Thnx for the BF probs
I’m really grateful for the info, Lastelle, but now I’m really worried. I know I’ll lie on the survey and tell my close friends to do the same, but what if they have some other place to find this info, just in case someone’s goofing off? For example, my brother James would be all too likely to do so. I don’t mean to sound cynical. I’m just concerned.
By the way, you might not be the first person from America who’s communicated with people who haven’t taken The Trials yet. I’m pretty sure I heard a rumor somewhere that Exiles lose their last names, and eventually their whole name, and your blog seems to prove this.
When I got home yesterday, the house was empty. I dimly remembered Jacob, the oldest guy, saying something about a camping trip while I was in France. They wouldn’t get back until today. I spent the rest of the day reading and looking up science sites.
I should probably clear something up. I’ve mentioned that I like science, but I’m definitely not a science geek; I don’t say the element name “Olamargazonium” instead of “OMG” or anything like that, I have a lot of friends who aren’t into that stuff, and I don’t spend my free time doing experiments. But I do like understanding how stuff works. The same goes for history – why stuff happened the way it did. However, just like with reading, no one can ever understand – well, except for one person.
Okay, now that’s cleared up. I called Willie last night as well, but she wasn’t there. I left a message, though I didn’t mention The Trials, Lastelle, or blogging at all. In fact, I completely forgot about it.
My family came back early this morning. Jacob, who’s my age, was laughing with thirteen-year-old John. My own Younger, Nora, seemed to be playing keep-way with John’s six-year-old charge, James. Even quiet Mia, detached as always, was smiling slightly.
Mia’s considered a “special case.” There’s nothing wrong with her, physically or mentally, but she doesn’t talk as much as, say, Nora. Unlike all the other four-year-olds coming down from the moon, who were sent to a temporary home before they were chosen by a new Older, some division of the government intervened in Mia’s fate, as well as ours. Since Jacob and I have remained in the same family group every time they’ve been shuffled, and apparently we have the “right qualities,” Mia became Jacob’s Younger, with a special stipulation that I set aside a time at least every other day to talk to her.
I still remember the first of these sessions. Mia was playing the grand piano everyone though was for decorative purposes only. Feeling uncomfortable, I stuttered out a few awkward phrases. Mia stopped play and looked at me. I don’t know why, but something in those green eyes loosened me up. This might seem a bit clichéd, but I decided to tell her about liking to read, being interested in science, and the rest. And the weird thing was that at the end of my little impromptu speech, she turned back to the piano, and right as I was leaving, quietly said, “I get it.” She hadn’t said anything to anyone else yet, but she told me she understood my problems the first time we met. Mia may not talk often, but every word is meaningful when she does.
Today I know I’m going to have another session with her. I don’t know if I can tell her about Lastelle and The Trials. On one hand, someone could overhear – maybe even one of the “room bugs” that John insists the Coriansens hide in every room. On the other hand, this might be my last chance to tell her Lastelle’s advice. I decide to risk it. I won’t be able to stand it if I find out she fails. From what Lastelle said, anybody who fails will probably die, and I won’t be able to handle that. It’s already happened to me once before, when someone I was close to died.
As soon as I finish thinking this out, I snap my fingers to make my computer disappear (with a small burst of fireworks) and then I go downstairs to get some breakfast. I pass Nora on the way down. She’s on her phone, complaining to her friend in Australia how the guys in the family are great to hang out with, but she doesn’t have a girl her age to play with. I run into said guys in the kitchen while they’re possibly having a contest as to who can slurp spaghetti the loudest. I wrinkle my nose and order a piece of cake, soda, chocolate-covered espresso beans, and some ice cream. Nora finishes her phone calls and gets some salad. She’s ten and already on a diet. I, on the other hand, have one of those metabolisms that let you eat anything you want and not get fat. Nora looks at me jealously as I eat, but it’s not like she has anything to worry about – she’s slim, too.
The sugar has really given me a lot of energy. I challenge Nora to virtual basketball and win twice, answering rapid-fire questions about Paris both times. (Yes, I ate escargot, no, I didn’t French kiss any cute guys – that sort of thing. What more can you expect from a ten-year-old girl?) However, I’m still a bit too hyper when Willie calls me. She’s coming over with Juliette! This day is promising to be great.