Read Infraction for Free Online Page B

finally register that she's speaking to me. I look up and
the door is open. I shiver and step through.
    I enter a medical exam room. I stop on the rug by the
threshold—thankful for the relief from cold tile—and wait. No one
is here. There are two doors across from me, but neither are
marked. One of them swings open, and a man in his twenties steps
through. He wears a white lab coat and carries a digital notepad.
He smiles at me. He's the first one here who's acknowledged me in
any way as a person. I can't help smiling back.
    “There's a towel there by the door.” He nods to a
hook on the wall that holds an immaculate white towel, warm from a
dryer. I clutch it to me, wrapping it around myself, hoping the
shivers will be lost in its fluffiness.
    “I'm Doctor Benedict.” He extends a hand, but I stare
at him. He wants me to touch him? Shake his hand? Like we're
business partners or equals?
    I raise an eyebrow and step backward. He lowers his
hand.
    “I understand the mistrust. And I'm sorry about it.
Please sit down.” He motions to the table lined with paper. It
crinkles as I sit on it.
    “I just need to listen to your heart and lungs.” He
unwraps the stethoscope from his neck and presses it to my chest
and back. He taps a few words on his notepad.
    I crack my knuckles. His calm, kind demeanor sets me
on edge. I'd be a lot more at ease if he were frosty like the other
agents I've seen.
    He smiles. “Nervous?”
    I shake my head. I'm terrified, but even if I could
tell him that, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
    His smile broadens to reveal blindingly white teeth.
He even has a dimple on his left cheek. Is he serious? They send a
doctor with a dimple? I glance around me, waiting for the sky to
fall.
    “We're not all bad. The agents have their own idea
how refugees should be handled. We don't see eye-to-eye on that
one.”
    Refugees? He thinks we're fleeing to the government
because they'll offer us protection or better care than what's out
there? How naïve can Dr. Benedict be?
    “You're very quiet. Why haven't you said anything
yet? Most everyone else is either crying or ranting or yelling by
now.”
    I roll my eyes. Of course he'd want me to open up to
him, tell him my secrets so he can report back to his government.
Wouldn't he feel like he hit the mother lode if he knew what
secrets I could tell him about the colonies?
    I open my mouth.
    He frowns. “Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry.” He bends over his
table, tapping the screen.
    I snap my jaw shut.
    “You don't have to be embarrassed. I don't want you
to feel ashamed of any deformity.”
    Is that what he thinks the problem is? Now I
do glare, my equivalent of ranting.
    “What's your name?”
    I study him, study his fingers hovering over the
notepad screen. I grab his hand. He tenses a moment and pulls back,
but I look at him insistently and he relaxes.
    Aren't you going to give me a number?
    He smiles sadly. “No, I want to call you by your
name.”
    I watch him carefully, searching his eyes. They're
black, almost as black as my hair—or what used to be my hair. I
self-consciously run my palm over the stubble on my head. I can't
read anything in his eyes. Jack's eyes are hazel, but deep in their
colors and emotion. Dr. Benedict's are reflective, bouncing my
face back at me. I don't want to trust him, but he's the first kind
person I've come across here. Should that make me trust him even
less?
    Terra.
    “ I like that.”
    I drop his hand.
    “ Now I just need to see your arm and
get your tracker number.”
    I go rigid, all of me freezing to the exam table. He
must see the panic in my eyes because his lips turn down and
several creases appear between his brows. He tugs on his ear
absently.
    “ This is standard procedure, Terra.
We just need to record who comes through here, give trackers to
those who have chosen to, um, remove them. Or make sure there
aren't any phony trackers.”
    My fingers curl around the edge of the table, and I
can't release them. I