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I
indulge on the odd occasion, but I’m not a physical kind of girl. Being slight,
I’m afraid to develop muscles, in case I topple over on myself.
     I shift from foot to foot and side to
side, angling for a look at his lower half. But the girl in front is an
impenetrable barrier to my ogling. I pout in frustration. Our eyes meet again
and now he’s staring at me strangely, a mix of awe, fear, and disbelief blazing
in his eyes.
    I’m instantly self-conscious, and heat
lands with embarrassing transparency on my face. I want to look away but I’m
transfixed. It’s as if he’s cast a spell on me. He winks and I practically
expire on the spot.
    “What are you staring at?” Jenna hisses,
thankfully breaking me free of my trance.
    Spinning back around, I exhale noisily.
Oh. My. God.
    “Dayum. That is one fine specimen.”
    “Look away!” I implore, tugging her elbow.
    What the hell came over me? I cannot
believe I stared so blatantly at a guy. And what in the world made me turn
around in the first place anyway? I’m feeling an extremely strong urge to look
at him again, but there’s no way I’m going back for seconds. That’d be beyond
humiliating.
    I already want the ground to open up and
swallow me.
    “Okay. You spotted him first. You can have
first dibs.” Jenna’s face is a picture of sincerity.
    “What?” I splutter.
    “But if you mess it up or he’s not
interested, then he’s fair game. Agreed?”
    “You can’t be serious,” I stutter,
gobsmacked. “You know relationships are against the law, right?”
    “Of course, I do. Who said anything about
a relationship? I’m all about the fun.” She elbows me in the ribs and winks.
    “How old are you?” I’m suddenly intrigued.
From her reaction, I’m sensing Jenna’s had plenty of “fun.”
    “I’m seventeen. What’s that got to do with
anything?” She shuffles along the line, inadvertently nudging the guy in front
with the side of her tray.
    He glares at us. Jenna ignores him and
focuses her full attention on me.
    “Wait up.” She bends over, whispering in
my ear. “Have you ever been with a guy?”
    “Yes,” I say, even though that quick
fumble with Luca Parry in the factory closet doesn’t count for much. He was all
grabby hands, sloppy mouth, and slimy tongue. It’s an experience I’m in no
hurry to repeat. Ugh. A severe shiver travels up my spine with the memory.
    “Hmm.” She trails a finger along her lower
lip. “I need to investigate further.”
    “Not here,” I shriek. “Later.” I only say
it to distract her.
    I’ve no intention of getting into any
conversation about my love life, or lack thereof. It’s not that I’m
disinterested in boys. I like them all right. A lot. I’ve had crushes and been asked out on dates, but what’s the point when I’m not allowed to form any
real, lasting attachment?
    When we reach the top of the line, I opt
for spaghetti and sauce and swipe a carton of milk from the refrigerator. I
follow Jenna to a table at the back and slide into the seat beside her.
    We’re both quiet while we eat, and I get
lost in my mind.
    It’s a well-practiced habit.
    The government had introduced the ban on
procreation in the Outer Circle the year after I was born. Concerned with the
rising headcount—especially within the lower sectors of society—they’ve decided
we’re not allowed to marry and have children anymore. We serve only one purpose:
As lifelong workers of the State. When I retire—at age seventy-five—I will be
permitted to marry whomever I choose. But it’ll be too late to have children.
And I doubt I’ll have much enthusiasm or desire to get married so late in life.
It’s only a token gesture.
    Five years ago, the government had introduced
an addendum to this policy. Each year, the city selects ten percent of the lower-class
population and grants them special exemption to marry and have children;
however, it’s capped at two children per household.
    The government presented it as