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and it is during the
Test Year.  
    Thinking back, I am embarrassed at how
much time I spent choosing my outfit for the first day. I wanted to
stand out but not too much. I wanted to be seen as an individual,
but one accepted by the masses. Needless to say, I had no idea what
my Test Year was going to bring. If I had realized, then, I might
have run away to Omaha to be with Inara. At least we could have
faced this ordeal together.
    I was assigned to Randolph School,
which was perfect since I lived just a few blocks from it. I always
thought the building looked like a school in the traditional sense:
a brick building with white columns and a brick path flanked with
trees on either side. It was just like the schools pictured in the
old movies. That was it; I was walking into a movie
scene.
    On the first day, our instructors
reminded us the cameras were present to record our best attributes.
Of course, I never saw it that way. It felt eerie to know I was
always being recorded. Probably because I knew the recordings were
analyzed and graded. There were cameras in all corners of the
building except for the bathroom and library. While the lack of
cameras in the bathroom was for obvious reasons, the library was so
seldom used that surveillance wasn’t necessary. Information was
readily accessible and updated online. Books were quaint or
decorative but not used for research any more.
    Over the next few weeks, I got to know
the members of my cohort since the instructors placed a high value
on group work. I learned very quickly that the majority of my
counterparts were seriously striving to be in the top 20%. The
fiercest competitor was Lysa Washburn Harrison, an overachiever who
never seemed to repeat an outfit. Her endless wardrobe was only
rivaled by her boundless energy level. Lysa was a favorite among
the students, but she was far from my favorite.
    Though we shared many things in
common, I am not sure what I did to earn what was clearly Lysa’s
distaste. Our parents both worked at Stormont-Vail, the local
hospital. Our brothers both played in the city soccer league, and I
had been to her house for dinner. No matter what the topic,
assignment or class, it seemed Lysa and I were destined to be
paired. I could tell she was more bothered by it than me. I got on
her wrong side from the beginning, and she didn’t hesitate to
remind me.
    Then, there was the day of the
incident. Of all the days during my Test Year, I can still see that
day play like a movie in my head.
    “ No, just let me do the
talking, Turia. You mumble like a scared child when you present,”
Lysa said as she reviewed the assignment list.  
    “ I don’t mumble. Just
because I don’t do cartwheels off the walls, like you, doesn’t mean
I can’t present.”
    “ Well, I think it is
settled. I will continue to do cartwheels off the walls so we can
get the best grade and you can coast on my success.
Happy?”
    In true Turia form, I scrunched my
face up, tilted my head and gave her the finger. I completed the
pose with a fart noise, just to add an extra dash of
annoyance.
    “ And, that is why you will
be cleaning my house at the end of this Test Year.”
    Lysa started to gather up her computer
and purse. It was clear I had gotten to her which is part of the
reason she didn’t see the chair behind her. Before I could even
call to her, she turned, tripped and lost everything in her arms.
Her fall made such a loud noise that the whole school seemed to
stand still in its aftershock. But, it wasn’t the fall that upset
her the most. It was that the fall had projected all of her purse’s
contents into plain view. Her tampons, her breath mints and several
prescription pill bottles that didn’t belong to her. She lunged for
the orange bottles like a mad woman as they rolled under desks and
into corners. It was evident from her hurried grabbing that
something was not right. Instructor Tam was quick to pick up on the
situation and escorted Lysa to the