Dear Alyx

In Alyxs world only people who are blessed by Gods can Read or Lie. Sooner or later she's going to have to take the test allowing her into the School. When she passes the exam and is whisked into a new world where she is important she starts to be happy. That is till things go south again.

Dear Alyx

 My hands shake, making it hard to Read. I miss her so much. I miss her lessons and her little jokes. I don’t miss her nagging. I was going to have to go to School. She was just trying to make it easier for me. I don’t know how I’m going to make it to the Test, that lets you into School. Would I even remember how to Read and write? I have to.

I have written this, knowing you will be the only one to Read it (we both know your brother or mother won’t suddenly Read it.) You have been my star pupil and well, my only pupil. I want you to think that going to the School is a good thing. You have so much potential and well, the government would kill me if they thought I wasted my time. 

Please, as my dying wish take my money, every last coin. I have no other heir, I never required one till now. Think of School as your way to pay me back. (I know you too well, now you have no excuse to refuse my money.)

Alyx, thank you

Kassandra

I look at the scribbled signurter. It almost looks rushed. I wonder when she wrote this. There is no date, but it seems recent, based on the way she talks about me and my family, and how she knows I haven’t decided to go to School yet. I'm happy someone will talk about my family like the mess we are. It also makes me sad. I had been hoping for some tips at School, or some comforting words. I’m always surprised when I think that the Gods went out of their way to bless me to Read and direct a scout to our little town. Almost everyone knows about the nuclear test, whether you can Read it or not. Our ancestors made the whole planet a toxic waste zone, with their need for nuclear weapons, gas for cars, and fossil fuels. The death that followed for years, and the desies. Only a few people made it out. Only a few have descendants on this already over-populated planet.

Normally, people like me, Read’s, become scouts or professors. Sometimes they become really rich and don’t need to work. Technically, the King and Queen are supposed to choose a cadet to become the next heir, but no one has been chosen in 50 years. I don’t think anyone will be chosen soon.

I didn’t want any of those. I don't want to travel or teach. I don’t want to just sit, and I definitely couldn’t rule Bliahath. Instead, I wanted to be a gardener. It always relaxed me, when I was little and my parents would fight, when Kassandra came, when Landon asked me out. When there was a chance the Disease was back and we had to quarantine for months, no contact outside of our families.

I wonder, in another life, would I be a gardener? If there wasn’t the disease, or if I couldn’t Read. Or would I be a house lady, like so many others? I shiver at the thought and hide the letter in a book under my bed. I would almost be grateful that I could Read if I didn’t know about the strings attached.

I’m thinking about my day, and walking home. Today, the girls in our town's little makeshift “school” were working on cooking stake, a rare delicacy. Landon had come behind me and hugged my waist. Unlike other times, he didn’t bother hiding his wince when he had my food. There is no surprise, just because I can Read and garden does not mean I can cook and sew. I had leaned into him, the smell of soil radiating off of his stained shirt. Today marked four years together. He had asked me out when I was 11, and he was 12, and against all odds, we were still together. 

Like always, I turn into an ally, a shortcut home, but this time there are two men, where there are normally barreles. Before I can back away, they notice me, and one, a big burly man with a buzz cut, grabs my shoulder stopping me short. The other guy has long dreadlocks, but otherwise, they are practically the same. Twins. It's a rare thing.

“Hello there honey,” the brother with dreadlocks says, sizing me up. “You alone.”

I fight the urge to scream and focus on trying to break free of the man's hold. It almost works, it's not my first time dealing with crooks, but he’s strong, and doesn't let go against my withering body.

“No,” I lie then punch the guy in front of me in the nose. He screams but manages not to let go of me still, he must have been trained in the army at one point. Most normal villagers don’t have time to learn to fight. When he recovers, he punches my back in the gut. I collapse but scramble back. He throws another punch, and I try to dodge, but he meets my shoulder and I know there will be a nasty bruise later if there's a later.

“Give us your money, and will let you walk away,” Dreadlocks says. I know it's not an empty threat. These guys would kill. They would kill for money, like so many others.

“Ok,” I say, forcing my hand to shake while I shove it into my pockets. I start to pull out the only thing in my pocket, but they see it before I can do anything. 

“Knife,” Buzz-cut says. He grabs my head and slams it down onto the bricks. I feel the blood on my hands before I feel pain. I watch them run, then try to stand up. I’m not surprised when my knees buckle one step in, and I feel the wind in my hair before I pass out and hit my head again.