Truancy Read online

  That simple question, intended to cheer him up, instead brought home to Tack just how hopeless his situation was. Suddenly feeling very, very tired, Tack slumped over. Realizing that she’d struck a nerve in her brother, Suzie edged farther into the room and tugged on Tack’s sleeve.

  “Tack?” Suzie said.

  “Yes?” Tack replied.

  “Are you all right?” Suzie asked.

  “Yeah,” Tack said unconvincingly. “I think you should probably go before Mom or Dad comes along.”

  “Okay,” Suzie said skeptically, turning to leave.

  Tack waited for the sound of the door shutting behind her. It never came.

  “Tack?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine, Suzie,” Tack lied.

  This time there was no response. Curious, Tack looked up. The next thing he knew, Suzie had wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm hug. Tack instinctively hugged back, pressing his face to her shoulder. For several precious moments they maintained their embrace, and Tack could actually feel all his stress just bleeding away, replaced by a fluttery, warm, pure sensation. It was a strange thing, how reinvigorating it was to just hold someone and to be held. It reminded Tack that no matter how unfriendly the rest of the world might be, he could always count on at least one person’s warmth.

  Sometimes that was all the light he needed to get through dark days.

  “Cheer up, okay?” Suzie said at last, withdrawing from her brother.

  “You got it,” Tack replied, reluctantly releasing his tight grip on her. “Hey, I know that we don’t have time to do anything now, but why don’t we got to the park this weekend?”

  “Yeah, that sounds good!” Suzie said with contagious cheer.

  “All right, now you should get going before Mom and Dad find out that you’re bothering me and that I’m not working,” Tack said with a weak grin.

  “If you say so. See ya, Tacky!” Suzie smiled, prodding Tack in the belly affectionately before fleeing, just to make sure that she was meeting her sibling annoyance quota.

  Tack fell back onto the bed, partly because of the hearty poke and partly because he knew that it would be his last respite before homework. Savoring the few empty seconds, he imagined that Suzie’s arms were still around him, letting the warmth of her embrace thaw the monotony of his life. Eventually, feeling considerably better, Tack forced himself up and moved toward his desk. Flipping on the small black television that rested next to his work space, Tack set the volume low just for the sake of having something playing in the background while he tackled his homework.

  “Welcome back to CNC, the City News Channel. Today the Educators announced a new City-wide attendance policy to benefit our youth by boosting school attendance rates,” the anchorwoman announced. “The plan will impose harsher penalties upon students that cut class, and also call for increased Enforcer patrols in school neighborhoods that will locate and apprehend truants.”

  Tack glanced at the screen as it flashed to the Mayor’s familiar figure.

  “We believe these new provisions are absolutely essential,” the Mayor proclaimed. “Our City-wide Exams continue to demonstrate that our after-school and weekend tutoring programs have us headed in the right direction. However, at the same time, Truancy rates have reached disturbingly high levels in this City. Maintaining the status quo is simply unacceptable, as this is our future, our children, that we’re concerned about. We will do anything and everything we can to ensure that every child in the City gets the education that they need and deserve.”

  Tack shut the television off in disgust as he polished off another math problem. The actions of a few bad students would always result in consequences for them all. Every day a little more of his freedom slipped away. In a few years, what freedom would be left? What about in a few generations? What would the City look like then?

  Slowly but surely, the Educators were taking control of every last step a student took. Every second not spent in a classroom had to be accounted for; every child walking down the street was a suspect—they would stop at nothing to keep control of everything.

  Tack worked in silence, long past the time that the footsteps of his family had passed on their way to their own rooms. As time began to wear him down, Tack eventually surrendered to his weariness, changing quickly into white pajamas, brushing his teeth hastily, and plunging into bed.

  His assignments included math, science, and language homework, not to mention that he had a social studies test the next day. Tack had managed to complete his math and science, but he’d go to sleep knowing that he hadn’t written his language essay.

  He was just that tired—so tired, in fact, that his sleepiness even outweighed the dread of the next day’s tests and teachers.

  * * *

  Tack was jolted awake by the screeching alarm of his clock, a sound like a jackhammer pounding away at the concrete of sanity. Tack had heard that it was common practice for City students to leave their alarm clocks out of arm’s reach. As he forced himself to sit up, he didn’t find that rumor hard to believe.

  Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tack enjoyed a brief moment of respite as he struggled to reach lucidity. Once he reached that elusive destination, however, he found that it offered few comforts. Recalling his unfinished paper, and realizing that he had a test to take, Tack briefly entertained the idea of feigning illness, but shook his head upon realizing that he’d only have to make up the test. The same reasons that he had to go to school were the same reasons that he wanted to stay out of it.

  Tack struggled out of bed, back into his uncomfortable uniform, and finally to the dining table for a quick bagel before he solemnly marched out of the house and down into the subway. The absence of shoes at the doorway indicated that his parents had already left for work, which was just fine as far as Tack was concerned.

  Half an hour later, Tack exited the subway and listlessly began walking towards his school. His was the District 20 School, belonging to one of the lower-middle districts. The City was comprised of fifty-seven different districts, each with its own school. All the kids in each district attended the same school, save for a few that were placed in advanced programs elsewhere. Not all of the District 20 students took the same route that Tack did, and so he mostly had the street to himself as he took each dreaded step closer to school.

  As he paused for a moment at a curb, Tack’s eyes idly followed a plastic bag that was fluttering with the wind and down the street. As he turned his head to watch its progress, he spotted a crude wooden barrier that had been erected to block the street off. That way led to District 19, Tack realized, and he couldn’t help but stare sideways at the barrier for a few moments before continuing forward.

  District 19 was an oddity, from what Tack understood. The houses visible above the fence were empty and showed every sign of abandonment—windows boarded shut, masonry crumbling from the façades. Tack couldn’t remember a time the fence didn’t surround the area. What’s more, Tack had never seen anyone walking the streets of that district, not even the dangerous vagrants that the Educators warned overran abandoned districts.

  Now, Tack knew that it wasn’t uncommon for districts with low populations to fall into disrepair, and every so often the Mayor’s Office would order these districts evacuated and sealed off for eventual renovation. But District 19 had not merely been long abandoned; none of the maps of the City produced in the past two years seemed to even acknowledge that it existed at all. District 19 was just one big blank spot, and no one knew why.

  Teachers and even Educator announcements always insisted that students not go down that way, promising myriad punishments for disobedience, ranging from detention to expulsion. It was true that it was illegal to enter abandoned districts, but Tack had never heard of any other district so vehemently cautioned against. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t see why anyone would care at all about the run-down District 19.

  Some
students had whispered rumors that the district was haunted, or that perhaps some crazed killer had made it its lair. Tack, however, had reasoned that District 19 must contain something interesting or dangerous, or perhaps both.

  Either that, or maybe the Educators were just being pointlessly strict. More so than usual, even.

  * * *

  Tests. When compared to the time spent listening to a teacher lecture in a classroom, or even compared to the time spent doing the limited amounts of homework Tack could manage, tests were very brief. Almost trivial. Begun, and (hopefully) completed, all in one school period. And yet these scraps of paper carried more weight than any other aspect of a student’s performance in the eyes of the Educators. Difficult tests and failure to perform well on them would mean that all the student’s other achievements would be for naught. For students who didn’t “test well,” a test could be a death sentence.

  Tack brushed a rebellious strand of brown hair out of his eyes as he sat outside the classroom. Another class was already inside taking the test, and students were still absolutely forbidden from speaking, even if they weren’t in a classroom. Tack had heard that one student had recently been expelled for talking—not a fate that any student envied, and so they all kept their silence.

  But that didn’t stop them from finding ways to communicate.

  Did you study? Tack read off the paper that one of his classmates, a girl, passed over Tack and to the boy sitting next to him.

  The boy hastily scribbled his reply: No, didn’t have time. Did you?

  A bit, the girl wrote.

  Well, all I know is that in five minutes, I’m screwed, the boy replied, completely resigned to his fate.

  The girl dropped her pencil, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, she dug into her backpack, pulled out a few sheets, and began examining them, her eyes darting around madly.

  Hey, can I borrow that? the boy wrote urgently, again using Tack as a go-between as he gestured towards the girl’s paper.

  No, I need it to study, came the cold reply.

  Come on, you already studied, I need it more!

  I didn’t study, she replied.

  You said you did! the boy countered triumphantly with his next note.

  The girl paused, realizing that she’d been outmaneuvered. The boy looked at her desperately as precious seconds ticked by. The girl, however, made no move to turn the papers over, instead looking back down at them as she changed tactics.

  Get your own, she wrote.

  All right, I’ll just look over your shoulder, okay? That’s okay, right? the boy insisted.

  Fine, just stop distracting me! The girl rolled her eyes as she passed her final message.

  Tack shook his head as a number of other students, realizing what was going on, instantly formed a silent crowd around the girl to look at her papers. Tack knew that he was hardly ready for the test, but he wouldn’t beg. To pass the few minutes that remained, he looked around, determined to see what his other peers were up to. Some, desperately trying to appear calm and collected, quizzed each other on paper about what questions they might have to face. Others looked like they were noiselessly convincing themselves that they were prepared and that they would ace the test.

  Tack found it almost sickening, how a simple test could have come to affect their lives like this.

  And then he remembered his own anxiety, and realized that he was no better himself. With that depressing thought in mind, Tack swallowed his pride, and pushed his way through the crowd to get a better view of the notes the girl had prepared. He was only able to catch a brief glimpse before the shrill sound of the bell echoed throughout the halls. The classroom doors swung open, and the previous class rushed out into the hallway, savoring the brief respite they’d earned. As they left, Tack’s classmates, now free to speak for five minutes, rapidly fired questions, desperate to gain any sort of advantage they could before they entered the classroom themselves.

  Tack filed into the classroom with all the other gray-clad students, sat in his assigned seat (no students were ever allowed to choose their own seating), and took out his pencils and paper. The teacher, with a carnivorous grin, wasted no time in passing out the papers. The test heading declared that the subject was Social Studies, and that the teacher’s name was Mr. Niel. As Tack got his test he immediately felt relieved—it wasn’t so bad. Just a brief essay question and some multiple choices. Certain that he’d have plenty of time, Tack immediately skipped to the essay question:

  Describe life outside the City.

  Tack began eagerly, writing all that he knew, describing the huge agricultural centers, the scientific outposts, and the unsettled areas that, amazingly, were not covered by buildings or roads or anything besides trees. Tack chewed on his pencil, briefly pondering the fact that he’d never seen any of these things for himself. There were other cities besides the one he lived in, he’d been told, though as far as he was actually concerned, the City might as well have been the whole world to him.

  Social studies was a class that he had relatively little trouble paying attention in, so he was able to easily fill a page and a half of information before he started on the multiple-choice questions.

  Then, all too soon, Mr. Niel broke the silence.

  “You have two minutes left.”

  “What!” someone exclaimed, echoing the shock that Tack himself felt.

  Tack turned to stare at the clock on the wall. That couldn’t be right; the teacher must’ve made some sort of mistake.

  “The period ends in fifteen minutes,” Tack protested.

  Mr. Niel glared at him. “Raise your hand,” he snapped.

  Tack raised his hand, feeling humiliated.

  “Yes?” Mr. Neil nodded curtly at him.

  “The period ends in fifteen minutes,” Tack repeated.

  “I know.” Mr. Niel looked at him unpleasantly. “You have one minute left.”

  Tack was filled with a sudden fury. There were so many things wrong with what was happening that he could hardly think. All around him other students were thrown into a frenzy, filling in the answer bubbles on their tests as fast as they could. He looked down at his own test—his multiple-choice section was all but untouched. Finishing it within just one minute was impossible. Tack grudgingly began filling in the bubbles, guessing and sometimes even randomly picking answers. Even so, he had only finished half of them when Mr. Niel opened his mouth again.

  “Pens down,” he barked.

  Most of the students obeyed, though disgruntled looks were exchanged.

  “Tack, pens down!” Mr. Niel shouted this time.

  Tack felt the fury in his gut begin to boil over. Even so, he dropped his pencil and glared determinedly at the blackboard. Satisfied, Mr. Niel began to walk briskly around the room, collecting the papers. The next fifteen minutes of class served only to let Tack’s anger simmer dangerously. When the bell finally rang, and the other students filed out of the room, Tack walked up to Mr. Niel, who seemed about as open to discussion as a starving crocodile.

  “Mr. Niel?” Tack said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

  “Yes?” The teacher didn’t look up, busy as he was with the test papers.

  “I don’t think that it’s fair, how you told us that the test was going to end early when we had only one minute left.”

  “The other students seemed to do fine,” Mr. Niel observed.

  Tack ground his teeth together before responding. “I started with the essay because I thought we’d have the entire period.”

  “That was a bad decision then. I’m not having this discussion with you, Tack.” Mr. Niel pushed the stack of papers aside and glared at Tack.

  “We had the full period for all our other tests, and you didn’t tell us this one would be any different!” Tack said, his voice growing louder in spite of himself.

  Mr. Niel narrowed his eyes dangerously.

  “If you have a problem, you come to me and discuss it calmly,” the teacher growled. “You do no
t come to a teacher, start ranting, and expect to get your way!”

  By this point Mr. Niel himself was ranting, specks of spit flying furiously from his mouth, punctuating each syllable. Tack knew a lost cause when he saw one, though his anger had hardly abated. Walking out the door, he cast one last, furious look at Mr. Niel, who glared back at him triumphantly. It would take more than just a few periods for Tack to forget his anger this time, he knew. As he stormed out of the class and through the halls, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one who hated school as much as he was beginning to.

  He wasn’t.

  3

  THE TRUANCY

  “His name is Zyid,” the Enforcer announced with the barest hint of pride.

  “Zyid,” the Mayor repeated.

  “That’s right, sir.”

  The Mayor shut his lighter loudly, his eyes never leaving the scene outside his office window. Lately he’d been spending a lot of time in his office, so much so that he sometimes felt that the Mayoral Mansion had no need for bedrooms. In addition to the usual tedium concerning budgets and school curriculum, he now had to hold regular meetings with the Enforcers to keep up with the latest news about the Truancy.

  This particular Enforcer was leading the hunt for the Truancy leader, and after producing absolutely nothing for a long time, he had informed the Mayor that they had uncovered an important new lead. Never one to wait, the Mayor had secured a copy of the Enforcer’s written report before meeting with him. Aside from the odd name, the report was really mainly padded with filler nonsense. The Mayor was experienced enough to recognize pointless padding—he had, after all, spent several years as a teacher grading essays in City schools.

  “Is this all you know?” the Mayor asked scornfully. “And I don’t want you to repeat the obvious facts you’ve used to dress up your report.”

  The Enforcer frowned, apparently having expected praise. “It’s what we know at the moment, yes, but I’m certain that with more time and resources we could—”