Truancy Page 7

  Zyid leaped and dived behind an adjacent pillar, then dashed towards the security guard firing at Noni, plunging his sword into the guard’s shoulder before he could turn to face the new threat. As he did so, another ceramic knife flew through the air and caught him in the temple. Zyid let the man’s limp body drop to the ground as he seized his pistol, swinging it towards an Enforcer that had entered the wrecked lobby from the stairwell. Zyid’s first shot missed, but the second brought the Enforcer down before he could bring his own weapon to bear.

  Meanwhile, Noni had seized the weapon from the Enforcer that she had killed by hand. Locating another security guard, this one crouching behind the security desk with a metal detector clutched uselessly in one hand and a gun in the other, Noni fired a well-aimed shot that buried itself in the guard’s exposed arm.

  Zyid, in the meantime, had been holding off several newcomers that kept coming in from the stairs. Glancing towards the row of elevators to one side of the lobby, Zyid noted that several elevators were on their way down, doubtlessly filled with more enemies. Turning towards the exit, he heard the lone security guard scream as Noni’s bullet pierced his arm. Gesturing to Noni that they should leave, Zyid leaped up and, using the columns as cover, dashed over to the desk, jumped on top of it, and plunged his sword into the wounded guard’s neck in one fluid motion.

  Noni soon joined Zyid behind the desk, and he hurled several firebombs taken from his backpack that quickly ignited and discouraged pursuit. Before leaving, Zyid took a piece of paper from his backpack and dropped it onto the floor in plain sight. Then, stuffing their various weapons into their backpacks, Zyid and Noni dashed out the doors of City Hall. The pair of children ran through the crowd that had now gathered around the building, shed their sweatshirts and scarves, and soon disappeared into two separate subways.

  No one tried to stop them. After all, they were just children.

  It would take hours for the Educators to sort out what had happened, and by the time they realized that City Hall itself had been besieged by two lone Truants, all they were left with was a pair of sweatshirts, scarves, and the sheet of paper that Zyid had left behind. The paper, the Mayor had observed before he crushed it in his balled fist, was a blank report card, with a large “F” inscribed in blood.

  The message could not have been clearer, and the Mayor’s wrath had never been greater.

  6

  TARDY

  “Well, well, well,” Mr. Niel said softly as he leaned against one side of the doorway into his classroom. “Another latecomer.”

  Tack panted, too out of breath to explain himself. Besides him, another boy and a girl were also detained at the door, wearing extremely glum expressions.

  The subways of the City did not have schedules, and the Educators made sure that arrivals, like the speed of the trains, were very inconsistent. Tack, having successfully escaped the bullies, had ridden the train home just fine the previous day, and had been relieved to find that Suzie had done the same. This morning, however, Tack had had the misfortune of being delayed because the train that he took to school didn’t show up for nearly half an hour. As a result, Tack had arrived at school five minutes late and now stood exhausted outside his social studies class with Mr. Niel glowering at him.

  “We are having a pop quiz today.” Mr. Niel grinned unpleasantly at the three late students. “Really, it’s all easy stuff; the problem is that if you’re late, you aren’t allowed to take the quiz.”

  “Why not?” Tack demanded.

  “Because the entire purpose of the quiz is to punish students that come late to my class,” Mr. Niel admitted. “If you’re late, you can’t take the quiz, and if you don’t take the quiz, you get a zero.”

  “I was only two minutes late though!” the boy next to Tack protested.

  “I don’t really care.” Mr. Niel smiled, clearly enjoying himself.

  “I was here before class started!” the girl blurted out. “My backpack was here and everything; I just went to put my jacket in my locker!”

  “Oh, well now that’s a shame,” Mr. Niel said with mock sympathy. “It’s too bad that your backpack can’t take your quizzes for you.”

  Tears began to form in the girl’s eyes. Utterly indifferent, Mr. Neil turned and made to reenter his classroom.

  “We will be doing this again, so I expect that you will all be very careful not to be tardy again.” Mr. Niel shot them a venomous smile over his shoulder. “You can come back in after the quiz is over.”

  Mr. Niel laughed, and then slammed the door in their faces.

  * * *

  “All right, what’s up this time?” Suzie asked, looking up at Tack curiously.

  “Nothing,” Tack replied gruffly. He didn’t intend to discuss the latest incident anytime soon.

  “If you say so,” Suzie said skeptically, turning back to the pizza counter.

  It was lunchtime, and Suzie’s friend Melissa was absent from school again. Tack had agreed to go to their usual pizza place for lunch, even though Mr. Niel’s class had left him so angry that he didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

  “Whaddya kids want?” the squinty-eyed cashier demanded.

  “I’ll have ham on my pizza,” Tack said grumpily, slamming a fistful of money onto the counter.

  “I’ll take sausage,” Suzie chirped, adding her own cash to Tack’s pile.

  After collecting their money and counting it twice, the cashier elbowed the pizza maker in the belly, prompting him to cut up a slice from each of the appropriate pies and slide them onto dishes. Tack murmured his thanks and seized his plate, moving to an empty table, followed closely by Suzie.

  As they sat down, Tack took a large bite out of his pizza so he’d have an excuse not to talk. He had a feeling that Suzie was going to be determined to cheer him up, but he had reached the strange level of anger and outrage where he didn’t want to be cheered up at all. But he needn’t have worried—Suzie seemed to be too hungry to want to bother with conversation either. She busied herself by tearing great chunks of pizza with her teeth and swallowing them with hardly any chewing. Meanwhile, Tack glanced up at the television. As usual, it was set to the City News Channel.

  “The Mayor today held a press conference concerning the recent gas leaks and subsequent explosions that left eight dead at City Hall,” the onscreen reporter intoned as the scene shifted to display a disgruntled-looking Mayor standing amidst a battalion of armed Enforcers.

  “This incident is a monumental tragedy,” the Mayor said. “My condolences go out to all the family members of the recently deceased. As you all well know, City Hall is a very old building, so in hindsight it is unsurprising that an accident like this occurred. A full investigation will be launched immediately to find out all the details, and we will of course keep the public updated as more information becomes available.”

  Tack frowned. Gas explosions in City Hall? It sounded kind of dodgy, but before Tack could think about it anymore, the scene onscreen shifted again.

  “And now, in other news…” The anchorwoman paused for a dramatic effect. “Is the meat that you’re eating safe? A woman in District 5 today has been diagnosed with Crazy Pig Disease! Crazy Pig Disease is an illness that originated from outside the City, and is always fatal. Enforcers quickly traced the contaminated meat to a local hot-dog stand, which in turn got its supplies from one of the biggest meat distributors in the City. The Educators now fear that a widespread breakout may be imminent. What’s more, Crazy Pig Disease is unaffected by heat, so no amount of cooking can make sure that your food is safe!”

  Tack frowned and looked down at the ham on his pizza. Suzie, meanwhile, hadn’t taken any notice of the news and was now stuffing her mouth with warm crust. Tack considered the news about the Crazy Pig Disease for a moment. On the one hand, he was hungry and he loved ham. On the other, he certainly didn’t want to experience any ham-induced deaths. But then again, strange diseases always kept popping up in the news, and nothing much really ever came of th
at.

  Reassured by that thought, Tack forgot all about the broadcast and began attacking his pizza with renewed gusto. By the time he was halfway through his slice Suzie was already done and was watching him impatiently.

  “So, anything interesting happen today?” Suzie asked, giving Tack a knowing look.

  Tack quickly stuffed his mouth so full of pizza that his head resembled a blowfish.

  Suzie laughed. “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Suzie tossed her plate into the garbage.

  Tack quickly devoured the rest of his pizza, careful to keep his mouth full the whole way to avoid any further questioning. Suzie seemed to have gotten the message and made no further attempts to interrogate him. After Tack had disposed of his trash, the two siblings left the parlor and made their way back to the school. As they walked, Tack abruptly decided that he’d go back to the mysterious boy he’d met in District 19. Tack had put off returning to the abandoned district due to an abundance of schoolwork, but not a day went by when he didn’t think about what he had learned there.

  Tack briefly wondered why he was looking forward to visiting the district again, then realized that it was the only bit of freedom that he really had. Over there, without Educators, without Enforcers, he could ask whatever questions he wanted of someone who was both knowledgeable and young. Any answers that he got made sense and, in addition, made him feel more enlightened in a City where he was meant to be ignorant.

  * * *

  “Ah, Tack, welcome back.” Umasi put down the letter he had been reading as Tack approached the lemonade stand.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Tack asked conversationally.

  “While there are few people in this City with whom I maintain any correspondence,” Umasi said, folding the letter and sliding it back into its envelope, “I actually just received some mail from an old acquaintance.”

  “I see,” Tack said, mentally berating himself for being unable to say anything more interesting.

  “You look significantly less rested since last we met,” Umasi observed, filling two paper cups with lemonade from the ever-present jug.

  “School’s been tough lately,” Tack said gruffly. Was it really that visible?

  “I don’t doubt it,” Umasi said, sliding one cup over to Tack and raising the other to his lips. “Has anything in particular been bothering you?”

  “Plenty of things,” Tack said, trying hard to remember everything that had happened in the past week. “I can’t really remember some of them, but they all piss me off anyway.”

  “Our minds are always eager to be rid of bad memories,” Umasi said, taking a thoughtful sip from his cup.

  “I’m getting really sick of school,” Tack confessed as he drank from his own cup. “It’s hard enough just to learn the stuff they teach you, but it’s like every bit of school is specially designed to aggravate me.”

  “That’s because it is,” Umasi said, putting his cup down.

  “What?” Tack asked dumbly.

  “There is a board of Educators,” Umasi explained, “with tremendous power and influence in the City. It focuses its efforts on making the school experience as mentally and emotionally draining as is possible without driving students mad or causing an alarming amount of dropouts.”

  “How does that help them control us?” Tack demanded, his cup of lemonade now forgotten.

  “It’s part of your conditioning.” Umasi stirred his lemonade with a straw. “You are trained to obey even under the most terrible circumstances, so that you can emerge from the schools as obedient members of City society.”

  Tack pondered this momentous revelation. All the terrible things he was put through in school were planned?

  “So really, we’re just guinea pigs to them?” Tack asked bitterly.

  “That is one way to put it,” Umasi admitted. “The City is all about control. They believe by conditioning students while they are young and in their schools they can control them when they grow up.”

  “But … how can they…,” Tack sputtered, unsure of what he was even trying to say. He was more speechless than surprised by what Umasi was telling him. Somehow he knew there was just too much to hate about school for it all to be accidental.

  “The Educators’ plan is fundamentally flawed, however,” Umasi mused, stopping his stirring. “If they cannot maintain control over the students before their treatment is complete, then they have a problem on their hands.”

  “But how would they lose control over the students?” Tack wondered.

  “All it takes is one,” Umasi said quietly. “And they already have begun to lose control. Remember that I told you that there were those that opposed the Educators?”

  “They … they’re kids?” Tack blurted in surprise.

  “Yes,” Umasi agreed solemnly. “Not unlike you or me. The difference is that they do not discuss their discontent. Instead, they express it through violence and killing. That approach can only lead to chaos and destruction for both sides.”

  “What should they do instead?” Tack demanded, wondering what else besides violence and death could make the Educators change their ways.

  “They could wait,” Umasi suggested simply. “The Educators will grow old, and they will die naturally. And then we will replace them. It’s an idealistic hope, I know, but better than wholesale murder.”

  Tack paused. The idea made some sense, though it called for more patience than he thought he had.

  “Enlightening the current generation,” Umasi continued, “would be a bloodless victory. There is no need to fight the Educators. In time, we could become the Educators. It might take generations, but it would be done without loss of life.”

  Tack thought that over. Provided that he survived his school experience and ended up graduating, he could pursue a career as an Educator. If there were enough others like him, would they be able to change things? He didn’t see why not.

  “The problem with my idea, Tack,” Umasi said with a sad smile, “is that it is unrealistic because it is unpopular. Why do you think that I stay concealed in this district? Patience is not a natural human trait. And it is unreasonable, perhaps, to expect enough students to remain unbroken by the Educators after they graduate.”

  “Well,” Tack said slowly, noticing something else. “Your plan also doesn’t do anything to help students in school now.”

  Umasi suddenly sat forward in his chair, staring at Tack meaningfully behind his dark sunglasses.

  “It’s true, there is little that I can do to make school less painful,” Umasi admitted quietly. “But if I could help some students understand their pain, then they might find their pain more bearable.”

  That ended the conversation, and Tack returned home, rattled.

  7

  EXPULSION

  Of all the punishments dealt out by the Educators, the most severe and feared was expulsion. Expulsion, unlike other punishments that could be put on a student’s record to inspire future obedience, was final. Educators were normally reluctant to expel students—the moment students left the schools they became free from the Educators’ direct influence. Expulsion, therefore, was reserved for students deemed a danger to school itself.

  Expulsion was so significant that only an Educator could deal out such a punishment. Principals were, of course, able to request that a student be expelled, though they were not Educators themselves and could not make that most potent of decisions. In order to deal with the large number of students annually deemed unworthy for school, special Educators, the Disciplinary Officers, were exclusively assigned this purpose. It was they who ultimately weeded out the students unfit to bloom in the Educators’ garden.

  Students of the City tried not to think about expulsion too much, about simply vanishing from the schools, from the lives of their friends and classmates, and soon from memory. All people, especially children, fear the unknown—and being expelled, much like death, represented a great mystery for them. And so expulsion was feared, n
ever understood, and no student ever thought to ask what really happened to those that were expelled …

  … until one day, when Tack witnessed it for himself.

  “So, did you hear that they caught the guy who messed up the bathrooms?” Suzie asked, idly kicking a soda can to the side.

  Tack sat up suddenly. He hadn’t caught much sleep the night before, and had skipped eating to spend his lunch period trying to rest outside in the shade of the Dumpsters behind the school building. It was a favorite spot of his, safe from both the guards and the bullies that Tack suspected might still be hunting for him. Suzie, having finished her own lunch, had found him there. For the last few minutes she had been unsuccessfully trying to wake him, though her last attempt was enough to bring Tack back fully to the realm of attentiveness.

  “Really?” Tack asked, stifling a yawn and looking at Suzie expectantly.

  “Yeah,” Suzie said. “It was one of the tenth graders.”

  This was news to Tack. For the past week or so, several of the boys’ bathrooms throughout the school had been vandalized. As the incidents grew more frequent and increasingly inconvenient, it had quickly become well understood that only one punishment would be severe enough to punish the culprit when he was caught.

  “Has he been expelled yet?” Tack wondered.

  “I heard he’s been locked up in the principal’s office,” Suzie said, sounding pleased that she’d been able to wake Tack up. “The Disciplinary Officer is supposed to be coming soon, actually.”

  “Today?”

  “Well, yeah, I mean it only makes sense since they’ve got the guy locked up and everything,” Suzie said.

  Tack was seized by a sudden excitement. He had always wondered what happened when a student was expelled—after all, it was the ultimate punishment and threat used against them. It seemed strange to Tack that no matter how unpleasant school was, being kicked out of it was considered the greatest punishment of all.