Solstice Read Online Free PDF Page A

obedience training had fled. On the steps of the school, I broke down and cried. Naomi was horrified. Jezebel, you mustn’t cry, she pled with me. B Level girls do not cry—not if they want to be allowed to stay with their caretakers.
    That stopped my crying, but I spent the rest of the day swallowing against the permanent lump in my throat.
    That same lump had returned now. I pushed back the memory as I grabbed my raincoat and umbrella from my locker and hurried to the exit, pulling the coat on as I stepped outside. The never-ending drizzle had lessened, but would become heavier as the afternoon wore on.
    I crossed the schoolyard to the gates and pressed my hand against the scanner. Once through the gates, I turned down the street to face an empty stretch of sloping concrete. Everyone stayed out of the rain during work hours, and small apartments nestled against each other as if in cahoots to stand against the ceaseless rain. My dread increased as I neared the tram depot. Why was I being sent to my childhood residence? What had happened that required my coming?
    Tears burned my eyes as I thought the worst. Stop it! Crying is unacceptable. I’d worked so hard to achieve the A Level; I couldn’t let emotions control me now. Besides, I was about to enter the depot and would soon be among people.
    There had to be a reasonable explanation. My caretakers had always followed every rule perfectly . . . or at least appeared to. So why did I sense that something was wrong? I knew I had been a challenge for Naomi—at least that’s what she told me. Jezebel, you mustn’t laugh so loud. Jezebel, stop fidgeting. Don’t hug me in public. Don’t ask that question.
    I walked quickly through the driving rain, thinking of the things Naomi had taught me. What was the use of talking to David now? Naomi was gone. When I was admitted into A Level, the last thing I remember was the pride in both David and Naomi’s eyes as they said goodbye. I didn’t know it would be the last time I saw Naomi, and I left them behind without a tear, having learned to master my emotions.
    At the depot, a few people stood waiting for a tram. They wore dark clothing, brown and indigo, standard for B Level citizens. A couple of them glanced at my bright jacket. I placed my palm on the kiosk screen underneath the metal awning. The gate for platform G opened automatically and I stepped through. I’d almost forgotten which tram to take across the river. Even the kiosk knew more about what was happening than I did.
    Once out of the school neighborhood, the tram sped past the rows of brown and gray apartment buildings and three-story factories. Seeing the buildings reminded me of Naomi, who used to work in a clothing factory where they operated the machines that stitched royal blue jackets like mine. As B Level citizens, my caretakers were educated in useful tasks, allowed to choose mates from within their level, and produce a child—one per couple. My throat tightened as I thought about seeing David again, and memories of his face flashed into my mind, narrow and dark, with unusual green eyes.
    When I turned five, I moved into the Children’s Center where my formal education began. From that time on, I saw my caretakers once a month for a free day. I only let myself cry when I was in bed at night, after all the other children were asleep. It was then that I knew I was different. I knew later, too, when in the dead of night Naomi told me why my Harmony implant didn’t control my emotions. I was breathless when she told me about the second implant—the key that made me the new Carrier.
    Tram G came to a stop, and I stepped out of the sleek vehicle. A few gazes from the other riders followed me, and I wished I’d zipped up my raincoat to hide my jacket color. I stood on the empty neighborhood street for a moment, watching the tram turn a corner, until I was left alone in the stillness. Everyone who occupied the apartments on the street was working. I started