The Chrysalid Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF

said Amelia. “No, I’ve got this memory thing.”
    “Hey, they’re great for getting you home for dinner. What exactly are you talking about?” replied Rayn, curiously.
    “I rarely forget anything I see, read or hear.”
    “Photographic memory, you mean,” said Rayn, her eyes lighting up.
    “Sort of,” replied Amelia, “but I only remember things I’m interested in. You know – maths, science, English. Practical things mainly. The trouble is I think someone told Miss Dempsey I’m trying to flunk her classes on purpose, but the truth is I just can’t take it in. There’s no logic to religion, it makes no sense.”
    “You got that right,” said Rayn. “I hate to ask, but do you speed read as well?”
    “Yeah, I’m sorry.” Amelia felt dejected at having to tell her new friend.
    “You’re the only other person I’ve met who can, and I’ve got the same sort of memory thing as well” said Rayn.
    “What? You mean you can too?” Amelia was suddenly thrilled at the prospect of a co-conspirator.
    “Yeah. Do you just run your eye down the middle of the page and all the information just seems to crowd around it?”
    “Yes. That’s it exactly. My mum says it can’t be taught, either you can or you can’t. Apparently it’s a rare gift,” said Amelia.
    “My mum claims she taught me. I’m going to have words with her. I’m so glad I’ve met someone else who can do it. I was beginning to feel like a freak.”
    “Judging by the mess we’re in, you probably are,” laughed Amelia. “The problem is it puts you miles ahead of the others.”
    “Why is that such a problem? Surely you’d be a star pupil?” said Rayn, with a frown.
    “No chance, the teachers can’t handle it. They like to teach at their own speed, one bright kid and they’re flummoxed. They won’t move you up in case the older kids influence you. So I’ve learned to coast along just below the top graders. It makes life easier. Mass mediocrity seems to be the flavour of our generation. What I’d like to know is how did Miss Dempsey figure me out.”
    “Amelia, that’s awful. I had no idea it was like that. What am doing here?” protested Rayn.
    “Anyway,” Amelia continued. “Kids don’t like the ‘smarts’. In this place, it’s, ‘Them and Us’, the teachers and the kids. If you show any kind of ability then you’re not one of us or one of them, so that doesn’t leave many options. I have got one friend though, sort of. Sam. He’s black and I also think he’s gay, so he’s another loner. We talk now and then. I haven’t seen him for a while though…”
    “Is it the same on the sports field?” Rayn asked only to be further disappointed by the answer. “Oh no,” she continued. “What am I doing here? I’m supposed to be way ahead of my years and came here to get some comparisons and improve.”
    “Sorry kiddo,” Amelia sympathised. “It’s the same for me. I do most of my work on the Open University. You’ve got the right motivation, but the wrong school. Sorry.”
    They sat on the uncomfortable pew in their soggy clothes, feeling cold and miserable. The rain had decided to join them and was easing its way across the flagstones towards their wet feet.
    “Is this really your first school?” Amelia felt the need to keep both their minds off their present situation.
    “Oh, mum and I moved around a lot.” Rayn explained. “She’s been teaching me at home,” explained Rayn.
    “That sounds like a dream,” said Amelia.
    “It definitely had its advantages, but my mum wasn’t really a teacher and she pushed me a bit hard through primary. She couldn’t understand when I couldn’t understand.”
    “Why did you move around so much then?” Amelia asked.
    “We follow the craft fairs – you know, exhibitions, carnivals, those sorts of things. Mum’s a dab hand at carving pictures into leather. She makes belts, bags, hats, even sandals, not to forget her ‘Gypsy Rose’ fortune telling. We did all