The Jewel Read Online Free PDF

out the back door, gulping at the cool night air, my hands shaking.
    Don’t cry , I tell myself. If I cry, they’ll see how scared I am. I can’t let them see that. They have to think I’ll be happy.
    I lean against the wall of the house and stare up at the night sky, glittering with stars. At least, wherever I end up, it’ll be under the same sky. Hazel and I will always look at the same stars.
    I turn to the woodpile, when my gaze falls on the lemon tree, silver in the moonlight, and an idea hits me.
    The third Augury, Growth.
    I hurry over to it and run my hand against its familiar bark. This will hurt, but I don’t care. The pain will be worth it, for once. And I know I can do it—I’m the best third-Augury student at Southgate.
    I find a small knot in one of the branches and press my hand against it, repeating the words in my head.
    Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.
    I picture what I want in my mind—a heat builds in the center of my palm at the same time the ache begins at the base of my skull. I can feel the life of the tree, a moving, shimmering thing, and I pull at it, tugging on it like strings on a marionette, drawing it out. A tiny lump forms under my palm, a green leaf peeking out between my fingers. The tree resists a little and I gasp as fire rips down my spine, and it feels like needles are being shoved into my brain—my back arches and my head spins, but I’ve experienced worse pain in my four years at Southgate, and I’m determined to succeed in this. I force myself to focus, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out, coaxing the threads of life one by one, like strands of gossamer, pulling them out, shaping them, and the lump grows bigger, until it fits comfortably inside my hand.
    A lemon.
    I release it and my knees buckle—my palms hit the ground, and I stay doubled over, panting. A few drops of blood splash on the dirt, and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I lean my forehead against the tree and count backward from ten, the way Patience taught us, and gradually the pain subsides, until all that’s left is a dull ache behind my right ear. Shaking, I get to my feet.
    The lemon is perfect, its skin a rich yellow, its plump little body dangling from the branch. Hazel will love it.
    I can still feel the life of the tree inside me, and I know that I’ve given a piece of myself to it, too. This tree won’t be barren anymore.
    I turn away, picking up some wood off the pile, and head back inside to join my family.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
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Three
    T HE ENTIRE HOLDING FACILITY STANDS ON THE PLATFORM to see us off.
    Southgate has its own train station, as does Northgate, Eastgate, and Westgate. We are the last stops in the Marsh—the trains don’t go any farther than the holding facilities. The stations that transport workers to the other circles of the city are farther on, closer to the wall that separates the Marsh from the Farm. I remember walking my father there once when I was little, frightened by the big black steam engine with its piercing whistle and its chimney belching clouds of white smoke.
    It’s very early in the morning, just after dawn, and many of the younger girls are bleary-eyed and stifling yawns. But the ceremony is mandatory. I remember my first ceremony—I was cold, and tired, and I didn’t know any of the girls going to the Auction. I just wanted to go back to bed.
    It’s strange, standing on this side of the platform. We won’t know what we’ll be wearing until we get to the preparation rooms at the Auction House, so we’re dressed the same—knee-length brown shift dresses, with SG and our Lot numbers stenciled on the left side.
    I am now officially Lot 197. Violet Lasting is gone.
    A representative from the Jewel stands