ODE TO THE END: A BALLAD OF BROTHERS

CHAPTER 3

NAOMI

The day-to-day affairs of Naomi S. Caitlyn was ideal when one simply observed her marks. Academics did not come easy to her, but her willingness to brave the books in the wee hours of the morning made her struggles all but invisible. She wanted to do well. She had to, so Naomi committed herself to acing every test and topic relevant to her success. She was an attentive pupil that sat in front of every class and raised her hand at every question just to see where she was and on what she needed to do to improve. Her lessons revealed a stark difference between her and her peers, for Naomi, through her bitter work, had reached such heights of excellence that she was the sole pre-teen amid a largely teenage student body.

Already ahead and still primed for further growth, there was no one who could possibly compete. This intellectual prowess combined with an even greater distinction made by the small girl's vast strength and speed did not just make her better. It made her absolutely insurmountable.

The school Naomi attended was not meant for the faint of heart. It was the pinnacle of pride and a symbol of how the realm of York could cultivate its youth. Such prestige barred everyone but the most skilled, or the most privileged, from walking its hallowed halls, and the rules of attendance often made adders of the attendees. Every year, those with the lowest marks were culled from the student ranks. This policy was meant to weed out complacency, thus ensuring that those graduating from the academy - those poised to become the highest members of the realm - would not fall to the pressure of protecting their land from the things beyond.

The logic was sound, but the consequences of such rigid standards were never as cleanly cut as the reasons behind them. It was not uncommon for students to sabotage their peers. Most, due to their families and backgrounds, had the clout and the resources to do so. Many would-be greats would never bloom due to this underlying culture, and, because she stood so unequivocally high, Naomi had become a prime target.

The hours after Physical Training were typical. Naomi and her classmates went to the locker rooms to change out of their gym attire and into their school uniforms. It was a mundane affair, but Naomi always took a little longer than others because her uniform often went missing between the hours of her coming and going. At the beginning of the year, the case of her missing clothes made her late for class or prevented her from going all together. Both were harshly punished offenses. Today was no different. Her lock had been cut, her locker breached, her clothes taken.

No one offered aid or even a comment, so everyone was suspicious. Naomi could accuse them, but what was one person's word when pitted against a collective. It would have been pointless. For that reason, Naomi lingered in the locker room, acting as if she was in desperate search of her uniform. Some girls snickered in the background, but Naomi was prepared. When the locker room was clear, she ended the act and went straight to one of many secretly stashed uniforms. She had learned to change quickly due to the inconvenience, so she made it to class with minutes to spare.

Inside the classroom, seats were assigned and all desks had supplies stored beneath the surface, but Naomi was the only one who entered the room baring her belongings. If she did not, her books and notes would go missing as well. No one could take something that was not there, but some had a penchant for leaving things behind. Before she sat, Naomi checked her seat for gum or mustard packets courtesy of the school lunchroom. None were found today, but there was a note instead. Naomi looked around to see if one of her classmates hinted at their involvement, but her peers had become rather adept at remaining unseen. The guilty party blended into the pool well, and Naomi was forced to identify the culprit by way of handwriting.

She told herself she would not read what was on the page, only skim for the sake of discerning the style, but, typed in large Times New Roman font read some vulgar and blatantly disrespectful obscenities tailored to her specifically. Naomi sat in the front of the class, so her embarrassment could be hidden as long as she did not look back, but the sun-kissed girl lowered her head throughout the lesson. When singled-out by her teacher during the lecture, Naomi would simply say that she was tired, but she could hear the repressed snickers of her class. Snickers she could do nothing about.

Naomi was scolded for her lack of time management during class and would receive counseling from her teacher for a lack of participation after. A counseling she begged not be shared with her family. She could not be a bother. Even when her peers tripped her up, knocked her down, or made a mockery of her effort, she swore to endure. She had to. Her world demanded it.

. . .

After every tormenting day at school Naomi took the train ride home. During which, she sat with her head against the cold window and watched the world go by. The sun had begun to set, so gold light flickered through the moving city scene. Even during dusk, the sun's rays sent a cascading hue of yellows across the territory, but Naomi, looking out into the familiar shapes on the vista and the glitter of the sea, fixated her eyes on the horizon. Her gaze wandered to the unseen elsewhere, despite the fact that she blended with the sunlight city so well. Such natural camouflage seemed proof of her origins. She belonged here. A fact for which she ought to have been grateful. At least that was the common sense of the citizenry.

The girl had heard the tales. Everyone on the train had thanks, in no part, to the public service announcements that often played between every radio broadcast, television show, and feature presentation. Even now, as Naomi rode the train in the lonely crowd of the car, another version of the message played on repeat.

'Great Citizens of York' was how the videos always started. After that, messages urging common courtesy and train etiquette were broadcast. A segment specifically tailored to those with special citizen status - individuals from the exterior with documented permissions to enter the inner city- would follow. These messages - these demands - stated that those with special status were subject to inspection at any and all times. It laid out the consequences of inspection failure and informed these special citizens that their presence within the wall was a privilege that could be easily revoked.

The broadcast went on to state that, as a penance for the invaluable allowance, all special persons were strongly encouraged to meet the needs and the mind the manners of those belonging to the interior. The last segment of the broadcast played after that, and it stated the following: If you witness someone deliberately disregard the laws, customs, and culture of our shining city, especially if they appear to be from beyond York's Great Divide or the immediate area surrounding, please inform the nearest Warden Agent and respectfully leave them to their duties.

Naomi heard this message every day, and every day she thought of the disparate places and their mysterious people. What did the people from beyond the walls look like? How did the denizens across the endless seas dress? What strange things spat from their tongues? Could their faces be read with a glance or were they as incomprehensible as the creatures commonly thought to ravage the world beyond? As Naomi looked out into the final scene just before the tunnel, her thoughts confounded on the mystery while her gaze laid on the Atlantic. She would lose herself in the distance before the tunnel cut off her view and the howl of the tram called her back to reality.

. . .

Naomi is one of my most fleshed-out characters. She has a wide range of interests and a number of struggles, some of which are apparent in this chapter. As you can probably tell by the art, she has sort of taken on a life of her own.