The Color of Knowledge

Chapter One (pt. 1)

"Ivy, wake up," Mrs. Stone whispered into her daughter's ear. Ivy opened her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the bright sunshine that streamed through her bedroom window and reflected off of the plain, white walls.

"You'll be late for school if you don't hurry."

"Do I have to go?" Ivy asked, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat up in bed.

"You know what will happen if you don't," her mother said without batting an eye, having heard this question many times before. She exited Ivy's room to travel across the hallway and rouse her other daughter.

Ivy crawled out of bed. She knew what would happen if she did not show up for school, or was late. Everyone did. Anyone who decided to disobey the law would be cast over the edge and expected to fend for themselves. If she were late for school—which was a huge offense—one point would be put on her personal record. Three points was all anyone had before they were cast from The Society.

There had only been one person that had been cast over the edge. Linus Exum. Rumor had it he lived among the creatures on the ground. Others believed he had died on the way down. All speculation of course, as President Khamar Cozart was the only person who knew the truth, and no one was going to ask him.

Ivy looked around her charmless room, wishing she was back in her old home, in her old room, where she was at least allowed to express herself through the color she would have painted the walls. The only colors they were allowed to lay their eyes upon now were white, blue, yellow, green, black, brown, and variations thereof; not exactly the colors one would choose to express the contempt one felt in one's heart.

She walked over to her closet, scratching the birthmark that closely resembled the continent of Africa on her tanned, left calf muscle. The hardest part of the day was choosing what color to wear. She chose yellow, because it contrasted her caramel skin nicely.

Washed, dressed and ready for the long day ahead, Ivy walked downstairs. The smell of oatmeal wafted up towards her from the kitchen.

"I don't think you'll have enough time to eat," Mr. Stone told his daughter as she sat down at the wooden table. "You know what will happen if you're late."

"Haven't you ever wanted to break a rule? I mean we get three chances. One won't do any harm."

Mr. Stone thought about his daughter's question before answering. The worry lines on his tired face grew deeper. "Don't think like that." His response was soft, but stern.

"So, you haven't?"

"Of course I have, but then I think of the consequences. Those other two strikes could be used unintentionally. What would happen to you guys if I wasn't here?"

"I think we would survive."

He gave her the look of disapproval she had seen too many times to count.

"Joking, dad." She pulled a bowl of oatmeal toward her and began to eat. The creamy concoction was laden with raisins. Mr. Stone was passed down the special recipe from his mother—the secret ingredient: cinnamon. Every time Ivy ate it, she thought of her grandmother that had passed away just a few short months before The End. With every bite there was a hint of sadness with lingering regret. Regret that brought forth a buried memory—

Mr. Stone rose from the table. "You may be joking, but just the thought of what could happen—" He didn't have to finish. "I have to get to work."

"And I to school," Ivy muttered to herself. She finished her breakfast and deposited her dirty dish in the sink, inevitably for her mother to later clean. She didn't notice her father wasn't wearing his green work-clothes. Halfway out of the front door, her mother called behind her.

"Ivy! Walk your sister to school, please."

"But I'm already late," Ivy grumbled. She loathed walking Spencer to school. The little one always had to stop—every few seconds it seemed—to look at every little thing that crossed her line of vision. Plus, when she walked to school by herself, Ivy was able to enjoy her time outdoors, alone.

"I'm sure you won't be late," Mrs. Stone added with a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"Why can't you do it?" Ivy became desperate.

"I have a meeting to go to. We're trying to think of new ways to grow green tomatoes without the use of pesticides." Her quick response seemed almost rehearsed. Mrs. Stone's job as the head of the Organic Farming Unit had its pros and cons. They received first-pick of the vegetables sometimes, but she was often forced to work unusual hours.

"Fine."

"Spencer, hurry up! You don't want to make your sister late, do you?" Mrs. Stone called upstairs.

"Coming!" Spencer sang as she bounded down the stairs. Her dark hair bounced behind her.

Ivy's face grew grim when she took in what Spencer was wearing. Yellow.

The younger sibling pointed to her outfit. "Look, Ivy. We're twins!"

Ivy looked to her mother. She could see the color drain from her face. If only Spencer knew she actually had a twin. Don't worry, I won't tell. Not now at least. They locked eyes as Ivy silently reassured her that their family secret was safe.

Mrs. Stone nodded, understanding.

"Come on," Ivy said to Spencer, trying her best to sound cheerful. "You know what will happen if we're late."

The seven-year-old leapt out of the house as Ivy closed the front door behind them. "Yes, I know," she sang.

It was a cool June morning. The nice weather helped Ivy put some pep in her step. The two walked together down the pathways, past the rows of houses, towards the schools.

One of the things Ivy disliked about The Society was that all of the houses were the same. They shone, white with blue shutters and a blue door. Grass was at the front, with shrubbery flanking the sides of the walkways leading to the front door. There was no need for garages since everything was within walking distance.

"Spence, keep up." Ivy looked behind her to see that Spencer had stopped to observe a blade of grass.

"Ivy, come look! This blade is the same as it was yesterday, and the day before that! I've been watching."

"That's because it's not real grass." Ivy tried to pull her sister from her crouched position.

"What?" Spencer's eyes grew wide.

The only other time Ivy had seen that look was when she had told Spencer that the shadows that passed over The Society weren't "big birds." They were not like the birds of the past Spencer had learned about in school, but the ones of now. They were air creatures.

Since the initial damage was done, there was no point for Ivy to take back her original statement. It was becoming increasingly difficult to get things past the young girl. Ivy had forgotten that Spencer was not born in a time where kids were able to play on real grass—actually growing in fields. After all, Spencer was three years younger than Ivy had been the last time she herself had felt real grass, right before she boarded The Society.

"The grass doesn't grow here," said Ivy. "They don't want anyone doing any extra work other than their jobs."

Spencer did not say anything, but finally got up to walk. A frown upon her face made her eyebrows furrow in an unusual way. Ivy, secretly happy Spencer was in a low mood, made a point to walk faster. They might be able to make it to school on time without a million pit stops to hinder their progress.

"We're here," Ivy announced finally, stopping in front of the elementary school.

Her brief mood having been lifted, Spencer lagged ten feet behind, back to her usual self, looking under a rock.

"Spence, hurry up before we're both late." Ivy looked down the path towards the high school. Kids were already making their way inside, which meant the gates were about to close.

With no sign of moving, Ivy grabbed Spencer, rather forcefully, which seemed to snap her back to reality. As soon as she saw Spencer was inside, Ivy sprinted towards the high school. The steel gates were already on their way down. With barely enough time left, she rolled under right before they closed and sealed shut.