Citizen

Chapter eight

Kyra looked at herself in the iron framed mirror, twisting and twirling to see different sides of herself. She had traded her usual outfit - black jeans, grey shirt and polished leather boots - for a grey dress that flared out at the waist and black flats. Her usual dark curls were straight for the occasion and fell below her shoulders, tickling the skin her dress left exposed. Only her outfit had changed, but somehow she looked so different, grown up almost.

Her heart was beating rapidly, so hard that she could actually see it. If she wasn't right next to a wall, Kyra probably would have collapsed; she doubted her trembling knees would have supported her. There was no hiding her fear. It demanded to be seen, front and centre, to show everyone how weak she truly was. And it would work. Today was results day, the final day of the Vinctures. The mere thought of it made her stomach twist in knots and her face scrunch up into a grimace.

"You remind me of him in so many ways."

Kyra jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. It was soft and fast, the tone she reserved for talking about her husband. Sure, she talked about him a lot, but when she really opened up about him, Kyra had to listen carefully in order to catch all the little details.

"When he was worried he did the strangest little things, like playing with his hands, chewing his nails, biting his lip." Faye sighed and walked towards her daughter. There was something about the way she moved, a smoothness about it that made you stop and stare, and wish you could move like that. Kyra had been blessed with her mother's slim frame, narrow hips and swiftness, but it made her feel frail, not elegant.

Faye stopped behind Kyra and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud to be your mother, Kyra. And he would be proud of you too."

Kyra smiled, not knowing what to say. There were two sides to her mother; the soft, sensitive side from her past, and the pompous, confident side that drove Kyra insane. She never knew which side she was going to get, and it wasn't the kind of mystery she wanted to solve, but today she didn't mind. She just needed a mother, and she didn't care which kind she got.

Don't be late, Citizen.

"The boys are downstairs, we shouldn't leave them waiting." Faye smiled and headed for the hall, leaving Kyra frowning in her wake - it was as though their commands were in sync. Perhaps they were. The Controller in charge of her commands would surely have other citizens under their control. How strange it must be, she thought, controlling someone else's life.

After a few moments, Kyra followed her mother, taking the stairs two at a time. The house looked as it always did - white, grey, clean and familiar - which in itself was a relief. Nothing had changed from the day before - nothing except Kyra. Danny and James were standing in the doorway, lips barely moving as they spoke. Though Kyra couldn't hear their words, their tense postures said enough. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn't good. They stopped talking abruptly as the girls approached, each plastering a fake smile on their lips.

"Jackson," James remarked with a smirk, nodding his head at her. Despite the playfulness of his tone, there was something about the way he looked at her, a seriousness to it, that made her arms cross. "You look great."

"You don't dress up too bad yourself." She wasn't lying; he looked dashing in a suit of pale grey, one that made his light gold skin stand out, and his hair shine like a halo of sunlight. The only thing out of place was the purple bags under his eyes - she wasn't the only one who'd tossed and turned all night.

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly, linking her arm through his as they strolled down the street; though there were people all around, over the babble and laughs, Kyra was sure no one would be able to hear them. After their conversation yesterday she wasn't sure what would trigger that side of him again or where they stood. If he had spoken like that around other people, or with his bracelet on, it would have ended in punishment.