Chapter One
The fingers on her hands are long and willowy. Her skin is a European white with a buttercup pigment; the nails are cracked and chipped. Her hands are clean though. They are smooth but not as smooth as baby's. They have a hint of a dry roughness. Not a single mark on those hands. They look new.
She runs her quivering fingers over the keys on her flute. The silvery metal shows the echo of her hand. The other tugs at the hem of her skirt. As I glance at her hands I notice they are moving as if she was playing already. Now and then they glide over the keys of the flute.
I look back to the closed curtains and let my mind travel to the place we dreamed of running to. Hawaii. She said Hawaii, right now, is like a solar eclipse, you know it's there but you can't look at it except in pictures.
I look at my friend once more. "Prima? Are you scared they will unwind you?" I question.
She rips her attention from the curtains, and I notice her chewing her lip. She lets go of the hem of her skirt as if to look casual. "Who's getting unwound, Antigone?"
"Don't worry. They won't unwind you. You are going to nail this and you, Juliet, and I are going to run away. To Hawaii. Remember?" I say in hopes of easing her fears. We had always planned on running away to Hawaii ever since we were seven and saw a picture in a magazine. It's a beautiful place with so many places to hide. There were the dense forests with trees that have light green leaves as vibrant as the sun and shrubbery with dark greens and deep scarlet leaves that create a shield for all that hide with in. The vines reach out and grab unwanted visitors, keeping them away from the many secrets Hawaii may hide. The high cliffs create boundaries and sway most from exploration. The changing terrain would wear out even the most experienced hikers. It seemed perfect for unwinds kicking-AWOL.
She opens her mouth to reply but closes it as her name is called from the other side of the curtains. I sigh and return to my seat as she heads on stage. I watch from my seat as those slender fingers glide effortlessly across the keys. She falters a few times causing unnoticeable mistakes to the untrained ear. I see the panic rise in her eyes. I wish I could comfort her but she is too focused on the flute, recovering from her mistakes, and the adults in the back judging her every move. They decide whether she lives or gets unwound. Every move she makes has to be effective and planned if she wants to live. If not, she will live in what the adults call a divided state, most kids just think of it as death. Is it really? After all, ninety-nine percent of an unwound is used. Each portion of the unwind, from the blood to chunks of brain, gets used on someone who needs it. Each part is still alive. So, is it really death or living in a divided state? Whatever the answer, I don't want to find out.
Later, I once more go back stage, to congratulate her wonderful performance it's then that she lets out all her paranoia.
"They are going to unwind me. They are going to unwind me for sure. I messed up. It was horrible!" panicked Prima.
"Calm, Prima. They won't unwind you. That was fantastic. You'll be fine."
"No. I won't. I'm doomed. You know that you're being unwound. I won't know until the day of!"
"You'll be fine. Trust me. You won't be unwound. Now take a deep breath," I pause to let her take the air in, "Now let it out." She lets out the air as if something heavy was on her lungs.
"You're right, I was scared. I still am, but we will make it out no matter what right?" She gives me a pleading look.
"We will. Trust me," I smile reassuringly.
"Ok," she states with a miniscule smile. I watch as she turns and starts walking to her dorm.
I glance at her hands. They are still quivering.