A/N: Why yes, I got an entire fic idea from the "dress up and travel together" meme, why do you ask?
As a note however: despite the meme-inspired nature of the title, this is a fantasy dystopian story covering themes of individuality, creativity, conformity, and societal expectations. There will be some humorous moments, but considering this was inspired by some of my favorite dystopia stories (particularly The Giver and The Autodale Series), Luz will go through a lot here.
With that said, enjoy the first chapter.
The dark red stamp burned on the last returned paper: "Distorted."
Luz had anticipated a bad grade, but that didn't stop the sting of shock. A chill permeated the room as the lights flickered overhead. She stole glances around the room, seeing the brilliant seals shining at the top of each student's paper.
Green for Acceptable. Blue for Exceptional. Orange for Inadequate. Not a splash of red to mar them, except for her own.
Inadequate was something she had expected. But Distorted…
"Luz Noceda." The Professor's voice was dripping with a warning she couldn't afford not to heed.
Having tried to look everywhere except the speaker, Luz made eye contact with the professor who handed the paper to her. Or would have, if not for the visor shielding his eyes in shadow.
The same grim word scrolled in red across the professor's face in a permanent sneer, as a long bony finger pointed at the stamp. "Can you offer an explanation for this?"
Luz laughed a little, attempting to force a crooked smile. "I followed the assignment. I genuinely think allowing families to have a pet griffin here would—"
"—Be an impossibility," the professor interrupted, sliding the paper closer to the unwitting student. "Such creatures are rooted in mythology, not reality, and would do nothing to improve the city's structure or livelihood. Speaking of, your mention of griffins being mythological is a fact everyone knows, and therefore," he pointed to a smaller stamp underneath a paragraph, "filed under a Redundancy Notice." A sine wave appeared on the visor reminiscent of a scowl, matching the one formed by the professor's lips. "And spider-breath?" The scrolling "Distorted" flickered on the man's visor, as if disturbed. "What might be the purpose of that inclusion?"
"A good defense tactic?" Luz shrugged her shoulders helplessly, her attempt at a smile starting to slip.
There was no amusement in the professor's stance. "That's a dangerous notion, Luz. Depending on the spider, such a scenario could easily cause the mortal coil to be sprung for anyone unlucky enough to be attacked."
Luz's shoulders slumped as she rested her head on her arms. Rapid glances caught by cursory stares and wary movements. Too creative again. Too weird again.
Not too weird to be Dismissed, but one step closer. One step she didn't need.
"Shall we subdue her, sir?" asked one student, a blonde-haired girl with a pink stripe in her hair.
Luz winced, gripping her turn sleeve and darting her gaze toward the room's exits. Not again.
"That won't be necessary, Miss Charity," chided the professor. "Subduing the heart with guilt is punishment enough for the time being."
"But she's—"
"That will be all, Charity."
Luz dared to sigh with relief, ignoring the glowering stare from Charity.
"However…"
The pointed word from the professor was enough to make Luz sit up straight.
"If your grades are this poor again and you continue to try to interject your... distorted mindset into the lessons, I will be forced to send you back to your mother with a Notice of Dismissal."
Luz swallowed.
"Perhaps she'll do better that way, not wasting her time and resources taking you under her wing, which already hasn't proven to be of any benefit." The professor towered over Luz, the red words on his visor shining like blood against the bronze he was otherwise clad in. "Do I make myself clear?"
Luz nodded mutely, unable to speak. She knew that if she did, she'd likely get into more trouble and filed under yet another Disruption Notice. The professor wasn't above sending her to the streets, or worse. She felt the eyes of the other students on her, and absentmindedly touched the bruise on her cheek. Knowing the risks, Luz glanced up. "Yes, sir."
Another tap on the paper as the professor drew himself up to his full height. "Like the Mayor says, Luz: think inside of the Box." With that, the professor turned and walked away from her, his long jacket trailing behind him.
Luz sat there, the damning paper still in her hand. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes, blurring the paper emblazoned with the scarlet stamp. Constant reminders of her failure—no, distortion, she corrected herself with a wince. Failure would be preferable to them.
The bell rang through the building, and the professor moved quickly to the front of the room, gesturing a hand to the door. "See you all tomorrow."
As if on cue, all of the students stood, walking to get their belongings. No one said anything to Luz as she gathered up her things, placing her books and folders inside her bag. A few students watched her, wary. But most jostled by her as if she didn't exist.
This is why it's better to stay quiet than open your mouth, Luz thought to herself bitterly as she jostled her dark green backpack over her shoulder, nearly blending in with the blue-gray uniform she wore. As hard as it is for me to stay quiet. She took a breath, then stood up, walking out of the school's pristine tiled halls with a sense of finality. As her bag clinked against her shoulder, she looked down at the assignment clutched in her hand. The sight of the red stamp made her stomach lurch. It felt like acid, sour on her tongue.
She didn't look at the other students as they exited the building, not wanting to see any looks of scorn on their faces. Trying to quell the hammering in her chest, Luz fixed her brown eyes on the scenery around her. The well-paved road, the chiseled buildings surrounding the school, anything except her fellow human beings as she waited for the after-school transport to arrive.
When the bus pulled up, Luz got on silently, taking a seat in the back. Loneliness pricked at her heart as she watched several of the other kids chatter in animated gestures amongst themselves. Sighing, she shifted her focus to the window, watching as the orange light of the sun reflected on the buildings and poked through the trees.
Bells and whistles reverberated through the city. The sounds echoed from all sides in a faint but haunting melody, even through the bus's closed windows. The clamor on the bus settled down at the tones, but Luz tried to tune it out. The general message of the PSA rarely changed.
"Good day, citizens. This is Mayor Belos speaking."
Luz had never seen Belos, but she heard this opening statement so often she could say it in her sleep. She leaned her head against the window, watching the trees and buildings pass by as the bus winded around past the businesses and homes, stopping on occasion to allow students to disembark for their residence.
"Imagination can be quite a dangerous thing. It can get out of control and lead to misbehavior. Please report any abnormalities, problems, or changes with others, or within yourself, to the Department of Corrections, and the matter will be dealt with accordingly. We expect you to take the appropriate precautions for these situations."
Luz placed her backpack next to her, and dug through her notebook littered with stories. Tales of magic were banned, but the stories of her own invention were one thing the city's rules hadn't taken from her. She lost herself in the tales of witches casting spells and monstrous titans, sometimes frightening but at least drowning out the doldrums.
"This is a reminder to any Distorted that any inappropriate creative behaviors are forbidden at all times. Distortion stamps are not to be taken lightly."
Luz quickly closed her notebook and tried to make herself smaller in her seat. She felt sick to her stomach and was unwilling to face those gazes of distrust as students looked back at her. Though no one's name was ever mentioned in these reminders, everyone knew who they were speaking of today. Her.
"We can help you find a way to overcome this disorder."
The way the other kids ignored her, shunning her more than usual when she was further marked as Distorted, never failed to contort her mind into a mess of anxiety and guilt. Luz turned her attention out the window, willing the other students to stop looking at her. She let her mind drift as the announcement switched to its usual drone.
"... Like every day, we expect you to always perform at your best, and think inside the Box."
By the Mayor's concluding words, the bus's route had turned from the more lavish residences, and nearly all of the students had departed.
All except Luz.
The city's inhabitants were divided into two sectors, which the bus's route cycled through. The first was the inner city, which housed the shops, restaurants, school, and homes of those with money to spare. Once those kids were dropped off at their homes, the bus continued toward the outer sector, called The Outskirts, where poverty abounded.
The turmoil felt more like a weight in Luz's chest as the bus pulled up to its only stop this far in the Outskirts. Her own.
"Time to disembark, Luz Noceda," the driver called. "Unless you want to sleep on here."
Luz might have considered the idea on another day—perhaps she could see where the buses went after dropping her off—but she wasn't quite in the mood for investigation tonight. "No," she admitted, departing the bus with a half-hearted wave.
She had barely stepped off before the bus closed its doors and sped away.
As the exhaust cleared, Luz crossed the street until the ground transitioned from asphalt to a small dirt path that ran parallel to the main road. She stopped, looking forlornly at her house. Its simple brown walls blended in with the greenery that surrounded it. A dented, gray mailbox sat beside the front porch steps. It was small like the others, a two-story ramshackle of a thing that looked like it would fall apart within the year. Still, it was better than several alternatives, and the door's soft blue color was always inviting.
Luz started to tread up the porch steps, reaching for the doorknob before withdrawing her hand. She crushed the assignment in her hand, burying it in her backpack as she turned from the door. She wasn't quite ready to go inside and face her mother yet.
The gnarled oak next to the house caught her eye, its branches near the top bending over the roof. Luz hoisted herself upward, gripping the branches tightly as she climbed before lightly swinging onto the wooden sloped roof.
Hanging her legs over the roof as she sat, Luz's gaze turned outward. Rows of houses similar to her own, on to the various shops, restaurants, and businesses, the governing Ministry Building in the center. Looking to the opposite side, past several more houses and a forest of bright green trees, a slate blue wall towered overhead, even overtaking the tallest building in the town.
The Mayor's words echoed back in Luz's head.
"Think inside the Box."
Luz clutched her stomach as if she were sick. It wasn't just an expression. The Box surrounded the community in which everyone she knew lived and worked, to the point where most used the term for the wall and the city interchangeably. If the community had another name, Luz didn't know it.
We're all a bunch of round pegs in a square hole. An observation Luz might have brought up to friends, providing she had any. And if such wordplay wasn't against the rules.
A grinding of stone and the pounding of hooves drew Luz's attention toward a dirt path that curved toward the immense wall. A small smile formed on her face at the familiar sound, pulling her out of the mental circle of isolation. The lower portion of the Box's wall slid open where the dirt path met stone. An ornate black coach with a blue sash darted through the opening, the horses pulling it racing forward at the behest of the figure that commanded them. It looked like the coachman had come from a different time period, but that only intrigued Luz all the more. Perhaps the rest of the world outside of The Box—whatever there was—coaches such as this were commonplace.
The stone panel slid shut just behind the coach's wheels.
Luz slid down from the roof and tumbled into the foliage, wincing as the branches scraped her skin. Shaking herself off and getting her bearings, she hurried toward the carriage as it slowed to a stop along the dirt path.
Despite her forlorn mood, Luz managed a semblance of a smile. "Good evening, Mr. Bump!"
The coachman smiled at her, his one visible eye shining with kindness. Ture, others thought the coachman was unsettling at times, but he at least would spare a moment to chat with Luz whenever they happened to meet. Not to mention he was one of the few who traveled day to day outside the city's walls, even though all he ever brought with him was newspapers.
"Good evening, Luz." Bump removed the tie from the bag next to him, rummaging through the papers. "Hanging in there?"
Luz shrugged. "More or less." She craned her neck to look toward the carriage to see if anyone was inside. It was empty, like always.
A solemnity entered Bump's eye as he followed Luz's gaze. "I'm mostly the mail coach driver, Luz," he said. A soft laugh. "You're honestly one of the few people I get to talk to along my route."
Luz smiled gratefully at the acknowledgement, but her brow arched as she noticed Bump was fidgeting with his newspapers slightly, as if he were nervous. Luz had so many things she wanted to ask him—about life outside the Box, if anything like she had imagined had a small chance of existing in reality, something to not be worth the Distorted label. But she had gotten into enough trouble for one day. "Anything interesting?"
"Just a storm you might want to beware of, a meeting for your mom…" Bump paused as he handed Luz the paper, fixing her with a stare. The paper looked crinkled, a bit less pristine than how Bump usually delivered them. Bump's eye looked unusually bright in the evening light, his smile a little more hopeful. "Also…"
Luz's brown eyes glimmered with curiosity, and she hoped that tomorrow wouldn't have her chastised for looking too curious. "Also…?"
A mischievous glint shone on Bump's face as he picked up the reins. "There's an ad next to page C2 that might be of interest to you."
Before Luz could ask more, Bump took off, the carriage bounding away in a cloud of dust.
Luz arched her brow at Bump's sudden departure, but curiosity buzzed in her mind at what the coachman was talking about. Looking carefully around to make sure no one else was present, Luz slipped quietly into her house and shut the door behind her. Relieved at the solace, she quickly flipped to the page Bump had spoken of.
Rather than just another article in the paper, a flier was tucked into the pages so that it wouldn't be visible to outsiders. Luz unfolded the paper and her eyes widened. A single loose leaflet, showing a large tent and a haphazard caravan with an owl perched at the front, as well as writing in an ornate font:
Looking for a bit of magic to lighten up your life?
Safety got you down and you want some excitement?
Just want to spook your enemies?
Visit "Eda the Owl Lady's Traveling Fair"!
(Or we'll visit you, whatever.)
Luz's eyes widened at the alluring lettering, as if a spell had been cast over her. Whatever this was that Bump had snuck to her, it wasn't the unusual sort of advertisements that were printed in the papers. This was something from outside. This was borderline magical.
Taken in by the flier's promise, Luz sat on the ragged green couch, smoothing out the creases in the paper. "This sounds amazing. But how would I ever get to it? 'Eda the Owl Lady's Traveling Fair' doesn't seem like the kind of thing to be allowed inside the Box."
The paper rustled, and Luz blinked in surprise. Another line of text curled like smoke under the picture of the fair. A sentence that hadn't been there just moments earlier.
Just look for the owl.