Chapter 4
I stare at myself in the floor length mirror in my dormitory. I wear the pink dress. It's a half-size too large. The hideous pink trim brushes against my knees.
G lays on her bed and stares up at the ceiling.
"Aren't you going to put yours on?" I ask her.
"There was only one dress dropped off," she replies quietly.
I look on her desk: her unopened exam envelope lays there. I walk over and grab it.
"Aren't you going to open this?" I ask.
"Go ahead and do it yourself," She shrugs.
I rip it open quickly. I already know what's inside. But I'm shocked to read; 'Exam Status: Pass; Job Assignment: Biologist - Meridian City General Science Laboratory; Status: Elite.' My mouth hangs open in confusion.
"You…passed." I announce in disbelief.
G shrugs. She doesn't care.
"G! All the other girls failed! Do you know what this means?" I say to her, "You don't have to be partnered with anyone. You get to go on like…everything is normal."
"But nothing is normal," G reminds me.
Padma walks through our door. She's dressed in the same ill-fitting pink dress. Her face in a scowl. I look her up and down.
"We can't just submit to this." I say to her.
"But what can we do?" she asks me.
"We can tell the other girls to put on their old clothes, and we can protest together! We can parade around the Dining Hall and show Meridian that we refuse to participate in these changes!" I say to her. She smiles in excitement.
"I'll tell the others," Padma says to me, and she leaves.
I turn my attention back to G.
"G. We need your help!" I say to her forcefully, "Get up!"
She groans, "Not today, Hermione."
"There is only today! Tonight the Elite boys are going to a picking ceremony where Meridian is practically selling us off to the highest bidder like cattle!"
G says nothing.
"G! Get up and help!—" I shout at her.
She turns to me, "Hermione, yesterday my mother died. She's dead! I'm sorry that I can't feign interest in a protest!"
"Feign interest!?" I can't believe what I'm hearing, "So, you don't care?"
"Not today," She says as she buries her head into her pillow.
"It's easy for you to not care because you aren't affected! You get to go off and be an Elite still!" I'm screaming at her now. I'm filled with anger and frustration, and I direct it straight at G.
I rip off the pink dress and put on my red colored clothing.
"You really are a privileged, spoiled, self-centered Elite bitch!" I yell at her. She doesn't move. She is lifeless on the bed. "Did you hear me?!" I yell. No response. I walk out the door, slamming it behind me. The rage and frustration is consuming me.
I walk into the Common Room. Padma and the forty other girls are there, dressed in their regular red and yellow clothing.
"I never thought I'd want to wear red," I admit to the group. My cheeks are still hot with anger.
"What's the plan?" One asks.
"I think if we stand together, in unison, they can't punish us all. They need us," I say.
"Yeah. To be their wives," one scoffs.
"You mean their whores," Yells another angrily.
"Let's walk through the Academy together and show everyone that we are united! We cannot be paired off with strange men. We will not be diminished to our uteruses! And that we will not wear pink!" my words are met with cheers.
"No pink! No pink! No pink," A girl starts chanting and all of us join in.
The large group filters out of the Common Room and we make our way to the Dining Hall.
We chant as loud as we can, "No pink! No pink! No pink!"
We are a spectacle garnering everyone's attention, including that of the Elite Military occupying the school.
"No pink! No pink! No pink," We chant to the filled Dining Hall of mostly Elite male students.
Commander Zambini and his son, Blaise, enter.
"Enough!" Commander Zambini yells.
We chant louder at him, "No pink! No pink!"
Commander Zambini is infuriated. He pulls the gun from his belt and fires it into the air. We silence immediately.
"All of you, everyone in this room, to the Main Auditorium. NOW!" he snarls. He turns to a Military Elite, "Get President Malfoy."
The Military Elites surround us. They usher us to move in the direction of the auditorium. I'm scared. There are more of them than us.
In moments we find ourselves in the auditorium. Forty of us girls are made to stand on stage with Commander Zambini. Padma is tight by my side. The audience is filled with senior Elite boys; all one-hundred and seven of them. I spot Harry in the audience. His eye are fixated on me. I can tell he's unnerved.
President Malfoy enters the Auditorium. He calmly walks to the stage. He then snaps his fingers, and two Military Elites bring a pile of pink dresses. They set them in front of us.
I look to the doors: they are guarded. No escaping this now. Nowhere to run to even if we could.
"These girls want to defy Meridian law." The President says to the audience of Elites, "But Meridian can't be defied. Because we are Meridian Strong."
"Meridian Strong." The audience chants back, except for Harry. His mouth doesn't move.
My eyes search the rest of the room. I spot Blaise Zambini smirking in the front. He's enjoying this. I look beside him and it's Draco Malfoy starring directly at me. I look away quickly.
I bet he's amused. I think to myself.
President Malfoy turns his body half to us on stage, but still giving a show to the audience, "Anyone wearing the wrong color in one minute will be flogged!"
The girls around me gasps. Floggings are never given to Academy students. Only to the most serious of offenses. No one moves. Commander Zambini clicks a stopwatch in his hand. It begins ticking.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Anyone wearing the wrong color when the clock runs out will be beaten! We will flog every one of you if that's what it comes to!" President Malfoy says matter-of-factly.
A Core girl breaks from our group and grabs a pink dress from the pile. She desperately puts it on over her yellow blouse.
"Good! Thirty seconds!" He says calmly, but with an urging tone.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
My heart is racing. I've been timed by a stopwatch so many times at the Academy. Every practical exam, test, and exercise has that familiar ticking sound ever present in the background. But this is different. I usually always know the answers, what to do, how to act. But, for the first time, I am frozen. I am unsure. The ticking sound scares me.
Other girls break from our group and grab pink dresses, pulling them over their clothing.
"Fifteen seconds!" President Malfoy says, his tone harsh.
Padma breaks from my side and grabs a pink dress and pulls it on. I'm the last one not wearing pink. I can feel Harry's eyes burning into mine. He is urging me: put on the dress! His eyes plead to me.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"If you are wearing the wrong color when the timer goes off you will feel the sting of a whip!" President Malfoy says directly to me. I don't move. He finally breaks his cool exterior and screams at me, "Five, four, three—"
And then the idea comes to me. There isn't enough time to think it through. I just act! I pull my red blouse off over my head quickly. I yank my pants down. I rip off my red bra from my body. And just as the timer goes off, I pull down my red underwear.
I am naked. I am naked on stage in front of every graduating boy in my class and four dozen Military Elites. I can feel all their eyes staring at my naked body in shock. My eyes make their way back to Harry, who is wide eyed. I can feel my cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, but I know I must be strong. This is bigger than my humility.
President Malfoy doesn't know how to respond at first. He is stunned along with the audience.
I turn to President Malfoy, mustering as much confidence as I can and say loudly so everyone can hear, "Mr. President, as you instructed, I am not wearing the wrong color."
Some boys in the audience laugh. Then, completely unexpectedly, Padma pulls off her pinks dress and the clothes underneath. She is naked. Then another girl follows. Then more. Soon, all forty of us stand completely naked on the stage.
Some of the Elite boys in the audience whistle and clap. This is a game to them. Their mothers and sisters died, and this is their mood elevator. We are their amusement. Their pick-me-up.
President Malfoy approaches me.
"You think you're clever?" he says to me in a low tone. He sounds almost amused as well. I never have been this close to him before. He reminds me so much of Draco; cold and cruel, yet formidable and cunning.
He turns to Commander Zambini beside him and calmy says, "Have your men flog them all."
"What!? But we aren't wearing the wrong color!" I say to him.
"Flog them all, except her." He gestures to me. Military Elites start grabbing the naked girls beside me. The girls flail and try and break free but are outnumbered.
President Malfoy leans his head in close to mine and whispers, "You want to be their leader? I'll make them despise you, girl."
"Please?—" I say to the President.
"It's too late for that," He shakes his head at me before turning to the audience, "For every additional minute this girl refuses to obey Meridian law, we will add to the time her fellow offenders will be flogged."
I can't be responsible for other girl's beatings.
I immediately grab a pink dress before me.
"Hermione, don't!" Padma pleads.
I pull the dress over my head. President Malfoy turns to me and smiles approvingly.
"How do you feel about two lashes each?" he asks Commander Zambini.
"I feel three is more fitting," Commander Zambini smiles deviously.
"You are the expert in this area," President Malfoy replies as he excuses himself from the chaos of the room.
Military Elite struggle with the girls, throwing them over their shoulders. Some pull their hair and drag them off the stage.
"Careful boys," Commander Zambini says nonchalantly, "These may be your future partners."
A younger Military Elite gathers up the pile of yellow and red clothing.
"Burn it," Commander Zambini says to him.
My face is hot with anger and frustration. My life has been so calculated and laid out for me. I knew each step I needed to take for success. This is the first time I feel completely lost. This is what being truly powerless feels like. I think.
I wait on the stage, motionless, until all the girls are out of the room and most of the audience has been ushered out by guards. No doubt they are expected to witness the flogging. Once the room is empty, I leave. I need to go to the flogging. I need to demand they punish me instead. I am the reason all of this started. I think to myself, working up the courage to take the severe lashing. I round the corner of the hallway and run directly into Blaise and Draco. They are waiting for me.
"You really did us a service," Blaise says to me, his tone mocking, "Without your little spectacle I wouldn't have known that twenty-year old Engineering Core had such a nice ass."
"Excuse me," I try to push past. Draco grabs my arm.
"No." He says to me, "Don't."
I rip my arm from him, "I am going to stop this! I am the one who should be flogged! Not them."
"No. Go back to your room, Red," Draco says sternly.
Blaise is amused, "Let her go, Malfoy! Maybe they'll listen to her, and she'll take all the lashes. God knows I don't want to pick a bruised fruit tonight."
Draco snaps at me, "My father order me to ensure you don't intervene further."
"I am going," I try and push past him.
He grabs firmly, "No. You aren't. Go back to your room!"
I struggle with him. He plants his body firmly and I can't move him. I cry out in frustration, "Draco, Move!"
My effort is in vain. He is too large for me to get past. The frustration takes over me, and before I can think my hand makes contact with his cheek in a firm slap. The action startles me. I take a step back. Draco doesn't move. Blaise reacts quickly.
"You nasty Primary bitch!" Blaise yells at me. He raises a fist to strike me. I cower, but Draco grabs his fist mid- air.
"Don't!" Draco says firmly, "Zambini, let it go."
"This little bitch just hit you," Blaise argues with him, still struggling against Draco's grasp, "We have to teach her a lesson."
I'm frozen from watching them. Draco pushes Blaise to the ground. Draco grabs his shoulder and winces in pain from the movement. Blaise looks up at him, in a furious rage.
Draco, holding his sore shoulder, quickly turns to me and says firmly, "Go to your room, Red!"
Blaise is on his feet and tackles Draco into the wall. I hear Draco let out a stifled grunt of pain, as I turn and run. Hearing their blows fade in the distance behind me. Each step putting them farther away.
I finally reach my room. I close the door firmly and lock it, my heart is racing. I turn and startle, as a man sits on my bed. It's Harry. I let out a breath of relief. He stands.
"Are you alright?" He asks me.
"Where is G?" I ask him urgently, "Maybe she can somehow-"
"G is gone," He says to me, "All of her things. They aren't here. She must have moved out earlier today."
I look around and confirm his statement. All of her things, her quirky posters and drawings that once hung around the room, her doodles of us and caricatures of her least favorite professors, are all gone. The walls haven't been this bare for the four years we have been here.
"We must go stop what's happening-" I manage to say.
"Hermione," he says to me, "There is nothing you can do to stop the flogging. If you try—"
"I must try!" I say feverishly.
"If you try, I fear you will only make things worse," he says to me.
His words linger. Harry is right. If I interfere, President Malfoy will only punish the girls further.
"They are ordering all graduating Elite boys, including those of us graduating into Elite status, to move out tonight. They have arranged our new houses outside of the Academy."
"You're leaving?" I ask desperately, "No. No, I can't lose you, too!"
My mind is racing. My eyes fill with water. I'm in a mixture of sadness and anger.
"Tonight's the picking ceremony. They explained to us how it will work. And why we must participate," he says.
"It's barbaric!" I interject.
"It is. But there is no getting around it. And Hermione…" Harry looks up at me with his piercing green eyes, "I want to choose you."
"Really?" I ask him, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, but only if you want me to." he replies.
"Of course I want you to. Living with a friend is far better an option than living with some Elite Stanger," I reply coyly.
"Is that all we are?" He asks me with a half-smile, "Friends?"
"Harry…I—" I start, but I can't think of the words. No, we aren't just friends! I want to yell, but can't. I can't bring myself to admit the words. I'm afraid to; afraid of what could happen if I admit it.
I stare into Harry's eyes. He messy chestnut hair failing over them. I look down at his lips: plump and inviting. My heart is still racing from my run here. Or is it racing from being with him? I can't find the words, so I act: I lunge forward at him.