Deya Glaines stood by her parents, hesitantly, as she watched the officer
approach them. He was from the I.F. – solidly built, muscular, and very
handsome. He looked to be about twenty-one years old. She looked from her
mother to her father, and then to her little sister Jane nervously. Deya
was about seven years old – brown wavy hair past her shoulders and dark
blue eyes to match the jean skirt she was wearing. Her face was slim and
elegant, and she looked well taken care of and nice-looking. Rounded cheeks
stuck out slightly, adding a jolly look to her. Her eyes added a serious
tone to her facial structure, as she calmly gazed at the I.F. agent.
Her little sister, Jane, smiled and waved energetically at him from where she stood next to their mother and father. "Hiiiiii!" she cried. Red-gold hair bounced up and down as she hopped energetically.
The I.F. officer said nothing, his facial expression the same. He looked in the direction of the family with ease, saying nothing but walking in a business-like manner over to them.
Deya shook her head, peering down at her sister. Jane could be so bubbly. She ran her hand through her dark brown, wavy hair, and watched the officer intently. He seemed a bit nervous, expressionless as he was. His hands stayed at his side when he walked, as if clenching them to stop them from shaking.
Finally, the officer reached them. He glanced at their house, behind them. "Nice house, hm?" he said casually, glancing at the huge, white mansion. Freshly mowed grass in the front, with shady trees towering over the Glaines'. The mansion was rather big, as most mansions are... there were many windows, and it looked quite old-fashioned.
"Yes..." said Deya's mother, Rilla. She glanced at her husband uneasily, as if saying 'What is he doing here?' although she knew the answer. Deya was a genius, as well as her sister Jane. She turned her attention back to the I.F. officer, brushing a few strands of red-gold from her white, powdered face.
"Hello miss," he said. "I've come to deliver a letter. All questions you have you may ask right now." The officer looked importantly at Rilla, then turned his gaze to the father.
"What is it?" Deya interrupted, trembling slightly, her brow furrowed. Could she have been... no, it couldn't be. None of her family had ever been accepted.
The officer smiled sadly. "You've been accepted to Battleschool."
The immediate response from Mrs. Glaines was negative. "No!" she cried. "No! You can't take my child away! Not when there's a war going on!" She clung onto the shoulders of Deya and looked at the officer with open horror. Tears started coursing down her cheeks slowly, almost like a flowing river.
"I'm sorry, but our country needs her. I have the authority to take her away right now."
"But... she's only seven! And she's a girl, for goodness' sake!"
Deya rounded on her mother, angry. "What's wrong with a girl going to Battleschool?" she said fiercely.
"Honey, the rules have changed. It's a lot harder at the Battleschool. Do you know what boot camp is?" Mrs. Glaines asked in a quiet whisper.
"Yes, mother," said Deya irritably. "I do. I'm not stupid."
"I know you aren't dear, but I'm just afraid for you..." said Mrs. Glaines, clutching her hand protectively. She turned to Mr. Glaines. "Grenold!" she cried. "Are you allowing her to?"
Mr. Glaines looked agitated. "Rilla..." he said.
"Don't you 'Rilla' me, Grenold!" cried Mrs. Glaines, angry and bristling. "We are NOT allowing her to go there! That place is like the devil's lair!"
"No it's not! You don't know!" said Mr. Glaines, raising his voice. He shifted uncomfortably and looked back at the officer. "Rilla, please, not now, not in front of him."
Deya shook. She'd never seen her parents this passionate before. "I want to go, Mother!"
"You can't. I'm not letting you!" Tears that were flowing started afresh, and Mrs. Glaines' broken sobs pierced the empty streets.
The officer turned away sharply with a small sigh. "It's all right, ma'am, I'm sure the Battleschool will take great care of your child."
"It doesn't matter! She's not leaving! She's not NOT coming back for ten years or more!" Mrs. Glaines stomped her foot in anger and frustration. "Do you hear me? SHE'S NOT!" Her throat stuck midway and she went back to crying. Mrs. Glaines looked at her husband with frustration, shook her head, and continued.
"Miss, we're not going to keep her that long..." The officer was, apparently, uncomfortable with the sudden onset of tears and emotion.
"Oh, you know perfectly well how long you people can keep her!" shouted Mrs. Glaines. Chubby cheeks stood out, bright red with anger.
Two more officers approached, carrying guns from the I.F. car. They were both dressed in dark blue I.F. suits. "Mrs. Glaines, please, unless you want to get hurt, we're taking Deya."
"No!" she cried, trying to wrestle Deya away from the two strong officers with one hand, while one hand holding onto Jane. Jane stood there, mesmerized as she watched, for once silent.
Mr. Glaines held Mrs. Glaines back half-heartedly, looking sadly at Deya. "Deya," he whispered. "Deya, make us proud. We both love you."
Deya nodded, trying to stay strong, as she watched her half-hysterical mother push past the officers in vain.
She was going to Battleschool.
Her little sister, Jane, smiled and waved energetically at him from where she stood next to their mother and father. "Hiiiiii!" she cried. Red-gold hair bounced up and down as she hopped energetically.
The I.F. officer said nothing, his facial expression the same. He looked in the direction of the family with ease, saying nothing but walking in a business-like manner over to them.
Deya shook her head, peering down at her sister. Jane could be so bubbly. She ran her hand through her dark brown, wavy hair, and watched the officer intently. He seemed a bit nervous, expressionless as he was. His hands stayed at his side when he walked, as if clenching them to stop them from shaking.
Finally, the officer reached them. He glanced at their house, behind them. "Nice house, hm?" he said casually, glancing at the huge, white mansion. Freshly mowed grass in the front, with shady trees towering over the Glaines'. The mansion was rather big, as most mansions are... there were many windows, and it looked quite old-fashioned.
"Yes..." said Deya's mother, Rilla. She glanced at her husband uneasily, as if saying 'What is he doing here?' although she knew the answer. Deya was a genius, as well as her sister Jane. She turned her attention back to the I.F. officer, brushing a few strands of red-gold from her white, powdered face.
"Hello miss," he said. "I've come to deliver a letter. All questions you have you may ask right now." The officer looked importantly at Rilla, then turned his gaze to the father.
"What is it?" Deya interrupted, trembling slightly, her brow furrowed. Could she have been... no, it couldn't be. None of her family had ever been accepted.
The officer smiled sadly. "You've been accepted to Battleschool."
The immediate response from Mrs. Glaines was negative. "No!" she cried. "No! You can't take my child away! Not when there's a war going on!" She clung onto the shoulders of Deya and looked at the officer with open horror. Tears started coursing down her cheeks slowly, almost like a flowing river.
"I'm sorry, but our country needs her. I have the authority to take her away right now."
"But... she's only seven! And she's a girl, for goodness' sake!"
Deya rounded on her mother, angry. "What's wrong with a girl going to Battleschool?" she said fiercely.
"Honey, the rules have changed. It's a lot harder at the Battleschool. Do you know what boot camp is?" Mrs. Glaines asked in a quiet whisper.
"Yes, mother," said Deya irritably. "I do. I'm not stupid."
"I know you aren't dear, but I'm just afraid for you..." said Mrs. Glaines, clutching her hand protectively. She turned to Mr. Glaines. "Grenold!" she cried. "Are you allowing her to?"
Mr. Glaines looked agitated. "Rilla..." he said.
"Don't you 'Rilla' me, Grenold!" cried Mrs. Glaines, angry and bristling. "We are NOT allowing her to go there! That place is like the devil's lair!"
"No it's not! You don't know!" said Mr. Glaines, raising his voice. He shifted uncomfortably and looked back at the officer. "Rilla, please, not now, not in front of him."
Deya shook. She'd never seen her parents this passionate before. "I want to go, Mother!"
"You can't. I'm not letting you!" Tears that were flowing started afresh, and Mrs. Glaines' broken sobs pierced the empty streets.
The officer turned away sharply with a small sigh. "It's all right, ma'am, I'm sure the Battleschool will take great care of your child."
"It doesn't matter! She's not leaving! She's not NOT coming back for ten years or more!" Mrs. Glaines stomped her foot in anger and frustration. "Do you hear me? SHE'S NOT!" Her throat stuck midway and she went back to crying. Mrs. Glaines looked at her husband with frustration, shook her head, and continued.
"Miss, we're not going to keep her that long..." The officer was, apparently, uncomfortable with the sudden onset of tears and emotion.
"Oh, you know perfectly well how long you people can keep her!" shouted Mrs. Glaines. Chubby cheeks stood out, bright red with anger.
Two more officers approached, carrying guns from the I.F. car. They were both dressed in dark blue I.F. suits. "Mrs. Glaines, please, unless you want to get hurt, we're taking Deya."
"No!" she cried, trying to wrestle Deya away from the two strong officers with one hand, while one hand holding onto Jane. Jane stood there, mesmerized as she watched, for once silent.
Mr. Glaines held Mrs. Glaines back half-heartedly, looking sadly at Deya. "Deya," he whispered. "Deya, make us proud. We both love you."
Deya nodded, trying to stay strong, as she watched her half-hysterical mother push past the officers in vain.
She was going to Battleschool.
