10:07 am
At the breakfast table, my family and I eat like we are all to be Changed, rather than just me. My sister chokes down her eggs between tears, my father repeatedly straightens his tie, and my mother doesn't take her eyes off of me all throughout the meal, even while she chews her food. In fact, my father and sister continually glance at me as well, but quickly hide their eyes when I look up. I pretend not to notice.
"Any plans for today, buddy?" my father inquires.
"Excuse me?" It's not me that responds, but my sister.
"I asked if he had any plans for today," my father repeats. "He does have the full day to himself."
"To do what?" My sister rises up from her seat. She looks angry. Very angry. "What could he do? Is he supposed to enjoy himself?"
My father looks stunned. My sister has never raised her voice to him before. That was always me. I was always the "argumentative type", as they used to say.
"Darci…I…"
"Your great-grandfather is the one who passed the law. You know how it works. And yet mysteriously you didn't find a loophole TO SAVE YOUR OWN DAMN SON! JUST WHAT ARE YOU, THAT YOU DON'T LOVE YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD?!"
By now my sister's face is apple red, and her face is contorted into an expression of absolute fury. She points a finger at my father, whose face is torn between shock and sadness. "I will take your job when you die, but I will never be like you," she hisses. She storms away. The front door slams. A car engine roars to life and fades away.
My father buries his face in his hands. His shoulders heave as he sobs, tears running down his wrists. Then, very suddenly, he stops. He stands up, rubbing his chin, the way he does when he thinks. His eyes blaze with invisible fire, and he dashes away from the table. I am left sitting with my mother, who blankly stares at the wall. She, too, gets up and shuffles away, leaving me on my own, staring at my plate of food, completely untouched.
12:37
It's lunchtime.
My mother has prepared one of her pre-programmed recipes: grilled cheese and tomato soup.
My father is still at home; unusual, but unnoticed.
My sister still has not returned.
I have never had extended separation from her, so I wear a somber expression. I pick at my food, much like at breakfast, but even more so now. I miss her. My father apparently does too, because he continuously turns and looks at the door. He seems very nervous, and from the way he keeps wiping his hands on his pants, his palms are sweaty. His palms only sweat when he's anxiously waiting for something, and that doesn't happen very often. But waiting for my sister wouldn't get him this nervous, would it?
A knock at the door breaks the sea of silence and makes us all jump. My father dashes to the window. He nods, runs to the door, and yanks it open. A girl I have never seen before stands there. She is wearing combat fatigues and has a bandolier of .50 caliber ammunition slung across her chest. On her head is a black beret, but from the looks of her, I'd say she's anything but French. Slung into her belt are several different sizes of knives. Behind her stands a waiting car, an old black Hummer. Why she would use that, I really can't say. It's practically an antique. Interrupting my thoughts, my father speaks.
"Hello, Janine."
The mysterious girl responds in a soft voice.
"Hello, Frederik."
Now I know something is going on. No one ever calls my father by his first name. It's technically against the law. Not many people even know what his name is.
"Is the boy ready to go?" Janine's whisper inquires.
"Yes"
"Does he have his supplies?"
"Yes."
"Does he know how to fire a gun?"
"What?"
This time, I answer. The girl regards me with astonishment and, for some reason, disgust. My father looks at me in about the same manner.
"Jett, be silent."
"Why?"
"Because…" he trails off.
"Because this is none of your business," the girl interjects. "This is between me and your father."
"Janine! Don't speak to Jett like that!"
"I'll speak to him as I please!"
"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!" I roar. This time, they both look at me with fury etched into their faces. Janine pulls something out of a compartment on her belt. It is a small glass syringe, filled with a fluorescent green liquid. She grabs my arm, yanks me towards her, and slips the syringe into my neck. Immediately, I begin to slip in and out of consciousness, catching only snatches of conversation between Janine and my father.
"Will…be safe?
"…take…secure location…"
"My…will kill…find out…"
And then I finally pass out.