I choose to walk home to avoid having to discuss my results with anybody. My old navy sneakers making a steady pattern on the hard concrete. No matter how boring it sounds, the Bathnegation lifestyle looks appealing when you're walking next to it, but when your in it, somehow I don't get the same positive vibe. I keep my head low and try to clear my mind, but the one word still floats in my head. I try to push it back, but it sneaks it's way back up every time. Detergent. In my blood. I was born with it. It doesn't make sense. Why doesn't Caleb have it? Or does he? Are we both dangers to society?
"Excuse me?" I halt to look at a factionless man crouching on the sidewalk. "Would you have anything for me to wash with in that pretty sack of yours, deaire?" The word, no, almost slips out of my mouth, but the Bathnegation people have taught me a little. I slip my hand into my satchel and pull out a fresh bar of soap. He takes the soap and smells it. Then licks it. I start to walk again, but he calls after me.
"Aren't you young to be walking alone on the streets?"
"I'm 16!" I snap at him. The man was getting on my nerves. He disregards my cruel tone of voice and keeps talking.
"Ah, don't forget, tomorrow's a special day for you, choose wisely. After all one choice will change the way you wash forever." I half-smile at him and continue past. With the detergent in my blood I could choose almost whatever I want. I sigh. My results are supposed to be secret. No matter what I choose the detergent must never show.
•••
My watch reads 5:43pm. My parents will probably be worried by now. I quicken my pace as my small house comes into view. I burst through the door. Caleb, Mother, and Father are all sitting around the dinner table.
"Beatide!" Father says.
"I'm fine! I just wanted to walk home,"I say. He nods approvingly. After we scrub our hands with soap, the food is distributed equally and the leftovers are carefully set aside for later, we start the meal.
"Tell me, what's troubling you?" Mother asks Father. Caleb and I keep our heads low, according to the rule children shouldn't speak unless spoken to, as always, Soap before People. It's a stupid rule. When the five factions were created after the Great Soap War, the leaders decided that cleanliness was the answer to no blood be spilled anywhere. I guess they took it to the extreme and now my whole life is based on bubbles and suds!
Mother and Father continue their quite conversation about Cleandor.
"What?" I say. Caleb raises his eyebrows at me. "I wanna know what yur talking about"
"Beatide, don't speak with your mouth full." my mother says.
"Well," Father starts "We were discussing the Odorite ruler" I swallow my food. J'clean Matthews. Probably the most well known soap genius of the century. They say she created the washing machine!
"J'clean started a horrible rumor about Marcsuds. She says the reason his son, Tubias, left Bathnegation for Dustless is that Marcsuds was such a horrible soap molder, that Tubias couldn't stand it." Father says. I almost choke on the potatoes. It's very rare that somebody chooses to leave Bathnegation. When they do, everybody makes a huge deal about it. I suddenly feel my stomach drop, replaced by a pit of guilt. If I chose to leave Bathnegation it will dishonor my family. Maybe nobody will buy their soap, they could become factionless.
"May I be excused, Mother?" I ask. She nods. I clear my plate and scrub it down with some soap that Caleb molded yesterday. Raspberry scented. The gulity pit in my stomach grows bigger and bigger. Every second I spent takes me closer and closer to the moment I will have to chose my fate. I put the plate back on the shelf and go to bed. Tomorrow is the Choosing Ceremony. Most kids have it easy. They know exactly where they what they want to wash for the rest of there life. What am I supposed to do? It's not like I can chose all three factions that Squeaky told me. I have to chose one, but no matter what I do I will always be detergent.
"Hey," Caleb walks into my room.
"How did your test go?" I ask.
"Good, I guess," he says.
"Do you think you'll stay." I ask him.
"I don't know Beatide, sometimes we just have to think about ourselves, how we want to wash."
•••
"Welcome to the Choosing Cermony!" Marcsuds stands on the podium and speaks loudly into a microphone. "Standing before you are this year's 16 year olds. Ahead of them, is a very tough choice. Whatever they do with the washing supplies layed in front of them will determine their friends, beliefs, loyalties, and most of all, how they wash every day. Their choices, Bathnegation, where washing your hands isn't frequent. Nevertheless, they have supplied us with bars and bars and bars of soap. Cleandor-" My head tunes out as he describes the 5 factions. Considering each option, but throwing away as quick as it enters my mind. My brain is turning to mush as he keeps talking. Bathnegation, Cleandor, Dustless, Odorite, Laundrity. No! They all sound good. I want to be in all of them! I want to be detergent! Let the world know! NO!
The first girl is called. She stumbles up to the stage in a green Laundrity dress. Carefully, she picks up the washing board and smiles. That means she's decided to stick with her faction. The crowd claps polietly. More Laundrity children go. Most stay, but a few transfer. Even two transfered to Dustless. Next comes the Cleandor kids. The majority of them transfer. Cleandors are known for doing what they want. One child takes 5 minutes and ends up choosing the soap mold, Bathnegation. Soap before People, Soap before People, but which soap? I can't choose!
"Beatide Prior, from Bathnegation" my heart stops. Are they actually calling my name? Caleb nudges me.
"Go," he whispers. I stand up. My knees wobble. Just one foot in front of the other. OK that's one step. One more, yes. I am at the podium. Layed out in front of me are 5 objects. A soap mold, a washing board, a model of a washing machine, a duster, and a stick of deoderant. I reach out my hand towards the soap mold, but then pull it back. Suddenly my hand jerks forward, I can't even remember if I wanted it too, but it grabs the duster.
"NO!" I yell. The crowd gasps. I just transfered myself in to Dustless. A Bathnegation into Dustless. The guilty pit in my stomach has expanded over my whole body. I sit back down. It's Caleb's turn. He strides up to the table and grabs the deoderant. I can't believe it. Mom and Dad must be crushed. Losing both of their kids. I look at them in the crowd. Dad's face is stern, but Mom is forcing a smile. Caleb takes his seat next to me. The Choosing Ceremony goes by really fast, or maybe that's just the guilty pit taking over my brain. I can't think. When we are asked to join our factions, I can barely walk. A tear drips our of my eye. I brush it away quickly. I am Dustless now, Dustless don't cry.