Page 28 of The Commons

“And she does care. Just not in the way you want her to. Never do this again, okay? Or I’ll kill you,” she teases, making me smile.

“The pain of death is nothing compared to what I just did to myself! My arms are killing me.” I chuckle in a self-deprecating laugh to cloud the pulsating pain.

She pulls me closer, wrapping her arms around me.

I hated the feeling of pain, the feeling of hurting myself and not taking care of myself. It was that day that I realized why my parents adopted Levon—so we would have each other. Whatever their reason, it was a wonderful thing they did for both of us!

Beep… Beep… As I am relieving these dark memories, the second part of the test begins. The ring floating device above is pulled down and morphs itself into a drawing screen. I see the mini-timer on the right-side of my peripheral vision that is set to 4 hours. This is supposed to feel like 4 minutes, so I am ready to sprint in this mind marathon.

I hear an automated voice whisper in a ghost-like voice, “Write what you are thinking about. Then select an animal icon that represents your train of thoughts. You have one second to answer each question.”

I begin to feel dizzy. I select my answers, urging my pen to pick up on my first instincts.

What makes you feel happy?

I write winning this challenge and match it with a lion icon.

What makes you feel sad?

I put down: not thinking enough about me and I match it with a dolphin.

What makes you feel angry?

I scribble not pleasing myself and I match it with a shark.

What makes you feel pain?

I think losing my vision, but I scrawl: not talking to my parents and I match it with a goldfish.

What makes you feel like it’s all over?

Struggling to push my numb fingers to write, I start to inscribe my answer: Not finding myself and I match it with… (I don’t remember).

I wake up, and it’s all over. I roll over, cheeks pressed on a pillow. I open one eye and look around. I am in my dorm room. I’m not quite sure when the Cognitive Test ended or how I got here. I don’t know what I said—or if I remembered the code. Did I pass the test? Did I fail? Did they see right through me?

I have no clue.

Zia is stirring in her bed next to mine, shaking and mumbling, “Please, I want to stay. Please don’t kick me out! Please! I love The Commons! This is where I belong! This is where I belong!”

She seems to be having a nightmare. I want to wake her up, but before I can, she jumps up, panting profusely.

“Zia, are you okay?” I ask.

I notice her arms shaking and turning red.

“Don’t come any closer!” she says. Her eyes meet mine, and she charges to the restroom to throw up.

I can’t imagine what she went through. She seems to have experienced a traumatic side effect from the test. I can’t remember what happened to me, but I feel fine in my physical body. I wonder if that will help my test score? I will not find out my results for six weeks. But I don’t have six weeks to waste.

I’m sure Pesh knows my results and if they are good enough. I must talk to him to find out what the study abroad program really is, if there even is such a thing. And moreover, I have been in The Commons now for a week and have only taken one test, but my suspicions about The Commons have already been confirmed—it is a controlling monster seeking to devour my mind. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic, but wouldn’t you be dramatic if you had been freakin’ drugged up for 24 hours and woke up knowing nothing?

My thoughts flash back on how, during the Cognitive Test, a part of me began to feel like finding Levon was a part of me finding myself. It was so easy for me to replace her with myself in that test—like if I failed her, I would fail me, and if I lost her forever, I would lose me.

She was always there to give me direction and tell me what’s next. That’s when I have an odd thought, one I’d never thought of before—if I don’t succeed in this, what really can I succeed in?

I roll out of bed just as the dorm alarm clock goes off at our usual 4 a.m. wake up time. That’s when I remember—it’s O week. It is time for my Oratory training classes and for me to learn what the Oratory Test will entail. It is just class, not a test, so it shouldn’t be so bad, right?

I approach the Oratory Building. It is an O-shaped building made of transparent glass. I enter and walk through the white-colored hallway with silver and transparent flooring that reflects my image. Everyone around me is focused on walking to class in tranquil silence. That is the way of The Commons; however, as I go further into the building, I begin to hear more whispers than I have ever heard in any building at The Commons. I can’t discern the words I am hearing but I look on the white wall beside me to see an inscription: Only Silent Speaking Allowed in the O Zone.