Blue Eyes

Today, I am 5843 days old, my mirror reminds me as I get ready for the day. Tomorrow I will be turning sixteen, along with every male and female born in my year. There will be a ceremony and the assigning of our mates, the ones who we will spend the rest of our lives with.

I can't say that I'm not afraid. What if my mate and I don't get along? What if he abuses me? What if he doesn't like me? If he thinks I'm homely? Mother says that I shouldn't worry. The committee decides our mate based on our personality, so it should be fine. I can't help but think, though, about what could happen.

I stare into the mirror that reflects my image, an average girl with a heart shaped face and blonde hair. It falls like a curtain over my shoulders and down to my elbows. I'm overdue for a haircut. A few freckles dot my nose, but those will be taken care of after the sixteens ceremony. My eyebrows, brown, are neatly groomed to compliment me. I look a lot like all of the other females my age, except for my eyes. They are pale blue and lifeless, unlike the deep brown that is the usual. I've seen two others with eyes like mine, both males. It makes me different; it separates me. I wish that I was hatched with eyes like the others, but instead I got these sad blue orbs. Before I get angry, I turn away from the mirror and into the closet where Model 22, our unit's robot, has my outfit ready.

M22 is more than just a voice on a pixel screen to me. I know it's strange, feeling as if a robot is part of your family, but she's been with me since I was a newborn. M22 makes almost all of our decisions, from exercise, recreation, meals, to the naming or the young. I thank her before changing into the flowy green top and tight, white pants that she has for me. It's modest but appealing. I slip into a pair of my favorite flats before rushing into the dining room for my morning meal.

Mother and Father both sit, motionless, at the table. They sip their usual hot drinks, reading the surface as it displays today's events. I slide into my chair, and it makes a sad scraping sound that causes them both to look up with irritated expressions in their eyes. Mother puts on a pained, fake smile.

"Taya. Darling. How many times must I tell you? Greet us before sitting down. It's the polite thing to do," Father nods in agreement. I refrain from groaning out loud, wanting to walk right back into my quarters. Instead, I paste an equally fake smile on my face and fold my hands in my lap.

"My apologies, Mother," I politely nod in her direction and then in Father's. "I'm just excited about the sixteens ceremony. My thoughts must have distracted me." They both let out quiet mumbles and we return to our food.

My morning meal is made up of one bowl of warm oats and a glass of teal colored juice. The watery substance is mandatory, but tastes foul. Every age has a different color, so they aren't mixed up. I'm guessing that mine has some sort of hormone balance agent in it. One day, a month or two ago, I was in a rush and skipped my juice against the law. Later in the day, I began getting severe abdominal pain and a headache. During my midday meal, I drank the juice and felt fine afterwards. I haven't skipped it since, in fear that the events would repeat.

I gulp down my drink and am on the last bite of the plain oats when Citrus and Blossom, my two younger sisters, dash into the room. They drag along with them streamers, laughing and dancing. I can't hold back a giggle as Citrus, clumsy as ever, trips over her own feet and falls onto her back. Blossom, light and dainty, tip toes over her and doesn't miss a beat. Even Mother is amused by their silly antics. However, M22 ruins the mood by sternly criticizing the twins for playing out of recreation time. They frown, then mope over to their spots at the table, where the two pretend to gag at the plain meal before them.

"Blossom. Citrus. You two look absolutely adorable today! M22 did a great job at organizing your outfits," Mother says, looking down at them, or rather, Blossom with proud admiration.

"Thank you, Mother," They chime, playing with their food. Being twins, I can't believe how different the two are. Blossom is graceful, dainty, respectful, pretty, and an all out perfect child with long brown hair and big eyes. All of the adults love and admire her. However, they don't know what she hides under that bright smile. Blossom is extremely mischievous, always devising new plans for an illegal escape from Mother and Father. Citrus, on the other hand, is quiet and reserved. She has wavy blonde hair, not unlike mine, and is the most boyish girl in Terra Nuo. She is rarely seen without dirt on her cheery face, or with her braid almost undone. Many officials have had to tell her to tighten the band around her hair, as it is a strict law that all unwed girls should keep their hair tied at all times in public. Citrus doesn't much mind rules, though. She and I are much alike.

After watching my family finish their morning meal, I excuse myself and hurry out of the door. I'd rather not risk being late to the rehearsals of the sixteens ceremony. If I'm too tardy, they might not let me in. Then how would I know where to stand during the commencement speech?

By the time I get to the Main Hall, almost every sixteen in Terra Nuo is there. I exchange polite nods with a few that I recognize, but when I see Hawk, I practically leap into his arms. He chuckles in that deep way of his, and embraces me. We've been friends since we were twos, at the start of our educational careers. It's frowned upon, being more than acquaintances with a member of the opposite sex, but we do it anyway. There's no one in this world that I can relate to more than him.

Hawk tugs at a lock of my hair, grinning. "Where have you been? It seems like I haven't seen you in ages!" I smile, glad that someone appreciates me.

"I have a life, you know!" I exclaim, jokingly. "You're not the only person who I hang out with,"

"I'm flattered," he says, a fake pout on his lips. Our conversation is stopped short by a sharp voice at the intercom, telling us to get into our positions. Hawk glances at me, almost sadly, and hugs me again. "Meet me at the recreation park afterwards?" He whispers softly.

"Why not?" And we part ways.