Free Shymers by Jen Naumann

not. My stomach lurches and my head spins. I want nothing more in this moment than my mother’s arms around me, and for her to tell me everything will be all right. All day I have tried to push away the visions of her locked in a small room all by herself. I have tried to ignore the nagging sensation that my life is about to forever change into something dark and direful, where I will forever be forced to hide under sun canopies and speak only after being spoken to.
    But a life without love is just too much.
    The only glimmer of hope I can see is not much better. I am a Futur e , after all. I will live past eighteen. I wouldn’t have to live this way if I didn’t want to. I may have a chance at love with someone other than Harrison—but not with anyone naturally good-looking as he is. Only with those strange, clone-like blondes who are cruel.
    Why did Bree and the other all assume I’m a Shymer? Why did the Futures automatically judge me like I’m one?
    I sit tall and turn to Bree. “How did you know?”
    She squints at me. “Know what?”
    “Know that I’m a Shymer, like you. You know I come from the Free Lands where my parents kept me away from this life. Why did you just assume I was one of you?”
    She chuckles nervously. When I don’t smile or show any signs that I’m joking, her mouth drops. Her eyes flicker to the others sitting nearby. She stares at me for a moment and swallows slowly. “You know. Because of the mark.”
    I shake my head, frowning. “What mark?”
    “The mark they give Shymers at birth.”
    I still have no idea what she could possibly be talking about. I haven’t noticed a mark on her or any of the others.
    Bree sucks in her breath and gathers her hair to the opposite side, pointing to a spot just behind her ear without the communicator. A glowing mark no bigger than her smallest fingernail pulsates against her skin, as if alive. It almost looks to be some kind of light, shining from within.
    “You’ve had that your whole life?” I ask, reaching out to brush my fingertips against it. Her skin is soft and smooth, giving no indication of an indent or a change in temperature where the mark is.
    She drops her hair and turns to me, her face contorted. Her eyes dance between mine, like she’s still waiting for me to tell her I am only joking. “Olive, I thought you would know. I mean…I figured someone would have told you by now.”
    Part of me is filled with blinding panic, while another part wishes she would just spit it out already. I grab her arm. “Told me what?”
    Her lips settle into a line and she sighs. “It’s how I knew you were a Shymer the minute I first saw you. Olive, you have the same mark behind your ear.”

6 – Welcome to the Traverse Orphanage
     
     
    The shuttle lurches to a stop. This time my hea d doe s slam into the seat ahead of us. The two girls to my right giggle. I moan, rubbing the top of my head where a dull ache spreads.
    A tall and large, muscular boy sitting ahead of me leans over the seat, scowling. “What—?” He stops short when I tilt my head up to look at him. Maybe he knows I am new, or maybe he has heard I’m the girl from the Free Lands. Whatever the reason, he grumbles to himself and rises to follow the others to the doorway.
    “Let me see,” Bree says, examining the top of my head. After a second she tugs on my elbow. “There’s no blood. I think you’re going to live.”
    “I hope so,” I mutter.
    Bree giggles. “Let’s go.”
    Other than the violent stabbing pain to my head, my body is numb from Bree’s shocking disclosure. We only ever had one small, broken shard of mirror my mother found discarded in the forest. Because of this, I have never seen behind my own ears. I have never even seen the back of my head.
    My parents and Taylor’s family were the only ones I have ever been close to. Why wouldn’t anyone have told me? Did Taylor know what it was? Since I have never seen the mark before, Taylor herself must have