Free A Thread of Time: Firesetter, Book 1 by J. Naomi Ay

and
her insistence that I take a needle, which brought the most cherished days of
my life.  Instead, at that moment, I left with anger in my heart for not once
did she congratulate me on my acceptance.  Not once did she say, ‘Good work,
Ailana.’
    Neither did Embo, who was preoccupied with
her little family and never cared much for me anyway.  The feeling was mutual,
although for Grandmother, we faked affection.  Since the arrival of Embo’s
husband and baby, Taul, our precious space seemed overly cramped, as well as
overly noisy.
    Taul was a difficult infant, prone to
screaming throughout the night, making it impossible for anyone to sleep. 
Neither could we work, or study during the day.  We snapped at each other
incessantly, blaming one another for our bad humor, which made an already
difficult situation simply unbearable.
    “One less person in this house is a good
thing,” Embo remarked, as the two of us air kissed and mumbled false words
about how we might miss one another.
     
    I took a bus across the continent, the
cheapest means of travel I could afford, having saved coins from every bit of
sewing in the last year.  I rented a room in a boarding house adjacent to the
university’s campus, which included a shared bath, a well-worn cot, and access
to a communal kitchen. 
    After settling in, I walked about the
campus, relishing my new found freedom in this grand atmosphere of higher
learning.  My eyes soaked in the ancient stately buildings, the green swept
lawns bordered by blossoming cherry trees and the beautiful, intelligent
students congregating beneath them.  I felt blessed to be here amongst them,
although I considered myself just as worthy and smart.  Unfortunately, neither
my blessings, nor brains were sufficient to keep me there.
    Within six months’ time, I had run out of
funds.  Within six months’ time, I was expelled from the university.  In our
tiny ghetto back in our little corner of Farku, my scholastic abilities were
impressive.  In this great university, in this once great Imperial city, my intelligence
was only slightly above average, while my study habits were exceedingly poor.
    It was my own fault.  Never before had I
been so far from my grandmother’s protective wings with so much excitement at
my disposal and the freedom to take advantage of it all.  And, I did, for in my
six months at the university, those learned professors taught me only one
thing.  I was part of the generation that would see our hopes dashed.  We had
lost both our parents and siblings to the Disease.  We had watched the once
brilliant Empire crumble around us, and with it, the promise of our future. 
The precipice was directly ahead, with a path guaranteed to be steep, so there
was nothing to do but celebrate; drink, dance, and make love. 
    I took this lesson to heart and I partied
with the best of them.  I lived for the moment because they convinced me that
was all I would have.  The future was bleak, the learned men said.  There was
only now, and now would be gone by tomorrow, so live for today and never look
back.
    Six months later, I was alone, unable to
pay for my room, with no classes to attend.  My so-called friends had no use
for me anymore either.  Without my university admittance, I was no longer one
of them.  Instead, I became one of the many nobodies who lived upon the street.
    It was spring then, and fortunately, a
warm one, for without anywhere else, I found myself spending each night on a
city park bench.  That was if I could find an empty bench.  Otherwise, a tree
or patch of scraggly grass would do.  Once or twice, I tried to sleep on
cement. 
    During the day, I went in search of
employment, something that was becoming more difficult to obtain, especially
for a young Karut woman from Farku.  At night, I lay wherever I might, my coat
and small bindle bag as a blanket and pillow, staring at the sky and wondering
where I would end up. 
    Sometimes, I would imagine myself