Privilege is the first book in the Peaceful Society trilogy by Megan Wobus.
This young adult dystopian romance is set in a tightly controlled society.
Advance reader copies on Bookfunnel now.
Available on on Amazon and these other platforms.
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Join me on YouTube as I dive into the full alternative timeline and world building of the Peaceful Society and how we got from our reality in 2016 to a world without weapons in 2026!
Three Chapter Sample
Three Chapter Sample
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Baltimore, Maryland 2034
“Amity Bloome!” my mother shouts urgently from the bottom of the stairs of our Baltimore rowhouse. I crack my eyes open. The morning sunlight is streaming through the window of my tiny bedroom, squished in the middle of the upstairs.“Hang on, I’m almost done,” I call and take a deep breath, trying to settle down into the last minute of my Twenty. It’s no use, my thoughts are racing now and the calm, detached feeling is slipping away.When my timer beeps I shut it off and stumble down the hall to the pale, tiled bathroom still in my pajamas. I’m wearing a soft, worn T-shirt I adopted from my dad, and loose shorts.I hear steps on the stairs. She must be coming up to check on me. There’s a loud knock on the door.“How’s it going, Amity? Do you need anything?” I tug the door open and reveal my mother’s narrow, tan face staring back at me. She is tall and pretty, in a way that blends with the power she exudes, her natural command.She has sharp cheekbones, full lips, and blue eyes like my own, with long brown hair in a braid down her back. The only differences between us are the streaks of gray around her temples and the wrinkles that tighten the corners of her eyes and deepen her smile.If you can get a smile out of Calista Bloome, you’re doing exceptionally well.I haven’t answered her questions but she already has more. “You did your Twenty?” she checks.“Of course.” I haven’t needed a reminder to do my required morning meditation for years. She’s anxious.“You need to be out the door by eight,” she reminds me sharply, turning on her heel. “In your school uniform,” she tosses back from down the hall.I could stretch it to 8:15 and still get to the courthouse on time but I don’t argue, just shove my toothbrush back in the holder and listen to her stepping briskly back downstairs, the quick staccato of her shoes on the wooden steps.Today is a huge day for me. Thinking back to what the speaker said at graduation yesterday has my heart pumping with anticipation.“City College High School, class of 2034, tomorrow you have the opportunity to take your Oath and make your commitment to the Peaceful Society of Greater Maryland.” The speaker was smiling but her eyes were wide open and grave. “It’s a privilege many of our mothers and grandmothers never had a chance to enjoy.“We have many reasons to be thankful. All of us owe our lives and safety to the sacrifices our mothers and the martyrs of the Peaceful Society made for us. I sincerely encourage each one of you,” her eyes flicked around the room, slowing on the groups of young men sitting in the audience, “to fully embrace the opportunities we offer every Citizen regardless of race, creed, or gender.” She said the last word with a straight face but there was a low hum from the boys in the room.Another reason I’m in a hurry. Zeph. He sat next to me in the crowded auditorium, his pale skin and red hair as familiar as my own brown locks. Ever since the Integration, when everything changed, he’s lived around the corner, always knocked on my door or I’ve knocked on his.I was ten when the war happened and everything changed; a lot of my friends moved away. But that was when Zeph moved in around the corner. After the Integration we explored the streets, safe with security stations sprouting on every block like the newly planted trees, ready to call a Security Officer within minutes any time, night or day.Zeph and I were both children of women who fought in the Integration and stayed to build the Peaceful Society. The safety of the streets, each inch of city monitored and safeguarded, made our mothers giddy with the freedom they indulgently pushed on us. The Privilege of safety, provided by the Peaceful Society.“Go, go anywhere,” my mother would encourage me. “You can explore all of Baltimore, Amity, the whole city is safe. The whole city is yours.”I buzz around my tiny bedroom, pulling on my uniform and grabbing what I need to take to the courthouse. The walls are pale blue and my bed is narrow against the wall. I yank the blanket up and straighten the pillow. It’s uncommonly neat in here since I might be leaving, tomorrow even, after I’ve made my Oath.It’s quiet downstairs. My little brother Ethan is already at school. My dad greets me with a wide grin. He’s eating eggs and toast before he leaves for his job at the WPA, the Works Progress Administration, that employs most of the men in our neighborhood.I wiggle my feet into sneakers as my mom flits about, fretting. She must have delayed going to work to make sure I got off okay. It’s silly we can’t go together, since she works at the courthouse, but the rules are I go to Oath Day without a parent or guardian.There can be no hint that taking the Oath and committing myself fully to the Peaceful Society is anything other than my own decision. It’s also why we can’t take the Oath until we graduate from high school.“Bye, Dad,” I call into the house and my mom follows me onto the porch.“Are you still planning to sign up for HighClear?” she asks, checking for the hundredth time.“Yes, absolutely,” I assure her. Her face relaxes and she nods, giving me a tiny shove.“Go ahead, Amity. Go in peace.” She dismisses me with a hint of her rare smile, ducking back inside.I turn the familiar corner and Zeph is already waiting in front of his house, backpack on. I hesitate. No matter how many times we’ve talked about it, no matter how much I’ve begged him, he claims he’s going to refuse the Oath.He was still talking about it yesterday after graduation. Going on in a whispered hush about a men’s colony in Alaska, with runaway men from the Peaceful Society and other territories who are trying to revive the old ways.A dream or a rumor. I can’t imagine there’s anything that organized in Alaska all these years after the Integration. I wish he wouldn’t talk to me about it; I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.I sympathize with the men who say they are treated as second-class citizens, punished for the violence of their fathers and grandfathers. I want things to change for them, but that change will happen from inside the Society, not from a bunch of feral men in Alaska. He should know why we take baby steps in granting the Privileges to men—we took the same history classes.Zeph nods to me as he takes off down the sidewalk. I try to keep up with his long strides. He taps a light rhythm on his leg as he walks.“Are you ready for Oath Day?” he asks me, polite and formal.“Shut up, Zeph. Are you taking the Oath?” I hiss, the reserve I sometimes wear as the daughter of an Officer dropping away. I loop my arm through his, pleading. “Come on. It’s time to settle down.” My words are a command, a suggestion, and a plea.Zeph’s expression is stubborn and resentful. “You don’t understand what it’s like.”“What does Miro say? Does he know?” I continue to press. Zeph’s boyfriend, Miro, took the Oath last year and he’s doing fine. Works for the WPA.“Miro is doing his own thing,” is all Zeph says.I glance at my friend and his lips are pressed in a thin line. Is there anything I can do to convince him that it’s better to go ahead and take the Oath? It’s not so bad, living as a Citizen. He could try for Clearance, although it’s hard to get for men, since the training is so rigorous.Zeph shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m done talking about it,” he grumbles, sidestepping another argument.I walk quickly, keeping up with him on the last block to the bus stop for our little corner of Northeast Baltimore. I think I’m in shock. He really is planning to refuse the Oath.In school they say it runs in families: rebelliousness, defiance, and aggression. Maybe that’s true because Zeph’s father is either an Oath Refuser or an Oath Breaker.Probably an Oath Breaker. I’ve never asked. The way he shuffles around their house, thick monitor on his ankle, obviously on a cocktail of meds to curb his aggression, makes me think he broke the Oath and committed violence. We don’t talk about his dad.Not all Oath Refusers are rebellious—some people refuse the Oath for religious reasons, but they’re not allowed to hold jobs or have any of the Privileges of being a Citizen. I can’t imagine that life for Zeph.We stand apart from the cluster of people waiting at the bus stop. Electric cars slide by on the street but there’s no sign of the bus yet. I glance at the SafeGuard on my wrist for the time. I’ll be turning it in for a Citizen SafeGuard after I take the Oath, according to my mom.We still have plenty of time to get downtown to the courthouse, and the line to get in will be so long it won’t even matter if we’re punctual. Not that I would ever say that to my mom.“So what? You’re just going to sit at home with your dad?” I can’t stop myself from pushing him on this, but I keep my voice whisper soft, not wanting anyone to hear.Zeph shudders. “No. No way. I have a plan.”Alaska? I mouth silently, rolling my eyes.There’s a pause. His foot taps on the sidewalk. We’re standing in front of a wide bench. The bright sun shines on the wooden slats. If you look carefully you can see the shadow of the words that were engraved into benches all around the city: The Greatest City in America.When my mom was a kid people laughed at the slogan, she told me. It was a time when nearly any adult could own and carry weapons designed to kill other people, just because they felt like it. There were shootings every day in the city. When my mom was growing up in Baltimore, that’s the world she lived in.I was lucky to be born at the same time my mom and grandmother and the other early leaders were forming Mothers Against Violence. The MAV network was able to change many of the gun laws and regulations in the United States.I was only in first grade when the 2nd Amendment was revoked, but I remember the parties. Everyone was celebrating, honking, banging pots and pans on their porches. MAV only got stronger after that.It’s a privilege to live in Baltimore now in the Peaceful Society of Greater Maryland. It’s safe, it’s clean, it’s a perfect city. Trees line the boulevards and are tucked into the tree pits dug into every available corner of the narrow streets.Wide gardens fill the parks that replaced the torn-down blocks, tended by the gentle men of the Works Progress Administration. Mom’s proud to still live in the house she grew up in, even with surveillance being so much stricter in the city than it is out in the towns. It’s worth it for her.I snap back to the bus stop and Oath Day as Zeph speaks.“I made contact with a rebel group,” he murmurs finally. “You can’t tell a soul.”He can’t ask me to promise that. He shouldn’t ask me to promise that, knowing what I’m planning to do at the courthouse today.“They need people like me.” Zeph has always been amazing at programming and tinkering with technology. I’m sure the rebels would be thrilled to have him. “I’m meeting someone there,” he continues in an undertone.“At the courthouse?” Not possible. How would the rebels infiltrate the courthouse, one of the most secure buildings in the city, on Oath Day of all days?He chances a nod, glancing nervously to the Security Station next to the bus stop, a pole with a camera, microphones, and a blue, glowing button to call for help.I see it too and erase all worry and concern from my face.The electric bus pulls up quietly. The squeal of brakes and murmurs of conversation are the only sounds. We hop on and I check the time again as we head down the aisle. It’s only a little after 8:40 and we’re on track to get to the courthouse by 9:00. I’m not sure if that’s enough time to change his mind.Baltimore, Maryland 2034
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
As Zeph and I sit together on the bus, like we have so many times over the years, he stares out the window and I glance around. This route goes downtown and it’s a mix of people heading to jobs and a few kids our age heading to the courthouse, same as we are. The CSOs, Community Security Officers, are in the back.Each Officer is a different height, her face unique, but all with the same strong build, dressed head to toe in identical white uniforms with their hair pulled into long braids down their backs. Each carries a Taser at her waist and stun baton on her back.I know the uniform well. My whole life, I’ve watched my mother put on that same uniform day in and day out. I fully intend to follow her into the Force. There’s no greater legacy, no greater service you can give back, than keeping the peace. “Peace is a Privilege” my mom always reminds me, and I believe her.“Zeph,” I say carefully. There are cameras and microphones scattered over the ceiling of the bus.“You know my grandmother died at Tel Nof.” I add the word please, forming it silently. Whatever he is planning, I don’t want to see him under arrest, a thick monitor on his ankle, all doped up to become a person I don’t recognize anymore. I imagine him slumped on the couch next to his father, watching government videos, and I shudder.“My grandfather also died in the Integration,” he says, his brows drawing together.I didn’t know that. Did his grandfather fight for or against the Peaceful Society?“They sacrificed for us, Zeph,” I murmur. Not only the millions of lives lost. The destruction of weapons factories, the haze when the drug fields burned, the new restrictions and rules. The cost was so steep.Even now, the world population has been shrinking steadily since the invention of the fertility chip. Reproduction was one of the Freedoms we gave up for peace. In our territory it’s a Privilege now, only available to Citizens, and must be earned along with the Privileges of Speech, Movement, Work, Assembly, Privacy, and Participation in Public Affairs.“You make your choices, I make mine,” Zeph says. He likes to argue about free will with me, likes to tell me all about how men should have more control over their own lives.My dad has plenty of control over his life. He works for the WPA, like most men who are Citizens. He took the Oath and as long as he wears his SafeGuard and checks in for Citizen Training once a year, he’s given equal Privileges with women. In theory, he could undergo training to try for Clearance. Then he could hold a better-paying job, a Position of Power, even if only a fraction of men make it through.Clearance training is more rigorous than training for Citizens, and HighClear, the training to become a Security Officer, is the toughest of all. It requires absolute self-control and nonaggression, total nonreactivity of speech, thought, and movement. Few men even volunteer to try it.The buildings outside the bus window grow larger and look scrubbed, the marble shining. Even the concrete appears immaculately clean in this area of the city that houses the central CSO station, the courthouse, and nearby government buildings.At the bus stop I stand, tugging Zeph behind me until we’re out on the street. We watch the heavier traffic in this area for a minute, e-cars backing up at the stoplight in front of the bus stop.I turn to him, fearful. Tension spreads throughout my body, my chest rising and falling rapidly despite my efforts to slow my breathing down.“What will happen?” I ask quietly as we stand together. I clutch his hand in my own sweaty palm, not ready to move toward the courthouse yet. The building behind us is the Central Security Station. Women in white walk briskly on the sidewalk and hurry up the steps to work. Zeph glances around nervously.“I’ll leave,” he says simply, and I know what he’s talking about. It’s his crazy plan to get to Anchorage, to a rebel militia there. “Or go underground.”I glance down at the pale concrete beneath our feet. Kids whisper in school about men’s rights groups meeting underground, in the old subway tunnels. Fighting with each other more than getting organized from the sound of it, their capacity diminished but not entirely extinguished.“You could refuse the Oath also, Amity, you don’t have to stay here,” he says in a mournful voice. I heave a deep sigh. He knows I’ve made up my mind, the same as him.I’ve known I was going to train for HighClear since I was a little girl, dressing up in all my white clothes and borrowing my mother’s weapons belt. Her empty weapons belt, that is. There’s no way she’d let me touch her Taser.He sees the answer in my eyes.“Yeah,” he mutters. Pain flashes over his face. The hug he draws me into is sad, defeated. In other words, it’s goodbye.“You’re my best friend, Amity,” he says into my hair.A tear slips down my cheek. If that’s true, why is he going to refuse the Oath? Or whatever he’s planning?“Go in Peace,” I tell him as goodbye. We’ll walk together down the block to the courthouse, but I don’t want to say goodbye there, in a long line with the other kids ready to take their Oaths. I’ll say it now, because once I’m there I’ll be Amity Bloome, my mother’s daughter, granddaughter of Selene Bloome, martyr of the Integration. As I expected, the line into the courthouse is long, snaking down and around the block. Zeph and I walk along the row of teenagers, laughing and joking, many of them sleepy after a night of post-graduation partying.I greet a couple of friends from the swim team, mostly serious girls like me who are going up for Clearance. You need high grades to be considered, and those don’t come without a lot of work. I never had time to date or socialize much in high school.If the Peaceful Society accepts me into HighClear, I’ll only have tonight with my family to say goodbye and get ready and then I’ll be sent off to the Institute with the other girls.The thought of leaving my little bedroom, my parents, and my brother Ethan, opens a crack in my heart.I imagine the barracks: cold, white and bare. Security Officers don’t indulge. When my mom is home she does all these little things, taking a warm bath, drinking a cup of tea, even cuddling under a thick blanket on the couch, and calls them her luxuries.I think luxury would be having the latest e-car or living in one of the huge houses up on the hill.Zeph walks in front of me, and it’s not his usual carefree stride. Each step is deliberate, and I see his eyes scan up and down the line.We finally get to the end and begin the wait. Luckily the line is moving at a quick shuffle. I assume they’re scanning everyone’s SafeGuard. Maybe there are even metal detectors. I remember them from when I was a kid.During the Integration, metal detectors were literally everywhere. There would even be checkpoints on the sidewalk with CSOs monitoring the foot traffic. They were catching each and every gun for the buyback, and enforcing the new, weak peace.I’m excited to maybe walk through one. I don’t know what weapons anyone would dare bring to the courthouse. There are Officers stationed all over the place. I guess it could detect if you had a knife. I assume Zeph has thought of all that.Our eyes meet but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. All these years, hanging out, watching our siblings, walking to school day in and day out, and I still wonder if Zeph is trying to smuggle a knife into the courthouse.What would be the point anyway—you’d only get in trouble.Inside the wide marble lobby, gray plastic boxes line up like doorways with teenagers waiting to walk through. On the other side, guards with handheld scanners scan each kid’s SafeGuard.Zeph goes first, then I walk through the metal detector. Nothing happens. There’s a girl scanning a couple of kids in the uniform of a rival school. A different guard steps around her and comes over to us to bend over Zeph’s wrist.This guard is a man, dressed like the other guards in white against his deep brown skin, his shoulders broad and wide, a head taller than the women scanning wrists around him.It’s so curious to see a man working as a guard. He must have Clearance to be allowed to scan SafeGuards. Is he support staff? I gaze around the room and everyone is getting their wrists scanned, then moving down the hall in clusters.No one is staring at this guard. No one except me. His hair is tight black curls, clipped close to his head. He’s still bending over Zeph’s wrist, getting the scanner to work. He must be older than me if he’s a courthouse guard but he doesn’t seem very old. More like a bigger, stronger version of the boys I went to school with.The guard’s gaze rises to meet mine and my stomach drops. I know those eyes, dark brown, nearly black. There’s no mistaking his starkly handsome, strong features with dark brows above a smooth, brown jawline.He may not be in fourth grade anymore, but the tall, serious boy I used to see at my mother’s MAV meetings stares directly back, standing behind Zeph, as if he can feel my focus on him. He's the son of my mom’s friend Mikayla, but I never saw them again after the Integration.The guard starts slightly. It’s almost imperceptible except that I’m obsessively staring at him, trying to remember his name. After a brief glance at my school uniform he bends back over Zeph’s wrist, but I think I see a shadow of a smile, and maybe confusion as well.My eyes fall to his hands and narrow. What is taking so long? Is the scanner broken?I catch an unexpected flicker of movement, the guard sending what looks like a SafeGuard up into the sleeve of his white uniform while Zeph flexes his wrist, wrapped in an identical SafeGuard. Did they just switch them? I don’t know how you could do that with a scanner. There’s a tool the doctor uses to fit a new one on me at my checkup.My heart races as Zeph takes a few steps and Mikayla’s son looks up, meeting my eyes, waiting for me to step forward.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
I try not to get distracted as he looms over me, his hand engulfing my wrist as he holds up my SafeGuard to scan. He smells like pine soap and something faintly familiar, chlorine or some other chemical they use in the pool at school.“What are you doing here?” I demand. “And what did you do to his SafeGuard?” I speak through clenched lips and teeth. I see it, a nervous flick of the guard’s eyes to Zeph before his face smooths over.“Nothing to worry about,” he murmurs in a low rumble while he holds the scanner over my wrist, but his brow furrows. His hand is warm and dry, the fingers long with no jewelry or hint of markings on his smooth skin. Our arms contrast: my tan skin dusted with freckles is pale beside his strong, brown forearm.“That’s my friend,” I whisper. “What did you do to him?”He stares at me for a beat. “Calm down, Pepper.”I jerk in response. It is him! The other kids at the MAV meetings used to call me Pepper, because of my freckles.“Your mom is Mikayla Adamson,” I hiss. “What are you doing here? How are you a guard?”I think this kid is eighteen, just like me. He doesn’t answer but finishes the scan, still holding on to my wrist like he’s reluctant to let go. I leave my arm there, sitting in his warm grasp.“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says to me in a low voice.“Liar,” I snap, pulling my wrist away.There’s a huff from Zeph in front of me and Mikayla’s son gives a shake, as if clearing his head, and takes a step back. He doesn’t call to the graduates waiting behind me, just turns slowly to watch us as we leave.Is he watching Zeph? Or is he watching me?We join a group heading down the hall to the wide staircase. I don’t want to look back, but I can’t help taking a peek. The guard is scanning another girl’s SafeGuard now, her wrist limp in his hand, but his eyes are not on her. This time there’s no doubt—his gaze is bound to me. I keep searching my memory, trying to remember more about him. He was a quiet kid who kept to himself, but there was a time I knew his name. It was something short.With my heart refusing to slow down, I turn and will myself to face forward as my thoughts rush in all directions. I glance over at Zeph and his wrist, but his SafeGuard looks identical to mine.Here I am, walking with Zeph. If he does something stupid, will I get in trouble, too? Could this hurt my chances of becoming a Security Officer?My stomach, already on edge at the prospect of taking the Oath and Zeph’s foolish plans, dips again as I imagine myself being blamed, imagine my mother getting in trouble with the Peaceful Society.I try to swallow and my mouth is dry as sand. What am I going to do?At the top of the stairs the flow of people splits apart, as everyone files into wide doors on either side of the hallway. Both sides are courtrooms. I see rows of wooden benches and marble on the walls and ceiling. I pull to the right, ready to enter, but Zeph tries to slip off to the other room.“Oh, no you don’t,” I hiss, following him as closely as I can across the hall to the courtroom on the left.“Amity, can you just go?” he says, motioning with his eyes across the hall.“Zeph, I swear,” I say under my breath, my temper rising. We’ve stopped and there’s a pile-up behind us while we argue.“Keep it moving,” a guard’s high, bored voice calls and the decision is made. We’re entering together and filing with the rest of the line into a row between long wooden benches.In the front of the room there’s a fenced-off area with a group of desks. In one corner is a flag of the Peaceful Society, a stylized dove holding a twig from the olive tree. On the other side is a flag of the United Nations.I sit with Zeph next to me, and he’s way too still for my comfort. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know that he’s always in motion, foot tapping, looking around, leg jiggling. If he has something in his hands he’s either taking it apart or putting it back together.Right now he’s sitting entirely still and it’s scaring me. I let my hand creep over to his wrist, trying to feel his SafeGuard, but he jerks away.“Not now, Amity,” he murmurs. I glance around. Everywhere there are teenagers talking, laughing, some of them rowdy on the other side of the room.“Come on,” I say quietly.“No.” His voice is low, final. “It’s done.”“What do you mean it’s done? And who was that, I…” I hesitate, not sure whether to admit I recognized the guard.“Stop it.” Zeph’s voice is tight.I turn away. My heart, beating against my chest, has not slowed down. I wonder if I’m having a panic attack.A bunch of adults file through a door in the front. The Guardian for Baltimore and her assistant set up at the desk in the middle. A couple of CSOs sit off to the right, and a group of guards from the lobby file in and cluster in the back. He’s there, the guard who scanned me.It’s impossible not to notice him. The little kid who would wander off into the woods behind the community center where our MAV group met is very grown up and very handsome. He could be modeling for advertisements or starring in government videos, even in his simple white shirt and uniform pants.His face is carefully blank and he’s staring at the wall, not at us, but I think he knows we’re here, and he’s keeping tabs on us. There’s something in his posture, how he shifts a bit when my gaze returns to him. I’m not sure how he’s doing it, but he’s watching us.The Guardian calls the room to order.“This is the day you join the movement to eradicate violence and live in a peaceful, safe, and unified Society.”I’m listening to her, but I’m watching Mikayla’s son. There’s not a flicker of reaction on his face as she speaks. She talks about taking the Oath, what will happen if we apply for Clearance or HighClear, and what will happen if we refuse the Oath.“A commitment to the Common Oath grants you the Privileges of Citizenship in the Peaceful Society,” she says. Then she quotes the Universal Accord we all learned in school.“Rights shall not be guaranteed, but earned as Privileges through Certification and a Commitment to the Common Oath.”We’ve all been through Citizen training in school, training for years in nonviolent speech and action, de-escalation, emotional regulation, and conflict resolution. All that’s left for us to become full Citizens is to take the Oath.The process starts and people are called up one by one. The assistant confers quietly with each new person who enters the little gate and approaches her desk. Then they move to stand before the Guardian, raising their right hand to take the Oath.Some get directed to the desk on the right, and the Officers take the information of the girls I assume are going up for Clearance. Groups of young women and men file back out the doors we came in, required to make one more stop to get their new SafeGuard on the way out.Then one boy has a longer conversation with the assistant. He shakes his head, and they talk more. Sweat slides down the side of his forehead. There’s a slight tremor in his hands.The woman turns and nods to the guards behind her. One of them steps forward and walks with the boy to a door on the left, and they leave without taking the Oath.Zeph tightens next to me and my eyes flick not to him but back to the guard, the boy I knew from before, standing in uniform. He’s turned toward us now where we’re sitting. His eyes return my gaze coolly, flicking between Zeph and me. I’m sure worry is written all over my face but he doesn’t respond, only glances away, his face blank.After another span of Oath Takers, another boy refuses the Oath and leaves to the left with a guard.They get to our school, working their way through the kids in my class until the assistant calls Zeph’s name. I squeeze his hand once, then he pulls it away, walking with slow carefulness to the front of the room. Zeph dips his head down, having the longer conversation that I’ve dreaded.Like the others, the assistant calls for a guard over her shoulder. My ears ring as the guard I recognize steps forward. He makes eye contact with me, this time with warning in his eyes. He walks casually to Zeph’s side and they turn together, heading to the left.A cry, a warning, forms in my throat but I swallow it down. I’m being called up right now, right after Zeph, to take my Oath.I have to wrench my gaze away from the door swinging shut at the side of the courtroom as I push through the gate.There’s an easy smile on the assistant’s face, and the Security Officers nod to me in recognition of Calista Bloome’s daughter. I quickly confirm I’m going to take the Oath and want to be considered for HighClear training.With my right hand raised next to my shoulder, I read aloud the words of the Oath. I am a citizen of the Peaceful SocietyI reject violence in all formsMy freedom is a PrivilegeMy legacy is peace My voice shakes on the last line as the words sink into me. Everything I fear flashes before my eyes: Zeph committing violence, getting put on probation, drugged and monitored. Or worse, Zeph and the guard committing an attack, people getting hurt or even killed.The only person here who knows what just happened is me.I stand, frozen, while the Guardian cocks her head, waiting patiently.My legacy is peace, I just swore in the Oath. But right now my legacy is not peace. It’s deception, keeping this all a secret when people’s safety and lives could be put at risk by my silence. My grandmother didn’t die for me to cover up for a bunch of rebels, no matter how old our friendship.“Amity?” she asks curiously, while I stand there, stuck.“Zeph,” I say, my voice cracking, low. “And the guard. Rebels.”Her attention sharpens and she leans forward slightly.“He switched,” I stumble over the words, “he switched his SafeGuard.”Now she motions to the seated Officers. They instantly register her concern and stand, their chairs scraping the floor in unison.The CSOs listen intently as she speaks to them in a low voice. I catch a few words before they move smoothly toward the door on the left, speaking into their SafeGuards, pulling batons off their backs.There’s no shouting, no noise, only soft commands as the white-clad Officers check the corridor, then move out into the hall.I’m still standing in front of the Guardian, shocked and worried, my heart refusing to slow down. Then she stands and addresses the room.“There will be a ten-minute break and then we will resume.”It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. No one responds to the announcement.“Amity Bloome,” she says, turning. “You’d better come with me.”
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