“Girls, formation!” Madame Jeanne’s voice booms throughout the courtyard. The blue and white of our uniforms blur together as we quickly prance around, forming a straight line. 

“Feet together, hands by your sides, backs straight!” Madame Jeanne walks down the line. “Chin up, Adaline!” 

Her shrill voice makes me wince. I gently lift my chin. 

“As you all know,” she continues, “today is a very important day. Our school has been selected for The Draft, a very honorable thing indeed. I expect every one of you to be on your best behavior. Is that clear?”

“YES, MADAME!” we yell. 

“Good. Our guests shall be arriving at any minute!”

Just then, the gates creak open, revealing a shiny black car with a tripod of white swirls painted on the sides. A man and a woman get out of the carriage. 

“Welcome,” Madame Jeanne says, “to Madame Dorotheé Vannessa Marie Jeanne’s Prestigious Boarding School for Young Ladies. We are thrilled that you have selected us, and we are at your service, Dr. Martin.”

“Thank you for that . . . formal introduction,” the woman says. “We are pleased to be here. Now,” she turns towards us, “if you girls could please follow me, we can begin.”

We follow Dr. Martin and her assistant into the building and down a long hall. She stops outside a wooden door and says, “You girls shall wait out here until I call you in. The procedure won’t take long. My assistant, Dr. Pierre, will then escort you back to Madame Jeanne.”

“YES, MA’AM!” we yell. 

Dr. Martin smiles saying, “What obedient young ladies you are.” She pulls a clipboard in front of her. “First up,  . . . Badeaux!”

Beatrice Badeaux walks through the door with Dr. Martin. I sit down with my friend Juliet.

“So,” she inquires, “what do you think they’re doing in there? Pulling out her brain?” 

I roll my eyes and say, “I don’t think so. Madame Jeanne told us that there would be no surgeries.”

“Well, I doubt that even Madame Jeanne knows what’s going to happen.”

Juliet is right. There have been rumors. Girls who went mad with the pressure. With the change. The evolution of their mind. But, of course, they’re all hogwash. 

“Do you thi-?” I start. The door swings open and all heads turn. Beatrice glides out, not saying a word. 

“Beatrice, please follow Dr. Pierre.” Dr. Martin says, appearing behind her.

Beatrice snaps back to reality, blinking a few times. Then she smiles and joins Dr. Pierre. 

We watch her walk away until we can no longer see her. 

“Now,” Dr. Martin continues, “Galliott?”

Dr. Martin goes through everyone on her list, finally reaching my name.

“Zabelle?” she asks.

I fidget with my fingers. Our school has been preparing us for this moment ever since we were chosen. Extra courses, textbooks, physical training. But no one prepared us for the wave of panic or the sick feeling of the unknown. 

I stand and follow her into the room. There is a large leather chair with a strange machine hanging over it. And, to my surprise, a television. That’s it. 

Dr. Martin gestures to the chair, and I sit. She pulls the machine on my head, which hurts in its metal grippers. Dr. Martin says nothing as she turns on the television. 

“Don’t worry, dear. This won’t hurt a bit.” 

Suddenly, I feel as though my brain were being pulled. An electric shock flows through me, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I look at the screen and see . . . myself. No, a butterfly. A flag. Someone who loves me. Someone who needs me. The awful white spirals. I cannot look away, I cannot close my eyes.

“Now, tell me what you see,” commands Dr. Martin. “A frog or a leaf? A spice jar or a teapot? Your mother or your brother? A question or an answer? The missing piece of a puzzle or the missing piece in a puzzle?” 

The questions fly into me, shocking and hurting. I see everything. I feel everything. Everything I know is suddenly gone, useless, a speck of sand on the ocean shore. Though it hurts, I have never felt more alive. 

I gasp and break free from the invisible binds. 

Dr. Martin turns off the television. 

“Hello, Adaline Zabelle,” she says. “I have a question for you, hmm?” She crouches down so that her eyes meet mine. 

“What do you live for?” she asks.

I look back into her eager charcoal black eyes. 

“To serve.” 

The End