Chapter 11 - Eleanor

Don't call attention to yourself.

" Y our name is greyed out. What's that even mean?"

All the Young Ladies stood in front of the switchboard, staring at the ranks. My name was at the very top, but instead of its usual red font, my name had no color at all, as if the life had been sucked from it, much like myself.

"It means I can't go on missions," I said flatly. "It means, my Daddy was declared dead."

The girls gasped. I whipped around and shoved through the crowd. They let me through while trying to shout condolences at me. It only made me angry. I didn't need their pity. It was fake sympathy, anyway. I bet once they couldn't see me anymore they'd start laughing and rejoicing that they finally had a chance to rank up.

I ran back to my room, threw myself onto the bed, and screamed into a pillow until I had no voice. This was a nightmare. A horrible, unreal nightmare-- only it was real. He'd been shot dead, right in the chest, while in the middle of a creepie fight.

And because we'd all been tossed onto the bus, no one was there to save him.

Well, everyone but Milton. Milton was MIA.

Over the next week I was brought gifts. Chocolates, board games, and stuffed animals. All stuff from various Young Ladies or DITs that they purchased from the store we had on our floor. All boring things that I had tons of already. They were empty gifts, and only served to make me feel worse about what happened. After a few days, I began to leave the gifts in random places throughout our space. I left a chess set in the cafeteria, a teddy bear in the bathroom, and a box of hard candies at my desk during English.

People took notice and stopped leaving gifts at my door.

The only gift I wanted to have anything to do with was Milton's last gift to me. Every day after meals and school, instead of socializing with the other Young Ladies, I returned to my room, where I would sit at my desk and draw.

I sketched realistic images of people, places, and animals I'd seen either in real life below, above, or on the television. I found myself drawing Milton the most. Which, I worried would get me in trouble, but I no longer cared. If they wanted to kick me out of the Young Lady program, so be it. Maybe by stroke of luck I'd be returned to Gen Pop, Milton would be found, and we could get married.

But each day, that dream grew more and more unrealistic. I wasn't removed from my position as rank one, despite being greyed out, and Milton was yet to be found, despite the daily searches.

All missions had been halted while all the Daddies and DITs were made to search for him. It was strange at first, seeing all of us Young Ladies wandering around alone. Usually, the only places we went without our Daddies were classes, bathrooms, and bedrooms. But even our bedrooms were attached to each others. Daddies had to walk through our rooms to get to theirs.

It felt good to see the other Young Ladies look confused about not having a Daddy beside them, but it always killed me to remember that their situation was only temporary. Their Daddy's were still very much alive. They still had value to the program. I did not.

What good was a Young Lady without her Daddy?

So, I drew. I stayed in my room as much as I could, drawing. Every time I wasn't in my room, I couldn't help but be nasty and cruel to the others around me. I was bitter, hurt, and grieving. Staying to myself was better for everyone involved.

I drew until I covered the front side of every page, and then I flipped the notebook over and drew on the backsides. And once that was full I went and purchased two more notebooks. I drew everything my brain could come up with from the time I got into my room until my eyes couldn't stay open and my hand began to cramp. It was the only thing that silenced the war going on in my heart.

I didn't want to cry anymore.

I made the decision two weeks in, that if I was tossed out of the program I would go straight to that tattoo parlor I'd seen when I was 13 and seek an apprenticeship. Sure, drawing with pencils was fine and dandy, but I never stopped admiring that machine he'd had. I wanted to be part of that experience for someone. That humming sound of the machine as he pushed the pedal never left me. And if I could no longer be a Young Lady, then I wanted to be a tattooist.

I prepared for that inevitable day, and after a month, the day I dreaded finally came. I walked into the cafeteria and stopped short. Across the wall, lined up holding coffees, were Daddies. I sat down quickly.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

Nancy was the only one who would meet my demanding gaze.

"They've called off the search for Milton."

What ?

The tray fell from my hands and hit the floor with an explosion. Food went flying and the sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the now silent room. I spun around, looking at everyone at the tables.

"Where is he? Where are all the other DITs?"

No one answered.

No. They couldn't just abandon him like that. They wouldn't. Milton was too important. He'd said so himself. A hand fell on my shoulder and I looked up to see Dorothy.

"Eleanor, why don't you go rest, and I'll bring you up some light breakfast later. We will be making an announcement soon."

"I don't want to go." I clenched my fists. "Did you find Milton?"

"Eleanor," she warned. "If you can't behave, we'll have no choice but to--"

"To what?" I spat. I shoved her hand away and looked around the room. "Grey my name out? Not give me any missions to do? Keep me in waiting for another month? I don't want to do this anymore. If I'm not useful to the program anymore, reject me and send me back down to the general population. I don't want to be somewhere I'm useless." Tears stung my eyes as I turned and stormed out of the cafeteria. No one followed me, which only confirmed my thoughts. I was unimportant now. I spent the last 10 years training for nothing.

Would they even care if I just... left?