IQ 138 by Ainsley Dillon (room on the broom read aloud txt) 📖

Chapter 3- Broadcasting Day

Chapter 3: Broadcasting Day

I continue down the hallway until I reached the bathroom. I ran into one of the showers and cried. I cried and cried. I’ve never let myself let out my feelings like this, but I needed to. Why does everyone think it’s my fault I got pared with Zachary, if I could change it I would!

 

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After I got with my unnecessary breakdown, I went to my bed and layed down, trying to not pay attention to Allison, who was fast asleep in the room diagonal from me. Cally walks into the room a couple of hours later, and passes out. I couldn’t go to sleep, so I decided to pass the time by staring at the ceiling. It was decorated with blue polka-dots, (Cally’s choice; not mine.) When my eyes started to get fuzzy, I could hear voices cheering from down the hall.

Zachary’s friend-(I think his name is Keith) passes our door, and stands in the doorway, his face shining with sweat.

 

“Maiah, you want to go to the roof?” says Keith. “Zach built a parachute with nurse uniforms, and we’re going to jump off the roof. Zachary said you might want to come watch.”

 

I’m sorry I did this to Keith, he really didn’t do anything, but I spit back, “Zach doesn’t need my approval, he can kill himself without me just fine. Oh, and tell him I hate, Hate, being partners with him. He always thinks I’m lucky to be partners with him, but it’s quite the opposite. Make sure to pass the message on.” I gave Keith a glare of hatred to give to Zachary, and slammed the door in his face.

 

I went back to my bed and pressed my face deeply into my pillow. I must have slept a long time because when I got up, Cally was gone. Though, this time I wasn’t late for the test, it was only 5:45 a.m., and breakfast is at 6:15, so I might not be late today. I peel off my pajamas and pull on a comfy sweatshirt and yoga pants. I shrug on my sandals and sidestep out the door.

 

I walked down the hallway and into the cafeteria, where 40-60 eyes are staring back at me. They are all dressed up in their best outfits, all except for me and Allison. Apparently both of us were still in an emotional hangover. I went over to the very back table, and sat next to Allison. Cally and Zachary come and sit on either side of Allison and me.

 

I crouch down on the table, and put my arms around my head, to block out all of the surrounding noise. Zachary leans close and whispers, “That’s great attire, for broadcasting day.” I can hear him trying to silently laugh behind me, and I can also smell the overdoing gel he had put in his hair this morning. It almost made me cough. Personally, I didn’t care I would be reviewed in front of the whole world looking like a homeless person; I’d be the only comfortable one on camera. I’m also surprised he knew the word attire. That’s a big word for someone with a brain the size of a ping pong ball.

 

I shift my head over to the other side of the table so I don’t have to feel his presence, it is most annoying on a morning like this. Cally gives me a sympathetic look and the bell rings for breakfast to start.

 

Cally and Zachary leave Allison and I at the table alone. A couple minutes later, Cally returns with a plate full of food, but I refuse.

 

“You have to eat something,” she says. “I swear you look like a stick. Come on. Here comes the choo choo train!” I laugh wearily and take a bite of an overripe banana, tasting particularly sour in my mouth.

 

Before I could finish, the lady in the suit comes into the room, unannounced this time.

 

“Today, as you all know, is broadcasting day. You will all be interviewed in front of the entire world. Afterward, you will start the first portion of the math assessment right after you get back.”

Yesss… Finally! I get to take math. I mean, obviously, it’s the best part of the assessment, and we do so much that it takes up two portions of the test.

 

“Finish eating breakfast, and,” she casts a side look at me, “Make yourselves look presentable.” and she dramatically walks out the door.

 

Cally looks toward the woman in wonder and curiosity.

 

“I wonder what her name is,” she says, her eyes still staring towards the door in which the crazy lady had left through.

 

“There’s probably a reason why she’s not telling us.” and there most likely is. Now Cally has triggered my curiosity, a fate not unlike opening Pandora’s Box. So, as a group we decide to go out the door to see if we can ask the crazy lady for her name. But, when we get to the door, she’s gone. In her place sits a limousine that probably cost more than my house.

 

“Get in.” says a rough voice, and makes a gesture and the door nearest to us flies open. Thinking that the man who said this would be able to make us if we didn’t comply, we got in the vehicle, the door slamming behind us. The interior was nice, and there was a mini bar, which I hadn’t noticed until Zachary tried to touch it and it zapped him with a shock of electricity, so he sat back down in his chair. After about 25 new passengers, we started off, driving down the streets of New York City.

 

It was really a beautiful place, even though half of it was plastic replicating what was once natural. Once, a couple years ago, Cally and I decided to go to the restricted section of the public library. We forged my mom’s signature to get in, and we felt as though we committed a sin. But while I was inside, a certain book caught my eye. It was, crammed in between Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, and the Hobbit by Tolkien. Thus started my love for Shakespeare.

 

But the book I had seen was the Lorax. Obviously made for children, it was barely an inch thick, covered with trees that at the time I thought looked almost exactly like my own hair. Different colors swam across the page, although the words told a different story, quite unlike the misleading pictures that made you think of a happy ending. It told of a world that had forgotten the importance of nature, or just having something real. I fear now that we have repeated our own history.

 

Outside the tinted windows of the limousine, I saw birch trees, although most people would mistaken them as oak, because the government had made them that way. The inside of the trees during winter, instead of being shown by the outside bark naturaling fading away, a landscaper came and flipped a switch at the base of the roots, making the tree appear white.

 

When we got to the broadcasting area, (31st Street News)they didn’t let us out of the car first. I even speculate that we were the last out of the limousine. The men in the black suits escorted us inside the news building, and I was almost blinded by the lights. They revealed a stage, not unlike one for a concert, or political debate, which my situation, was one of the same. They must of thought we were kindergarteners, because each of our names was etched in capital letters, so we would know where to sit. I was placed in between Zachary and his friend Keith, who both seemed to think that leaning too close to me so they could get in whispering distance was the right idea.

 

“Will you both shut up!!!” I said, not to nicely. “Can you not see we are currently in the most secluded area, making a presentation that is going to be seen by the whole world?!” Zachary and Keith started giggling like little girls.

 

“Well,” Zachary grinned at Keith. “We must make it interesting, shouldn’t we?”

 

I don’t think anyone, not even the crazy un-named lady, was prepared for what happened next.

Chapter 4- Zachary and Keith Get Us Killed... Almost

Chapter 4: Zachary and Keith Get Us All     Killed… Almost

 

In the minutes following, Zachary and Keith don’t say  a word, but I can tell they’re scheming. All I can do now is sit and nervously toss around in my chair. But then the crazy lady greets us all on the stage, and begins to tell us the order of what is going to happen.

 

“Of course,” she begins, “Everything you say will be live, and just remember, this is an important part of the test that determines where you will be in our society, whether you will be the next leader of the nation, or the garbage man that lives down the street.” A few laugh at that comment, but I don’t suppose it’s meaning to be of humor.

 

I will call your names, in alphabetical order until I complete the whole list. Then you will ride back to the testing facility where you will begin the first math portion. Is everything clear?” the crazy lady concludes.

 

“We all mutter a simple, “Yes, Ma’am.” and she nods, and walks off the stage.

 

“Gefferson, Zachary.” A clear voice calls from the back. Zachary stands up and walks though the 2 inch thick steel door, which most believe is for our protection, but I think it’s to keep some of us from running.

 

“Keaner, Maiah, on deck.” A different voice calls, as if we’re in some second grade talent show.

 

I keep my head down as I walk towards the enclosed room, but a large man stops me and directs me to a blue “x” taped to the floor. Ten minutes later, Zachary comes out, his face glimmering with sweat. I reach out to try and comfort him, but the large man in the suit stops me again, and, like  gentleman, opens the door in front of me, and shoves me in. The crazy lady sits on the desk a large stack of papers clasped in her hands.

 

“Hello, Maiah,” she begins, as if we’re on a first name basis. “Today I will be interviewing,” (More like interrogating) “You on your past, present, and future.” She giggles, and I can almost imagine it as an evil cackle. Gosh, this woman is crazy.

 

“First, please describe your childhood to us, Ms. Keaner.” she asks, and I try to