My mother was roughly shaking my shoulders. I fixed my bleary eyes on her face, which was flushed with fear and exertion from running up the stairs. “Is everything okay?”

"Glace!" she admonished, "What are you doing? The tower bell will toll in a few minutes!" Anxiously, I twisted around to check the window opposite my bed. The sky was still dark.

"I’m sorry," I said, my voice still uneven with sleep. “I can still make it."

My mother’s eyes narrowed, further hollowing her cheekbones. She cut a bleak figure in the dark room. “What were you doing last night, Glace?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. “Please, I beg of you, don’t do anything that could put our family in danger. We-”

I gritted my teeth. “Mom! If we talk any longer, I’ll be late for sure.” With a sigh, she turned away into the shadows.

I slid off of the mattress as soon as the door closed. The floorboards were damp and cold, and I shivered. I crossed the room in a few steps and threw open the chest under my window, throwing out clothes until I spotted my school uniform in the sea of grey and brown.

I ran back to the sink and splashed my face. If I was late there would be consequences. I cared not for myself, but for my mother. The years had made her frail, and she had been born with a weak heart. I pulled my blonde hair up into a bun, smoothing the escaping hairs back as best I could. The house shuddered with each step as I ran down the stairs, still buttoning up my uniform.

My eyes adjusted to the light of the rising sun as I stepped out into the street. The cool, wet air seemed to sink down from the heavy clouds and into my clothes. Although our street was quiet, I could hear the shuddering of wagon wheels on cobblestones in the distance. I glanced around once, pulled up the corner of my grey frock, and took off into a jog.

Beads of sweat graced my forehead as the sun inched higher in the sky. A trickle of water ran across the stones. The ground was uneven beneath my feet, and the limited traction of the school loafers threatened to send me flying. I followed the line of wooden houses uphill, past the small wall that blocked my street from the rest of the neighborhood. As the shadows lifted, the city was illuminated from behind. The massive clocktower of the Fortress, our capitol building, dominated the landscape. Soon, the bell would toll, and the day would officially begin.

I was forced to slow down as I turned onto a busy street. Merchants were at their tents with their wares laid out, calling out prices to the people finishing their morning shopping before work. The small crowd filled the narrow street. I tried to weave between the people with little success. Sweat began to bead at my forehead.

Clip, clop. The sound of hooves on stone. I smiled as the fruit cart, drawn by an old brown mule, drew even with me. I took a few bounding steps and mounted the mule behind the rider.

“You are cutting it very fine today, young lady,” he scolded. “What would you do if I hadn’t passed by? You are lucky that the school is on my route.”

I gripped the man’s arm in thanks. I knew that my school was not truly part of his route, and that he was going out of his way for me. “I am indebted to you, Reno.”

We jostled through the crowd, earning a rude word from several of the market patrons. Merchants weren’t well liked in Historical Amberasta—for families like mine, their prices were almost too high to afford. It was a painful necessity, since the government’s tax made it difficult for the merchants themselves to survive.

Reno turned to me as we passed through an alley. “How did things go last night?” he whispered.

“How did you know the group met last night?” I asked. “You stopped joining us months ago.”

“I didn’t know. But it was obvious from the bags under your eyes.”

“You know we shouldn’t discuss such things. But if you must know, the meeting went well enough.”

“Be careful,” came the reminder. I responded with a nod, and we rode in silence from then on.

Reno pulled up to the school building, a mass of grey cement. King Keon’s emblem, a deep red dove, adorned the side. I dismounted. “Thank you, Reno,” I said, patting the mule’s side. He smiled at me, and his chipped tooth glinted in the morning sun.

I turned and ran into the school, pushing open the heavy wooden doors. The main hall was empty, stark white except for the propaganda on the walls. My shoes squeaked on the tile floor as I turned and threw open the door to my first classroom.

My classmates stared at me with wide eyes. I smoothed down my frock and settled into my desk, wiping the last drops of sweat from my brows.

R-R-RING! The bell tolled, filling the classroom and shaking the board. R-R-RING. R-R-RING.

I sighed. The day had officially begun. Slowly, the hubbub of chatter filled the room.

“Hey!” Knowing what was coming, I turned to face the desk next to mine. My best friend, Owen, leaned over angrily. "What are you doing, Glace?” he demanded. “Another tardy and they will report you!"

"You all worry too much," I said, despite knowing that he was right. I had been far too reckless.

“If you even cared abo-” Owen stopped suddenly, and the room went silent. The teacher had entered. She wore a loose and faded tan pantsuit, her head wrapped in a thin scarf. There was a subtle shuffling as we straightened up our things. In Amberasta, the position of teacher was highly respected. To prevent criminal activities, teachers often acted as spies. After all, kids were the first to betray a family’s secrets. If a teacher spotted suspicious behavior, whole families could be taken to interrogation.

The teacher observed us quietly with her mouth set in a thin line. She began to walk up and down the isles, looking for anything out of the ordinary. After a moment, she stopped at a desk near the board.

"Margaret, stand," she ordered. The girl rose on shaky legs. I scanned her quickly, trying to identify what the teacher had found amiss. Her long, black hair was pulled back nicely, and her frock was clean.

"Your dress is indecent," the teacher spoke, "at least two sizes too small. You will have it fixed for tomorrow." The girl nodded nervously. Because the teacher had pointed it out, I could see that her dress was pulled tight over her bosom and thighs. I suspected that Margaret hadn’t meant to stand out or show off. Our uniforms were expensive and most families couldn’t afford a new one every few years. Luckily, our teacher was more sympathetic than most. She had let Maragret off easily, without an official warning.

I grimaced. My frock must be stained from Reno’s cart, not to mention the smell of sweat and fruit. I shifted so that I was partially hidden behind my desk. Luckily, the teacher seemed not to notice.

When she was done with her rounds, we began our first lesson in mathematics. The class passed slowly. Although my mind was unfocused, I managed to take some notes. I had to maintain high enough grades to avoid negative attention.

When the class finally ended, we gathered our bags and prepared to leave. I rushed to join Owen, but stopped suddenly when I heard my name. The teacher was beckoning me toward her desk. “Come here, Glace,” she ordered. My stomach flipped.

Owen gave me a searching look. “Don’t worry,” I whispered, “I’ll catch up to you.” I approached the teacher’s desk slowly as the last students trickled out of the classroom.

“Sit down, Glace,” she said softly. “I want to talk to you. I know you have been having a tough time. Your mother has told me enough.” I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. My mother and the teacher had been close friends since childhood, although it was unusual that she would mention the friendship at school.

“Do you think I don’t notice your clothes? They’re in despicable condition. Not to mention your near tardiness.” She scowled, and her soft features sank into shadow. “I was watching from the office. You are lucky no one else saw you running like that. Frankly, I am disappointed. You’ve already had two formal warnings. It would only take one more to raise suspicion.”

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, my voice losing strength with each syllable.

"Your parents are such honest people. There’s no blemish on their records. You’ll shame them at this rate. And what about your future? Your mom has told me about your…” the teacher paused, trying to find the right words. Then her voice sank to a whisper. “She’s told me about your rebellious spirit.”

I sank down in my seat. “No Ma’am. Thank you for your help. I will do better.”

“Good,” she responded, waving me away. I grabbed my bag, my cheeks blushing with the fear of being exposed. If the teacher knew how rebellious I really was, she would report me without a second thought.

It was true. I was putting us all in danger.