Dara – "knowledge is the new rich, arm yourselves with it." – Toni Payne.
I wake with a start. I must've fallen asleep again, my head resting on the pile of open books. I yawn as I quickly tidy up. I straighten my crooked glasses and change.
I try flattening my black, wild hair but as per usual, it springs back up again. I run into the kitchen, grabbing my toast from a toaster I modified to pop the toast just as I walk past it. I eat as I run into the subway. I sit with my books on my knees, reading about algebra, my favourite type of math. Like most people in Rookland, I have a busy schedule, only consisting of studying, more studying and even more studying. But I don't mind it, not really. If I am to become a scientist one day, then this is necessary, I can't slack off.
I arrive in class and my professor begins the register. As per usual, my name, Dara, receives a snicker throughout the class. I hate my name. It sounds so… feminine. If someone who didn't know me heard my name, they'd never guess I was a boy. My parents gave it to me for the meaning; nugget of wisdom. It's a bit weird to be honest, of all names they chose 'nugget of wisdom,'.
After a few hours of maths, I go into the science lab. My partner and I work in silence as we work out the formulas and codes for different genes. Unlike most Rooklanders, I find myself easily distracted, or 'head in the clouds' as my mom says. I can't help thinking about the meetup next week. I'm actually pretty excited. I get to learn so much about Rosaland, it's hosted there this year, and meet loads of new people. The meet up is only for 17-21 year olds, so we can learn about each of the five universes. My partner gives me a sharp nudge and I jerk back to reality.
The next class is a free period, but as most people do, I spend the hour revising over the handbook. The handbook is a book of rules and regulations each Rooklander has to learn by the age of eighteen to be able to get a job. We get to choose our own jobs, but my father wants me to be a neuroscientist like him, so that is what I'll be.
On the train home, as I'm reading about new advancements in space technology, a thought occurs to me; what if I get to Rosaland to find they're not all duffers, but are in fact, smarter than me?
No, that's stupid. They can't be that smart. Right? I mean, all they do is train and fight. If my father even had an inkling they could be as smart as me, I'd be done for. I get back to studying, the train bumping along, making my books move.
I run upstairs to my bedroom which is filled with posters of scientists and math equations. I grab my physics study book and look around to make sure no one was watching. I open it slightly and take out the letters from my bunkmates, who I'll meet next week. There's two girls and two non-binary people. The other two I have no idea about, the one from the junkyard, well it's not really called that, but everyone does, didn't bother sending anything. I'm nervous about that one. Anyone bad or anyone that doesn't fit with their universe gets sent there. No one wants to be sent there.
I tuck the letters under my mattress quickly as the door opens,
"Solve the equations, then come down for marking. If you get them right, you can eat." Says my father in a bored monotone, tossing a page full of complicated questions. He turns and closes the door; I sigh and get to work.
It only takes an hour before I'm done with the equations. I take a deep breath before going downstairs, my parents have their noses in books, their forehead lined with concentration.
I clear my throat; both their heads snap up to look at me. My father's expression doesn't change, only my mother gives me a faint smile.
He snatches the paper from my hand, he scans over the answers and looks up.
"Sit." He says, good I can eat. Even better, for once in a fairly long time I've actually gotten them all right.
I gobble down my food, made up of one thing from each section of the eat well plate in order to 'get maximum brain function' and run back upstairs. I fall asleep as soon as I open my math book.