I spend the rest of the day on the couch, an icepack on each leg. Lexi is laying on the floor, spread eagle, eyes closed half-asleep.

"You can sit up here," I mumble, rearranging the ice packs.

"The floor makes me feel dead," she replies, not bothering to open her eyes.

I watch her breathe, the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her face is still dirty from the rain, hair still half wet. The heavy rain drops beat on the roof of the house, our own personal drum beat.

"Did it have to rain?" she asks, turning to finally look at me. I shrug, tossing her an ice pack. She lays it over her forehead, sighing in relief. "I mean, it slowed me down."

"Lexi, you ran it faster than I did," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Well, I had to make up for that test I bombed."

"Well, it's over now," I snap, laying back in the pillows. She exhales loudly, and the room falls silent again.

The scores won't come out until Wednesday, meaning we have to wait to know. I knew the test was going to be bad, but I never anticipated the wait. Replaying the test questions in my head, I start to second guess myself.

"Lexi?"

She makes a little sound, not opening her eyes.

"What year did World War Two start?"

That gets her attention. She snaps her head towards me, the ice pack falling off.

"Um," she mumbles, glancing at the ceiling, "1914?"

"I thought that was World War One..."

My voice trails off.

"Ohmygod," Lexi groans, "You're freakin' right. World War Two was in 1939. I failed."

I sigh in frustration as she begins to hyperventilate, covering her face with both hands.

"Calm down," I say, getting up and kneeling in the floor next to her. She looks through her fingers at me, eyes wide. I can see the different shades of brown in her irises, the rise and fall of the freckles on her cheeks.

"Shut up, Q," she moans, closing her eyes again. I sit back on my feet.

"You can't worry about it," I whisper, poking her leg, "It's over. You can't redo it."

Her breathing slows, and she finally nods.

"I'm going to, um, go home," she stammers, sitting up suddenly. I scoot back so she won't hit me.

"Why?"

"To get naked and think about all my mistakes in life," she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me. I scrunch my nose up at her, recoiling.

"Too much."

She chuckles, pushing herself up off the floor.

"See you Wednesday, Q," she says, waving from the doorframe.

Once she's gone, though, the silence in the house is unnerving. The rain still beats down on the roof; the wind shakes our window panes. I can hear the clock in the kitchen ticking, see the door rattle. Outside, the waves are shattering onto the sand; the sound that resembles crunching glass filling the air.

I sit back up on the couch, pulling my tablet off the side table. I scroll through until I find something to read, deciding on a medical journal about the effects of smoke inhalation on the human body. It eventually puts me to sleep, sixty two pages in.

School is dismissed Tuesday for the 11th years, and so I spend the day helping clean house and distracting myself from the fact that scores loom around the corner like a out of control supply truck. I finish the medical journal sometime Tuesday evening, telling my parents about it the next morning at the table.

"Did you know that smoke inhalation actually affects your body on a cellular level?" I ask, mouth full of oatmeal, "The chemicals in smoke interfere with your cell's oxygen use."

Dad ignores me, like always, reading something on his tablet. Mom, on the other hand, has both elbows on the table, eyes wide as she takes it all in.

"Really?" she asks, swallowing, "I just thought it choked you."

"Yeah, me too. That's not the case, though." The more I talk, the more excited I get. "It stops the oxygen from accessing the cells, and without oxygen, they die. Mostly it's carbon monoxide that does the damage."

"Well, I learn something new everyday!" she exclaims, sitting back in her chair. Her cheeks are swollen this morning, red from walking back and forth making breakfast. I can see her stomach dropping regularly, watch the way she struggles to stand in one place for too long. She uses the bathroom constantly and eats more than an elephant. Yet, her face always has a smile stretched across it.

A knock on the door makes us both jump, and Dad looks up from his reading.

"Who would that be?" he asks in a gruff voice, glancing at the clock.

It's 6:25.

"Alexis, I bet," Mom says, scooting herself around.

"I'll get it," I mutter, hurrying to stand before she does, "You rest."

I jog into the living room, slipping on the rug by the door. Sure enough, it's Lexi holding her tablet. Her face is whiter than the foam from the water below; her eyelashes are damp, lining eyes that are pink and bloodshot.

"What's up?" I ask, letting her in. She sniffles loudly, clearing her throat.

"The, um, results will be here in a few minutes."

I notice her mother standing behind her, smiling nervously. Lexi continues.

"We thought we should look together."

Riley is nowhere to be found, which means school is still in session for everyone else. I can only imagine the fight that ensued once they tried to force her to go on Results Day.

"Quinn, bring them in here," Mom yells, and I smile at them both, ushering them forward. Lexi's mom thanks me, following her into the kitchen. Unlike Lexi, she's a quiet woman, always dressing darkly, with bags under her eyes. Even before her husband died, she was this way.

"Hi, Cathy," she says in a small voice as we come into the kitchen. I pull chairs out for both Lexi and her mom, following the rules of etiquette. Dad nods in approval, putting down his tablet.

"Well, hello," Mom says excitedly, handing me her dish to put in the sink. "You excited to see the results?"

Lexi's mother chuckles, voice shaking as she does so. She rubs her hands together in front of her, like she's wringing them out. Her knuckles are white from her own grip.

"As I'll ever be."

Mom attempts to make small talk while the time passes, but Lexi and I simply stare at one another, watching each other swallow. My stomach churns, threatening to boil up out of my mouth. So, I dare not speak, afraid of what would happen.

A notification sound fills the air, and Lexi grabs her tablet up off the table with all the speed of a striking shark. I hold my breath, watching her tap the notification.

"Read it aloud," her mom whispers, watching her daughter. Her eyes are wide, like Lexi's, hands clenched together in front of her.

"Dear Alexis Collins," Lexi says, voice shaking, "Within this e-mail are the results to your Intelligence Exam taken on Monday, May 3rd, 2029. Your score for the first section of the exam was seventy-six percent, giving you one hundred and fifty-two points." Lexi stops, sucking in air.

"Keep going, baby," her mom prods, leaning forward.

I watch Lexi's eyes do a scan of the rest of the letter, darting back and forth. She swallows hard, letting the air out to continue.

"Your score for the second portion was one hundred percent, earning you another hundred points. You have no physical deformities or imperfections. Your score for the third portion was also one hundred percent, giving you a total of four hundred fifty-two points."

She looks up at me, eyes wide.

A score of four hundred fifty-two puts her in the military.

The look on her face is a mixture of surprise and relief. Her mouth is open a little, and tears line her bottom lashes.

I hold my breath, waiting to see how she reacts, but her face is slowly turning red.

"Lexi, breathe," I whisper, leaning towards her. I push the tablet in her hands down onto the table, clicking it off. "You did it."

The silence in the room spreads like wildfire, until Lexi suddenly exhales, smiling widely at me.

"Of course I passed it, Q," she whispers back at me.

I smile, mostly because I remember how nervous she was yesterday. That side of her that she let slip yesterday is gone, repressed again. Truthfully, I'm glad; I like this better.

Her mother claps her hands together suddenly, making me jump.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you," she says, grabbing her in a hug. I look at my parents, who are both smiling but have their eyebrows knitted together. Why registers slowly.

My tablet hasn't went off yet.

My scores aren't in.

"Wait, where's your scores?" Lexi asks me, grabbing my hand and my tablet. Pressing my thumb to the scanner, she flips through the various screens. "It isn't here. Maybe you failed."

I sink back in my seat, hands shaking. No. I can't have failed.

I begin to hyperventilate, feeling the heat in my face.

"No," I whisper, slouching in my seat, "No, no, no."

"Quinn, calm down," my mom says, leaning forward to grab my wrist. I clutch her hand, watching my own knuckles turn white.

The sound of the doorbell nearly makes me fall out of my seat.

"Who would that be?" my dad asks again..

Mom pushes herself up with a groan, letting go of my hand.

"I'll get it this time," she says, patting me on the cheek on the way out of the kitchen.

I hold my face with both hands, trying to focus on breathing.

If I failed, I'll have to leave the compound. I'll be sent away to some inferior compound, and who knows what they'll do to me. Maybe they will make me into a lab rat or a field worker. I wasn't born to work outside; I get a runny nose when I'm near the Ag District too long. I won't get to see my little brother be born, won't ever get to teach him how to read or write or swim or study. Someone else will have to tell him about his older brother, and he will probably be ashamed that his brother was so stupid.

"Quinn?" Mom calls from the living room, "Will you come here, please?"

My father gives me an apprehensive look, nodding.

Pushing myself up, I turn and walk out the door, coming face to face with Professor Binns and a man I've never seen before.

He is average height with hair that's balding in the middle. His outfit is navy blue, like the nurses, but the neatly pressed button-up shirt is tighter on him, pulling against the buttons in the middle. He has pins and badges on his left shoulder and chest, and his name is stitched in gold.

Rivers.

"Good afternoon, Quinn. My name is Colonel Rivers," he says, in a gravelly voice, "We have a letter for you. General Kovach, Professor Binns, and I thought it would be a good idea if we delivered your scores ourselves."

That's when I notice a tall woman behind him. She's wearing a black skirt and white collared shirt, staring over them at me with quick eyes. Unlike Binns and Rivers, she has hair, which she's pulled up into a tight bun. Her eyes are silvery blue, seeming to watch me with all the coldness of a freezer. Her arms are crossed over her chest.

She must be General Kovach, or as I've always known her, President Kovach.

In her hand is a white envelope, and on her face is a one sided smirk, matching her singular raised eyebrow.

Discussion Question: Why do you think the article Quinn was reading was important? General rule of thumb is to only include specific details that pertain to the story. So, why would I include that detail?