Both of our mothers are standing at the bottom of the stairs when we approach the mild orange house with 18 painted on the side. The short, tanned woman who gave birth to me has her arms crossed, thick eyebrows blending together as she glares at me. Her brown hair is messy, piled up on the top of her head, strands falling around her face. In the heat of the mid-day, she sweats profusely, a product of both the humidity and the fact she's expecting.

It's very apparent that she rushed out to meet me when the notification came through that I'd received a strike.

Lexi's mom is a polar opposite of my own. She's tall, thin, and has pure blonde hair that lays in one long braid down her back. The look on her face isn't anger. With her hands stuck in her apron pockets, she wears a face of disappointment and sadness.

Honestly, I can't tell which one I would rather come home to.

"Look, Mom, I'm-"

Mom has me by the ear before I can even finish my statement, dragging me up the stairs without a word. Lexi cackles like a hen, stopping only when her mother smacks her in the back of the head.

"Get in the house," her mother scolds, in her whispery voice.

"Quinn Lee Austin," Mom growls, throwing me into the house. The frame shakes as she slams the door, pointing a finger at my chest. "How. Dare. You."

"Look, Mom, I'm sorry," I try to say, feeling like a pea on the floorboard under her.

"YOU'RE GOING TO BE," she screams, swatting at me with her open palm. Knowing I shouldn't but doing it anyway, I run towards the kitchen, protecting my head.

"Mom, I'm sorry," I plead, trapped by the counter, "I didn't know the guards were patrolling!"

"So you're sorry you didn't look both ways before crossing the road?" she says, laughing as her face becomes more red.

"No, no," I say, trying to catch myself before she swings again, "I'm sorry I broke the rules. I'm sorry I scaled the wall."

She settles back a few steps, her face turning a light pink instead of maroon. Just when I think I can exhale, she grabs the towel from the sink and smacks my legs with it.

"What were you thinking?"

"We do it all the time! I didn't think we would get caught."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I've made another mistake. Her green eyes seem to glint as she begins to furiously swat at various parts of my body with the towel. I cover my head, wincing at every impact.

"Mom, please, stop."

Silence rests between us. I risk glancing up at her, only to see her eyes the size of saucers and the towel dangling mid-air behind her.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "It was a mistake, Mom. I promise. Please, stop."

Her face softens, but not the anger in her eyes. She still towers over me like a bear, but with every second that passes, she shrinks down.

"Why, Quinn?" she finally asks, taking a long deep breath, "You don't do anything without reason."

I let my hands drop to my side.

I can't tell her about the Repor, because I don't want to entangle her in my wild mystery. She'll say I'm being immature and letting my head drift into the clouds. Yet, I also can't give her the excuse we gave the guard; she knows I'm smart enough to know shipments don't come on Sundays.

"Answer me," she prods, rearing back the towel again.

"I just wanted to go one more time before the exam," I say, hurriedly, blocking my legs from the towel. "It's exciting, and I know I can't do it after we take the IE."

After thinking about it for a moment, Mom takes a step back. Her face is back to it's normal color, eyes gentle but stern still.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, rubbing her head, "I just don't want you getting into trouble when you've come so far."

"It's one strike, Mom. I'm not getting sent off."

"No, but..." her voice trails off. "Just be careful, Quinn."

I take a deep breath.

"I won't get another one," I say, touching her shoulder, "I promise."

She deflates another few feet, sitting down in the kitchen chair, resting a hand on her stomach.

"It's the hormones," she adds, laughing breathlessly. I laugh, sitting down across from her. "You're grounded, by the way. For the rest of the week." We laugh together at that. Like I would go anywhere anyway.

"Are you getting nervous?" she asks, passing me a bowl of fruit. I shake my head, for both the fruit and her question. "Is Alexis?"

"I really don't know," I say, shrugging, "We haven't really talked about it much."

Which is true. When she brings it up, I change the subject, and when I try to talk about it, she runs off somewhere.  The IE is like a fly trap between us, and we are just skirting around it, never quite landing.

"It doesn't feel like you should be old enough to take it," she mumbles, chewing on her lip. "Then again, it feels like I was just taking it yesterday."

I smile over at her. She took it when she turned sixteen, even though she wasn't born inside the compound. Her score was just barely high enough, 402, and she now works in the agriculture fields, planting and sowing. She's on leave right now, due to her pregnancy.

"Is it hard?" I blurt out, looking up.

"You know I can't talk about it, Quinn," she says gently, shaking her head.

"I'm not asking you to tell me how many questions it has or anything. Just, is it hard?"

"It was hard for me, but I tried my best. You should do the same."

I chew at my lip, tasting the copper as I break skin.

"What if my best isn't good enough? What if I fail?"

She reaches over and squeezes my hand.

"If that happens, which it won't, you'll be sent to another compound to thrive," she says, "And this compound will have missed an opportunity." She's quiet for a moment. "But you won't fail. You're smart. Professor Binns never has a bad thing to say about you."

If I told her he never had a bad thing to say about anyone, she wouldn't believe me. She pushes a strand of hair off her face, standing up suddenly.

"You head to your room and study," she says, "The more prepared you are, the better."

I nod, pushing my chair in as I leave.

In my room, I sit at the desk, the small touch-screen tablet loading up in front of me. It asks for my credentials, and I press an open palm to it's surface. The screen comes to life with 'Good Afternoon, Quinn Austin' written in block letters across the top. The font reminds me of the Repor.

A small ding sounds, and I click the blue speech bubble that appears.

"Grounded." It says, "For today and tomorrow."

I attach the keyboard to the tablet, typing a quick reply.

"No fair. I'm in for the rest of the week."

Lexi's reply comes quickly.

"How's your ankle? I saw you limping."

"It's fine. I landed on it funny."

"Sorry I let you fall." She adds a smiley face at the end of the message, the one with all it's teeth showing, just like she would be.

"It's fine, A."

This time, the three dots that say she's replying spend a few seconds blinking.

"Study, Q. Big day tomorrow."

"You too. See you in the morning?"

"@6:30," she types, and the message box disappears.

I should be studying. Everything in my future will be determined by this one exam. Yet, I feel like I'm falling, in the second definition of the word. I've collapsed, surrounded by worry and anxiety. After staring at the screen for a few minutes, I put my head down on the desk. One nap won't hurt me, I tell myself as I fall asleep.

A/N: So, it's interesting to me that I have gotten to explain how three different types of parents react to their child doing something against the rules! First, Jay's dad and his cold shoulder, and now there's Quinn and Lexi's mothers. Who would you rather come home to after you breached the wall?