I see myself standing in a brilliant light, and I see how radiant and extraordinary I look.

And then I realize it isn't me.

How is it that regardless of the fact that my sister and I are identical, she still seems so much more stunning? How is it that I stand beside her and shrivel in my ugly attempt at the copy machine, a mirror in the physical sense but bearing my face so poorly that it lacks that fire that she possesses, casting a shadow behind her that is always there?

        How is it that she plays the sun, and I play the shadow? Because behind my radiant sister I can see quite clearly a distorted version of myself, vulnerable and weak.

Turning toward me in eerie, smiling silence, she pushes me into an endless black hole that appears behind me inexplicably, and as she does so I can see everyone in the community appear behind her, deriding me with cruelty in their expressions.

        The hole seems endless, and when the people have become too small to see, I am enveloped with ice. The walls begin to grow closer until I feel as if no blood runs through me at all, no oxygen is reaching my lungs because I'm being squeezed so tight. I replay this scene again and again before I wake up shivering in the familiar cold dampness of my sheets.

***

        "Willow? It was just a dream."

        My sister is actually kneeling by my bedside, eyes wide. She's a morning person.

        "What are your dreams about?" She asks curiously, her face up a bit too close to mine.

        "Um, the tests."

        "Hmmm. I get them, too. I suppose I just don't feel it as powerfully."

        Either that, or my dream has truth to it.

        "What time is it?"

        "4:30. Go back to sleep."

        But I know that if I do the nightmares will just come back.

        "Besides," she says, "Today isn't the day to be scared of. Wait until the Fifth to do that."

        "You said I could only worry about the Third when I had passed the Second."

        "Stop being skeptical. I'm trying to be wise. Anyway, you should go to sleep."

        "I can't, now." I try to say it impartially so she doesn't know how afraid I am.

        "I can't tell you to not be scared. I can't change whether you are or not. I can't even tell you that there isn't reason to be worried. But don't be scared of it. The worst that could happen from your standpoint is if I pass with flying colors and you don't...."

        If only she knew.

        "....which won't happen. You're smarter than me. You got one of the top scores in the First. We both know how close I was to failing... And that's just embarrassing."

        "The Third is about social capabilities. Debates. Public appearance and charisma. You know that's not my strength."

        Delphi hesitates, and I can see that she is arguing with herself, trying to come up with the best possible answer to my statement. She sighs.

       "Yep. It's not. However, you know that mathematical thinking is not my strength, and yet I passed the First test. My score was only barely acceptable. They probably let me go to the Second because they know how great I will probably be in the Third. I find it likely that you will be considered a valuable and brainy enough asset to bend the rules a bit."

       I wince. We aren't supposed to say things like that. It falls under Questioning Motives. I consider reminding her, but if I make a thing of it then they are more likely to notice.

Delphi selects a burgundy red blouse from the TouchPad closet.

       "Order the same shirt. I want to switch during testing. It might be really funny!" She says suddenly, trying to break the tension.

       "That's not a good idea. I'm going with green."  I respond almost mechanically, and her face falls. I don't want to confront emotions in any way at the moment, even good ones. It takes so much energy to do so, and I'll need everything I have to manage myself emotionally today.

       We fully wake ourselves up with our mandatory, balanced morning diet. Because I chose swimming for my exercise and Delphi chose running, our plates are ever so slightly different. Also, the half-inch height difference is not insignificant in diet.

Every morning we get pale plastic boxes with a note attached with our names. They are dropped off onto a post that is right by the front door by hovering machines specifically programmed for the job.

        Then we leave our boxes on the stand after eating, and they are picked up and taken back to the food scientists, who fill them again after washing and the whole process starts over again.

        Our dietary scientists calculate the best diets for everyone in the community. This way, everyone is perfectly fit and healthy.

        Delphi even has pills that she takes in the morning for a severe chemical imbalance where she has trouble remaining focused and channeling her energy to stay organized and get things done.

       While I'm still rubbing my eyes, Delphi convinces me to go for a walk with her. Our tiny community has not awoken yet, so everything is eerie and still.

        All of the houses on our side of the community are located in a perfectly symmetrical circle. Our house doesn't have much distinction apart from the fact that it is closest to the Main Road on the right side. Although houses vary in size based off of the size of the family, they are all of relatively the same design and they are all made of brick. It's for practical reasons.

        The Nation of Nkri is located in an area that was just north of the most powerful country in the world a few hundred years ago. When war struck out, it went nuclear, and so many bombs went off that those who did not die of nuclear radiation migrated north and south of that country in efforts to flee.

        Supposedly these bombs went off in several large countries around the world, and small countries like Nkri developed in efforts to regain order. I've never been outside of my country.

       "I have our philosophical question of the morning," Delphi chirps. "Apart from wondering why Darreke and Mitelle were Paired."

       I glance at her — she's definitely trying to make me feel better. I let out a weak laugh.

       "If you could change anything about the world, what would it be?"

       Everything in the whole world? It's such a big place. And so much pain has been inflicted on everything. One thing to change? Besides, we've escaped all of that pain. Maybe we could change some other, more corrupt nation, but what could we possibly change about our own?

       "I don't know," I answer truthfully.

       "Me neither," she admits. "But I think it would have something to do with power."

       She stops talking for a while, which is unusual for her. She must be in deep thought. I consider what she said. I'm really not sure what I would change, though. I make a mental note to remember her statement, and think about it when I can.

       "It's getting late," I say after a pause. "We need to leave soon."

       She just nods her head and trails behind me slightly, eyes distant, as we walk back inside. Our parents are up by now, brewing tea and talking quietly so that we cannot hear. They see us come in and instantly go quiet.

       My father is descended from northerners, which is shown in the pale coloring of his skin and in his silvery blonde hair.

        This is actually quite rare; even those with lighter skin usually have darker hair and more golden tones. I've always assumed that when the people fled from radiation, people from lots of areas of the world ended up in the same place, and multiracial offspring became fairly common.

        It's just a guess, though. We've never been told why we look different from one another. Maybe it's just so normal that people don't question it. I often wonder if I overthink things.

        Anyway, it's probably a good thing: If we were separated too much in a society because of different cultures or ideas, then it would "end badly." This makes perfect sense to me, but I can't help but be curious about my heritage. Especially when my parents look so different. Then again, this is my culture now, so why does it matter?

       While even some people with darker skin have his "Sky eyes" as my mother calls them, almost no one has such light hair as my father.

       My mother is descended from people initially from the East, or so her Identity Information Packet says. But her family has been here for a very long time.

        Thick, dark brown locks frame her square face. Her skin is an olive shade, complimented by massive brown eyes with orange undertones.

        Delphi and I look much more like our mother than our father, but our narrow face structure and small mouths are clearly of his influence.

       "The Hermes will be here in a few minutes." I notice that Delphi pauses, taking a deep breath.

       Soon, the Hermes knocks on our door. We wordlessly follow him to a sleek black van that will lead us to the testing area. The young and clearly naive official with slicked hair and pressed uniform is extremely stiff in body language.

        My teacher told us that this is indicative of stress, and that we should all be compassionate towards people who appear that way.

       It makes me uncomfortable and I try not to look at him while Delphi attempts to get information out of the poor man by asking seemingly innocent questions. He may have been warned about this, though, because he says nothing to either of us, and eventually she gives up.

       Delphi's voice rings in my head as consolidation.

      Today isn't the day to be scared of. Wait until the Fifth to do that.

      It has little effect on my nerves.

        For those of you familiar with Meyers-Briggs personality analysis system, here are the types for our characters:

        Willow Galloway: INTJ
        Delphinium Galloway: ENTP
Xander Rothe: ENFJ
        Azalea Alvine: ISTJ
        Davian Woode: ESTP
        Carson Osipova: ISFJ
        Ashlynne Tameron: ENFP

Which character are you most like? Take the test by googling "Sixteen Personalities: MBTI." Trust us, it's worth it. You might find out a lot about yourself along the way; this system is known internationally as a highly acclaimed psychological analysis.

Comment what your type is HERE!

       Credits to @BeYourselfxx for her amazing cover! She is a fantastic artist and inspired us to make another round of revisions and improvement. If you want a cover, go to her. She's great and she's so sweet!