Fast-Tracked Read Online Free

I would have rather lived without.
    But I didn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings, so I pushed my food around my plate and took a miniscule nibble once in a while. To distract her, I made small talk the entire time.
    “So how far away is the nearest purple neighborhood?” I asked. Unfortunately all I could think about this morning was assessment placement, and my small talk reflected that fact.
    “About twenty minutes north. Why?” my dad asked with a raised eyebrow.
    “Oh, no reason,” I replied, but I could tell by his unchanged expression that he wouldn’t let me get away with such a vague answer. Suddenly, I realized that I had probably insulted both of them. Both my parents were blue-level and they had great jobs. “It’s just that I was hoping to teach like mom, but I’d really like to teach science to the older children instead of foundation skills,” I quickly explained. I hoped my dad would understand and not take offense that I wanted to be a higher level than him.
    I relaxed as my dad gave me a wink and said, “I can easily see you teaching all the children how to build their own robots and wind turbines from scratch.”
    I let out a relieved sigh and said, “I’ll make sure to invite you on those days so we can relive some of my childhood memories together.”
    My dad smiled warmly back at me, probably remembering the day I came home demanding he teach me to make a robot like the big kids could. I was only six at the time, but he patiently indulged me. The only restriction he imposed was that he had to do the soldering himself – I just had to show him what and where to solder. It had taken several months and more mistakes than I could count, but eventually we had it working and over the next year we perfected it so it easily outperformed all the other kids’ robots. Well, except Byron’s. We had eventually conceded to call it a draw between each other.
    Eventually my dad took pity on my unwilling stomach and when my mom wasn’t looking he scraped my plate into his. That gave me the freedom to excuse myself and call Byron. At least when I was talking to him, time wouldn’t feel like it had frozen on me.
    “Hey, Lexi ,” Byron greeted me a bit too exuberantly. I immediately knew he was feeling as excited, nervous, and anxious as I was. “I wish we could leave for just the morning and go outside. This endless waiting is going to kill me,” he moaned.
    “Do you want to chance the consequences of not being here when the letters arrive?” I asked. Not that I had to. It was mandatory that the assessed student be at his or her home at the time of delivery. Part of the reason it was delivered on Rebuilding Day was because our entire family was given the day off so they could rejoice in our excitement as we discovered what our futures held. But over the years too many families had used it as an actual vacation day and went out, away from their homes. It led to a nightmare of delays and mix-ups. Families would return home to discover they had John B. Smith’s envelope and not Jon B. Smith’s. In some cases legal battles ensued as the family who mistakenly received the higher color refused to return the letter.
    So in the end a law was passed that made it necessary for the student to be home at the time of delivery. That way an iris scan could be performed to make sure all letters went to the proper recipients. The penalty for missing delivery was an automatic drop of a class level – even if it meant you dropped from blue to red.
    “I just wish I could see you while we wait. That’s all. We’re two houses apart, but it might as well be the other side of the country today,” he grumbled. I shared his frustration. Since we first kissed, hardly a day had gone by when we weren’t together.

    “I know, but it’s just until we get our letters. Then we can see each other every day without our parents complaining about it. Hey, maybe they’ll finally give us a little privacy.” I wanted to