Kill School: Slice Read Online Free Page A

tokens. Their fear is a rehearsal, for I
will not be able to kill any of them until I complete my training. I’ve been
here several times when I was younger, but not recently. They don’t like kids
anywhere near my age coming into the center of town. It spooks people too much.
Rules and regulations prevent our movements.
    Every year, the government decides to restrict more and
more areas to teens with tokens. I am not allowed in the office buildings, but
I am still allowed in the green. One day, we won’t be able to walk anywhere
except to and from school.  
    I take a deep breath and run the rest of the way to the
post office.
    I bound up the post office steps two at a time and enter
the silent hall. At once, cold air blasts my skin, and my arms prickle with
small bumps. An orderly line of men and women wait for forms of various nature.
Permits for PRTs, housing additions, work transfers, and other requests for and
from the government.
    The strangers closest to me watch as I approach the
information desk. Are they also waiting for me to strike? My sixteen birthday,
the day I turn lethal. The woman behind the information desk has a wrinkly face
and gray hair. If I were to guess, I’d say she was over two hundred. Some women
have rejuvenated two or three times by her age.
     “Can I help you?” she asks.
    Layers of sagging skin hide most of her eyes. To me, she
looks beautiful. If I get to be her age, I’ll keep the gray.
    “I’m here to pick up my token.” I choke on the last word.
    She nods. “I thought as much. No parents today?”
    I shake my head.
    “Never mind. They’re not required. This day is all about
you. Personally, I prefer it when children come alone. Parents are a nuisance,
pacing the waiting room, asking all sorts of questions.” She hands me a number
printed on a piece of paper and stares at me.
    I am number six. “Is this it?”
    The old woman throws up her hands as if I should know what
to do. “Of course not. You didn’t let me finish. Go through the door on your
left, into the waiting room so you don’t disturb the other customers.”
    I glance over to the old wooden door. It looks worn out,
much like the woman scowling in front of me.
    “Thanks for your help,” I say.
    She tilts her head. “What did you say?”
    “Thanks,” I say louder.
    “I’m not deaf, girl.” She makes a ticking sound with her
tongue and opens a drawer. “Just surprised. Not many young people say thank you
anymore. It’s a lost art.” She hands me a small green candy in the shape of a
token. “They’ll call you when they’re ready. Good luck.” She smiles, revealing
a full set of white teeth. “Think of me if you get green.”
    Green. Over two hundred. She wants me to terminate her. I
walk over to the old wooden door clutching the candy as if it’s my lifeline. I
want a green. I have a target.
     
    The
waiting room is small, with no more than six or seven chairs. Two chairs are
occupied, one by a girl with straight black hair and another by a woman who
must be her mother. Another elderly woman sits behind a window. I hold up my
number. She ushers me forward with a wave of her hand and slides the glass of
the window open.
    “We don’t need numbers today.” She hands me a stack of
paperwork attached to a clipboard along with a pen. “Fill out and return.”  
    I take the paperwork and she slides the glass window
closed. I feel a pang of embarrassment as I sit—parentless—across from the
girl. I count the forms under my breath and mumble when I reach the end.
Sixteen different forms. I’ll be here all day.
    “What’s your name?” the mother of the girl asks.
    “Aria,” the girl answers for me. “We have fifth period
together. You sit next to Vanessa.”
    “Sorry, I don’t…” I don’t remember her. At all.
    “Jane,” the girl says. “I sit in the back behind Ezra and
Max. You don’t know them either.”
    “Jane, let’s finish these,” the mother says. She puckers
her mouth as