Lifespan of Starlight by Thalia Kalkipsakis

of veins in her neck. I try the woman
from the Disaster Co-ordination Centre but she offers only a pained smile before
glancing down and I’m left staring back at the Minister for Resources and Rationing.
Just him and me.
    ‘Try to help everyone, Coutlyn Roche, and you might end up helping no-one.’ His voice
seems stronger than it should be and I find myself imagining a younger man behind
the dry skin and wrinkles.
    ‘But that’s no reason to stop trying?’ I can’t help the little lift at the end: don’t
you agree?
    The Minister slowly clasps his hands together and rests them on the table. His eyes
stay on me the whole time.
    My lips are dry. I’ve been breathing through my mouth. I shuffle awkwardly in my
chair, searching for an answer.
    Why feed illegals? I want to say. Because we’re human beings, that’s why. We’re meant
to look out for each other .
    And because I’m one of them, of course.
    The silence has lasted way too long, but I have no idea what to say next.
    ‘The reason to stop trying, Coutlyn,’ says the Minister finally, ‘is that now more
than ever we need to use our resources wisely. And that especially includes our human
resources.’ He pauses, and I feel the whole panel watching me. ‘You and your peers
here today are our future, you realise that, don’t you?’
    I’m not sure if he expects an answer, but I sit taller in the chair and nod as agreeably
as I can.
    ‘Some would say that you owe it to your country to work where the need is greatest.
Judging from your IP, Coutlyn Roche, I’d say you were best suited to medicine. Or
disaster co-ordination, perhaps.’
    ‘Okay.’ Still nodding. ‘Yes, that would be okay.’ It’s weird how he keeps using my
full name.
    ‘If you spend your time trying to help people that can’t be saved, others are placed
at risk.’
    ‘I guess. Yes, that makes sense. I could work in medicine.’ I’m saying the words
but they feel empty.
    ‘Well,’ Ms Leoni breathes in and glances around the table. ‘Any more questions from
the panel?’
    Everyone shakes their heads. My eyes stay locked on the Minster for Resources and
Rationing as he clicks something on his compad. He lifts his head to examine me again,
and crosses his arms.
    By now Mum’s standing, so I do too, bowing my head and thanking everyone. Then we’re
out the door into the dusty school grounds and it’s all over.
    It’s over.
    Swirls of wind and dirt outside make it difficult to talk, so it’s not until we’re
heading along the train concourse that Mum speaks. ‘I can’t believe –’
    ‘It’ll be all right.’ No way I’m going to hear her say it out loud. You messed up.
    ‘Yes.’ But her head tilts down. ‘I’m sure it’s fine.’
    Neither of us says anything for ages. If she started yelling about the interview,
then at least I could yell about it too. But how would that help? Screaming about
it isn’t going to change anything.
    In silence, we let the crowd pull us along. I never imagined that I might mess up
the interview. I’ve been prepping for the test for years, but the interview never
worried me. I can’t even work out what annoys me more, the fact that I stumbled so
badly over my answer or the way I backed down.
    As we step through security, I slip a hand into my pocket and grip the lump in the
corner, pressing it hard, angrily, into my palm. The sensors go tuk as I pass, but
somehow the sound has changed.
    I used to think that if I could make it into a good school, I’d become a normal citizen.
Fit in. But I see now that’s not how it’s going to work, even if by some freak fluke
I still make it in. No matter how many times I swipe that chip, it’s always going
to belong to someone else. I’m always going to be illegal.
    We’re almost on the platform when I turn towards Mum. ‘Can I go over to Mason’s?’
Right now, I can’t stand the idea of spending the afternoon with her. It would be
a constant reminder of the interview.
    A pause as she blinks