Bluebloods

My blood will determine my life. At age sixteen, each and every teenager in New York City is required to get their blood drawn on the annual occasion — Blood Day. Depending on your blood type, you’re assigned a career to carry out for the rest of your life. Whatever career you’re given, it’s an honor to be chosen.

My sister never got that privilege.

On her Blood Day, she vanished without a trace — like she was never there at all. Ever since then, I haven’t gone an hour without thinking about her. Wondering where Cate went, and why she hasn’t come back. Today is the anniversary of her disappearance. The day my life is determined for me, the day I learn the fate I’ve been destined for since birth — and it’s also my birthday. I couldn’t be more terrified. What if I’m destined to be a Street Sweeper? Or, worse, what if I disappear, too?

The scratchy voice of my father interrupts my thoughts.

“Rosalyn!”

Without a second thought, I hurry downstairs to my wheelchair-bound father, plastering on a smile that I hope is at least somewhat reassuring. If I don’t get a high-paying job, I won’t be able to afford the medication to keep him alive — and in the weeks since his diagnosis, he’s already become a hollow shell of who he used to be.

He smiles dimly as I approach, clasping something tightly in his fist. “Happy birthday, Rose,” he says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, Da.” For a moment, we are both quiet, remembering the events of this same day that seemed a lifetime ago. But before my facade can falter, I brush it off, hide the memories that are too painful to recall.

“What’s that?” I probe, pointing at his hand.

He glances down at the mysterious object, as if he’d forgotten about it. “It was your mother’s,” he says fondly, opening his palm. I recognize the necklace from the one photo I’ve seen of her — my parents’ wedding photo, hidden after her untimely death. As I picture it, the pearls seem almost ghostly with the memory.

“It’s beautiful,” I manage, clasping it delicately around my neck. By accident, I catch my reflection in the mirror across the room. My long, dark hair flows in gentle waves down my icy dress, in contrast to the pearls but coinciding well with my pale blue stare. Sixteen years old, and I am a perfect vision of my mother.

“She would have wanted you to have it today,” my father murmurs. “For luck.”

I only nod, turning away to hide any emotion my face might betray.

“I love you, Rosalyn,” he reminds me. “No matter what happens.” I give him another smile, draping my arms around his shoulders in a hug.

“I know, Da,” I whisper. “And no matter what, I will save you. I promise.” With a kiss on the cheek and tears burning in my throat, I leave before he can say more. As I step onto the sidewalk, the warm autumn air greets me. Ash drifts in the wind, but I barely notice it — instead, my attention is snared by the commotion down the street, where two police officers haul a man out of his house, kicking and screaming.

“Let go of me!” he begs. “My blood type is A, ask anyone! It’s —" Mercilessly, they shove him into a patrol car, seeming relieved as they lean against the doors.

“Those Bluebloods are savage,” one officer remarks, rounding the car. “Wonder what Boss wants them for.”

Suddenly, as if sensing my presence, he stops. With a slow, deliberate turn, he levels a hard stare on me. Ice slithers through my veins as our eyes meet, a moment that lasts forever. After what seems like an eternity, the officers get into their car and drive away, the street eerily silent in their wake. I shudder, clutching my pearl necklace in hopes of solace. What the hell is a Blueblood, and why do I feel like I don’t want to find out?

After a long walk and an even longer wait, I find my seat in the outdoor auditorium between two boys, both ruggedly handsome. The first one busies himself talking to others nearby, but the dark-haired, blue-eyed latter gives me a broad smile as I settle in beside him.

“Damien,” he says, offering his hand. I take it, introducing myself. It’s unusual for a boy to be so forward, and it draws me to him instantly. “What career are you hoping for?” he inquires, pinning me with his crystal gaze. What do I tell him? A high-paying one, and risk sounding poor? Or a random one, hoping to seem knowledgeable?

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “What about you?”

He runs a hand through his already tousled hair. “Clean Water Scientist.” Before I can formulate a reply, a woman strides across the stage to a microphone, and waits for us to silence.

"Greetings, East Province,” she smiles, waving an all-encompassing hand. “I’m Haleigh Georgiou, your annual Blood Day speaker and Head of the Clean Water program. Let us start by remembering the past.” As she speaks, a large screen lights up behind her, applying visuals to her words. “One-hundred years ago, an asteroid decimated the Earth with unprecedented force, setting off a chain reaction of earthquakes, tsunamis, and, most catastrophically, volcanoes,” she explains, pausing for dramatic effect. I’d known this already, but her unique telling of the familiar events is almost hypnotizing. “As a result, weather patterns were interrupted for hundreds of years — and the water cycle permanently disrupted. The survivors of this fateful Event lived in what had once been the north-eastern United States, but the most powerful of them claimed the remaining clean water for themselves,” she drawls. “So, the land was split into two provinces. The province for the privileged, East Province, and the province for the unfortunate — West Province. This divide bred hatred in the hearts of the neglected, and worry in the hearts of the lucky, for they knew that the water wouldn’t last.” The audience stirs uncomfortably, myself included. Gesturing to the screen, the woman continues, “That’s why we instituted the Clean Water Movement thirteen years ago, where a team of dedicated scientists are working hard to purify any water.” The auditorium erupts into clapping as the screen displays a beautiful waterfall. I sneak a glance at a fiercely clapping Damien, and join in as the speaker raises her hand for silence. “In the aftermath of the Event, the East Province sought to organize the survivors, and the easiest way to do so was through their blood type.” The screen changes to reflect the different variations. “There’s type A, the intelligent. Type B, the creative. Type AB, the athletically inclined, and type O, the beautiful,” the speaker announces. With a glance at Damien, I confirm he must be either type A or type O. “And lastly, we’ve discovered a new blood type,” the woman reveals, drawing murmurs from the crowd. With a sickening feeling in my stomach, I somehow know exactly what she’s going to say. Haleigh smiles sweetly, and our eyes met for a fleeting moment. “We call it type X, or Blue blood.” The audience begins buzzing with chatter, but all I can think about is the Blueblooded man from this morning being thrown into a patrol car. I grip my chair for support, uneasiness roiling in my gut. “This is a very rare blood type, and it is an honor to possess it,” Haleigh underscores. “If you learn today that Blue blood runs in your veins, there are great things in store for you.” The blond boy on the other side of me clenches his chair with a sudden fury. He stares daggers at the ground, a muscle in his jaw feathering dangerously as Haleigh clears her throat. “Now then!” she chirps. “Proceed to your testing rooms. Your fate awaits.”

Wordlessly, the boy jumps up, shoves through the crowd, and is gone. “Well, that was weird,” Damien observes. As I turn to face him, I have a feeling he’s not just talking about Blue blood.

“Yes, it was.”

“I’ll ...see you after testing, I hope,” he says sheepishly.

“I hope so too,” I admit, managing a half-hearted smile. “Good luck!”

With a wave, he vanishes into the masses. As I head after him, I glance over my shoulder, but the light-haired boy is gone.