Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,4

my mother.

“If we refuse to go, it may impact our placements.”

“Really, Lark? That’s what you’re worried about? A test we don’t even take for another three years?”

It did worry me. After all, getting a top job placement in Agriculture is why I pushed myself so hard in school.

But it wasn’t why I didn’t want to go and Beck knew it.

“You have nothing to worry about.” His olive green eyes studied my face. “You’re the top student in our class, you’re a hard worker, and…” He blushed. “You’re pretty. Malin is going to have a hard time finding something wrong with you.”

“But what if that isn’t enough?” So far, all I’ve ever been is a disappointment to Mother. The way she’s always ignored me was testament to that.

A dark shadow crossed Beck’s face. “Malin doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

#

Whistles ring out around us and I crane my neck to get a better view of the long, main table in the middle of the room. Towering arrangements of flowers and crystals climb toward the ceiling, dwarfing the guests seated below. The air shimmers as it passes through the crystals.

Twenty chairs line each side of the table and all but three are occupied. Many of the table’s guests–the Head of State and various department ministers–I recognize from daily wallscreen broadcasts.

Everyone else is most likely Annalise’s family.

Beck and I should be sitting with them. I may have never attended a binding before, but I do know it’s customary for the new couple’s family to sit at the main table. And yet, Mother placed us out here on the floor, as far from the table as possible.

I shift in my seat and my dress crinkles. Under the table, Beck grabs my hand and squeezes it, slowing my pulse to a lazy rhythm. The tension I’ve been carrying around all night fades.

The music shifts once again to a steady drumming. Our tablemates rise to their feet, whistling and clapping in time.

As the noise becomes louder, so does the thundering of my pulse in my ears. Panic attacks–that’s what Bethina called them. Social anxiety. And it’s gotten worse over the course of the past few months. But even if it has a name, it’s still incredibly embarrassing.

No matter how hard I try to fight it, the room sways around me and my legs wobble. As always, Beck’s at my side, his solid arm pulling me to his chest and his fingers tracing circles across the back of my hand.

“It’s okay, Birdie. Just relax.”

But this isn’t like a normal attack, instead of feeling scared, I’m angry. Angry that I’ve been sentenced to the corner. Angry that Mother’s guests are rude to Beck. And angry that my mother hasn’t said so much as ‘hello’ to me.

As the shouts of “best wishes” come nearer to us, Beck’s body stiffen. Can’t say I blame him–he and my brother, Callum, have never gotten along.

“Here they come,” Beck says in my ear.

My eyes skip past my brother, eager to have my first glimpse of my new sister-in-law. It’s customary for the woman to stay veiled during the ceremony, so I have no idea what she looks like since Mother didn’t include a picture with the invitation. My guess is she’s in the center of the gaggle of girls–most likely her housemates–just behind Callum.

As they near us and the girls fall away, fragments of Annalise come into view: thick, inky black hair; a milky white shoulder; a flash of her pale violet dress; ruby lips stretched into a wide smile. And finally, two large, blue eyes that land on my face and light up in recognition.

If I’m lucky, I may end up half as beautiful.

Next to me, Beck stands slackjawed. I elbow him in the gut. “Don’t gawk. She’s coming this way.”

“Lark?” she says in a light, musical voice. “What are you doing out here? You should be at the main table.”

When she notices Beck, her mouth parts slightly and she raises her eyebrows. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had come also.” Her once warm smile is now strained. “How…lovely.”

Without waiting for Beck or I to say anything, she grabs my hand and pulls me away. “Malin? Can Lark sit at our table?”

The crowd around my mother parts and she glides toward us, waving to the guests. Her smile is both warm, and yet conveys an air of authority. And every person in this room loves her.

I hold my breath as she comes closer. Please look at me. At least acknowledge you know I’m