The sun awoke from its solemn slumber, casting rays of soft light onto every corner of the city in the sky. The patterns it created on Zen’s floors were mesmerizing. He wished he could stare at them forever.
          Unfortunately, time was something he didn’t have much of any more.
          He stood up. The creaking of his bed seemed to beg him to stay. He ignored the sound, shuffling through his bedroom doorway and into the living room. Araceli was sitting at the dining table, holding a spoon and making no effort to eat the soup laid out in front of her. Upon his entrance, she looked slowly up at him.
          “Hey,” Zen croaked. He had meant to say a bit more, but he couldn’t seem to form the words properly in his throat.
          Araceli opened her mouth slightly, but said nothing. Zen felt like he was going to cry, so he took himself to the kitchen and looked around halfheartedly for something to eat. Before he could settle on anything, his mother dashed into the room.
          She grabbed onto his searching hands with just a bit too much force. “Zen, honey,” she whispered. “Come eat, I’ve made something for you.” She guided him back to the table, making him sit down next to Araceli before finally letting go of his wrists.
          In front of him she placed a simple bowl with a lavish meal. Vegetables Zen had never seen were dripping with honey and spice, as if they were trying to compensate for something, trying to apologize. He didn’t feel like eating. Araceli was watching him, though, so he choked the food down.
          As soon as he was done, his mother swept him into the bathroom. Among the cracked countertops and dirtied walls sat a folded up nightgown, off-white in color, with a few stains here and there. Still, it was the cleanest thing in his house.
          He changed into it quickly and was about to leave the bathroom when his mother burst back into the room.
          “Oh, honey, you look wonderful,” she crooned. Hurrying over to his side, she ran her fingers through his mussed blond hair, as if that would do anything to calm it down. “Just like Aya. I’m sure you’ll be chosen.”
          “Don’t get your hopes up,” Zen muttered. He tried to take his mother’s hands out of his hair. She clung to it so hard it hurt.
          “No no no, Zen, don’t say things like that!” Her hands were ripping through his curls now.
          “Mom —”
          “Look at you.” She stopped suddenly, and held Zen’s face between her hands so he could see himself in the mirror.
          “So much like Aya,” she murmured. “You’ll win for sure.”
          She let go.
          Zen stared in the mirror. “It’s not a contest, Mom.”
          “You’ll win,” she repeated. The smile vanished from her reflection.
          Zen couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he left the bathroom. Araceli was right outside the door.
          “If you keep taking this long you’re going to be late,” she said simply.
          “I’m starting to think that would be the better outcome.”
          “At least with the Trial you have a chance of survival, Zen.” Araceli’s voice wavered slightly.
          “It’s pretty slim. I’m not a good person, Araceli.”
          “Don’t say things like that!” she cried.
          “Come on —”
          In a sudden flurry, Araceli hugged him. Tight, but not suffocating. Zen could feel her trembling through his nightgown.
          “Araceli?”
          “I love you,” she said into his chest. “Come back for me, okay?”
          “I’ll try,” Zen whispered, and then he was out of words to say.
          When the time came to leave, he couldn’t have felt less ready.