She has authored over twenty-five produced plays including Sister Cities, which was the hit of the Edinburgh Fringe and earned five-star reviews. It has been performed around the United States and internationally, including Paris (Une Ville, Une Soeur) and Rome (Le Quattro Sorelle). She wrote the screenplay that is currently in preproduction starring Jacki Weaver, Alfred Molina, Tom Everett Scott, Stana Katic, and Troian Bellisario. Her musical Serial Killer Barbie premiered at NoHo Arts Center in Los Angeles in November 2014 and opened in New Zealand in September 2015.

Colette has been commissioned to write several screenplays including an adaptation of the best-selling novel, The Last Girls, a modern adaptation of Uncle Vanya and the thriller, Mystery of Casa Matusita, starring Malcolm McDowell. She has co-written, with international best-selling novelist Jackie Collins, the play Jackie Collins’ Hollywood Lies, which begins its regional tour in 2017.

As a director, Colette has won over sixty awards for her commercial work, including the International Summit Award, Telly, and Communicator Awards. She was also first place winner in Creative Writing at the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference. She just co-produced her first film, Quality Problems, starring Jack McGee, Jenica Bergere, Brooke Purdy, and Doug Purdy.

This has been a recurring nightmare throughout my life. At fifteen, I have the usual teenage bad dreams about falling or my teeth falling out, but the spinning nightmare is the most common. It is so real that it feels more like a memory, even though I can’t remember anything like that ever happening to me. In a way, it feels even more real than the memory of losing my baby sister and the turbaned man who took her from me.

I know Sun is alive. Somewhere. Waiting for me. Sometimes I ask my father what happened to her, and he tells me she never existed. But I do have a sister. I know I do. Still, he never wants to talk about her so I don’t press him. I have pushed the memory of her deep into my subconscious, so my dreams are only filled with spinning … and the nameless, blue-eyed boy who once made me feel safe.

Now, the only time I ever really feel safe is when I’m in the water. When I swim, I feel free. My mind is completely unfettered and the nightmares are distant memories. I swim before breakfast every day. It is a routine and I like routines.

Diving through the ocean’s waves, I relish the feel of the cool, salty water as it drenches my skin. I can feel the morning sun breaking on my back as I swim parallel to the jagged shore. I take long, powerful strokes, enjoying my own strength and the solitude. At this hour, I am the only one out here. Soon, the ocean will be teeming with workers taking samples, children learning skills and fishers foraging for food. Right now, the ocean is my private pool and I’m loathe to get out.

This will be my last ocean plunge for almost a month. I’m leaving for camp in a few hours. I take one last dive and open my eyes as I scan the clear water, silently saying goodbye to familiar underwater plants, bright coral reefs, and schools of colorful fish. I turn toward the shoreline and swim underwater until I get to the sand. There, I burst out of the ocean and race home, allowing the wind to dry my body. By the time I jump the three steps of the small beachfront cottage where my father and I live, I can already smell the eggs and toast wafting through the air.

“Hurry Keeva, it’s just about to start,” my father warns.

As I enter the house, I grab a thick towel from the rack near the door and wrap myself in the heavy material. My father loads up my plate and pours me a cup of caffeine. I inadvertently rub my pinky on my Third, a tiny opaque crystalline diamond pierced in the center of my forehead in between my eyebrows. I received it as a baby. Every citizen has one. The news is sent directly to the tiny dot on our forehead through a complex satellite system, which both feeds us important news and tracks us in order to protect us. As the report starts, I slide onto one of the two tall metal stools next to the kitchen counter. This is our morning routine and we eat in silence as the mediacaster intones on a hologram across the room.

“Today, we begin another session of Monarch Camp and I am privileged to introduce the Leader of Global Governance, who would like to personally welcome you. Sobek Vesely.”

The holo feed cuts from the mediacaster to our world leader. Sobek Vesely sits in a high-backed chair and looks directly into the camera.

“Welcome, citizens.” His baritone voice immediately commands attention and I find myself mesmerized. In a clipped accent, he gives the world broadcast, announcing the opening of Monarch Camp’s Summer Solstice Session, a session that my friends and I will be attending.

Unlike my muscular father, Johan, who is tanned from working in the sun every day of his life, Sobek Vesely’s skin is so white it’s almost translucent. His short-cropped brown hair accentuates his strong cheekbones and his black eyes are piercing. He is handsome, in an odd sort of way. Compelling. And extraordinarily tall. Even sitting down, his frame is barely contained on the holo projection.

Sobek Vesely is responsible for bringing our world back from the brink of extinction. He is our leader and I respect and admire him. Unlike my grandparents’ generation, who lived in fear of war and disease and overpopulation and global warming, I live in a world without war. A perfect world where the citizens feel both secure and content. A world run by one united governance with no regional boundaries.

“And I look forward to greeting each one of my future citizens in three weeks as you leave your childhood and officially enter the new world as fully realized citizens.” Our world leader finishes his brief welcome speech and the broadcast cuts to the local weather. Sunny and warm.

It’s always sunny and warm in the Ocean Community.

I finish my breakfast and swing my legs off the stool, practically falling into my father. I love my father, but I don’t understand him. Dr. Johan Tee is a marine biologist who spends all of his time consumed with his scientific experiments to keep the ocean clean. Personally, I don’t think he’s very happy. He wanted to be a surgeon, but instead he became a scientist. After the Great Technology War, he married my mother and moved to the ocean. I think his life is filled with regrets, as he spends more time talking about medicine than his work at the Desalination Plant. He is a man who has trouble expressing emotion, so when it comes time to say goodbye, he gives me the briefest of hugs. I cannot bear to abandon him, since I am his only family. I blink back tears, forcing my voice to sound casual as I quietly tell him that I’ll be back in a few weeks.

Upstairs, in my small attic room, I change into a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. I sit down at my desk and stare at a picture of my mother on my tablet. It was taken just before she died. She was very pregnant and I had my arms wrapped around her belly. I fight back tears, still upset that I never got to say goodbye to her. I shut down my tablet and put both it and my identity watch in the desk drawer. While our Thirds are used to monitor and protect us, our watches are ways that we communicate with each other. They hold holos and memories. They are our lifeline to our friends and family when we are not with them. Yet I cannot bring my watch or tablet with me.

Electronics are not permitted at camp.

There is not a day that goes by when I don’t miss my mother. I hope she is with my father’s parents now. They died after the war, not from the floods, but from the disease that followed. They were not alone. Practically everyone over the age of twenty who was not protected with a data chip perished. It was Sobek Vesely, then a young technology whiz working for one of the major corporations, whose company had manufactured and distributed the Thirds before the war. Because of the former government’s strict regulations, though, there were only enough data chips manufactured for unmarried citizens under twenty. When the war came, the Thirds helped ward off the disease that followed it. My parents were dating, but not married, so they received the chips. They were among the lucky ones.

Because of the success of the Thirds, Sobek Vesely became an instant celebrity. His technology was critical to the future growth and survival of the remaining citizens. And while the old governments were collapsing, Sobek’s star was rising. He became indispensable. Every survivor demanded his input. And he delivered, using his crucial technology to unite the world under one leadership. His leadership. He agreed to fully integrate his technology in exchange for appointment as world leader. People were ready to follow and Sobek Vesely was primed to lead. The survivors were desperate, and Sobek Vesely was a hopeful option. He was both a popular and a promising young man with bright ideas and a clear vision for the future. Because people were dying by the tens of thousands, there was no time for elections, so Sobek Vesely was appointed world leader and created a one-world government.

My grandparents did not survive; neither did my aunts and uncles. But everyone with a chip did, thanks to Sobek Vesely. He brought our world out of its misery into a new era. My friends and I live in a new world where we will never know hunger or poverty or unhappiness.

We are incredibly lucky.

I get up and survey my small room. Although I’ve been mentally preparing for this summer for my entire life, I’m still not quite sure if I’ve packed enough. I like to be prepared for anything and everything. My duffel bag is on the bed. Annika and Rane will be here any minute. For the next three-and-a-half weeks, the three of us will be attending Monarch Camp, the Governance’s mandated camp for all fifteen-year-olds.

Since the Global Governance was established fifty years ago, all children are required to attend camp when they turn five and return ten years later, to be reunited with their intended partner and assigned to their new community. It’s the single most important event of my life; yet as I scroll down the packing list, I don’t want to think about my future … only my present. I wonder if I’m bringing enough stuff. In a pinch, I could always borrow bits and pieces from Annika or Rane, but I’m so freakishly tall, none of their clothes will really fit me. Most of my supplies are already crammed into my blue duffel bag, except the bandanna my father gave me. I’ve knotted it and wrapped it around my wrist, like a bracelet.

There are six work communities: Labor, Agriculture, Ecosystem, Renewable Energy, Ocean, and Academic. Like all members of the Ocean Community, I am identified by the color of my community. Sobek Vesely’s rationale for assigning us a chromatic dress code is to help us understand that the community is bigger than the individual—that we are all united in working toward a collective goal. So, all of my clothes are blue. It’s not that I’m particularly vain, but with red hair and light blue eyes, I lucked out. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if I had to grow up wearing brown like the Agricultural Community or purple like the Labor Community. Hopefully, I’ll never know.

Once I’m assigned to my future occupation community, a butterfly will be tattooed on my left shoulder with my community’s signature color. My best friend Annika’s older sister has a cobalt and sapphire-colored butterfly on her left shoulder, and Rane’s mother has a gorgeous turquoise butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder. Most people who grow up in the Ocean Community are reassigned here, so I’ve been planning my exact butterfly tattoo color for most of my life. Annika and Rane both want azure, but I want aqua—the color of the ocean. That’s where I’m happiest—it’s where I feel safe.

Before the Great Technology War, the oceans used to be so polluted you couldn’t even swim in them or eat the fish. Since Sobek Vesely and the Global Governance rebuilt our society, the waters have become a beautiful aquamarine blue, and completely clean. The ocean is the sole source for our water supply. At the Desalination Plant, where my father works, salt is taken out of the ocean water. Biologists, like my father, work hard to ensure that the water is always clean.

Footsteps stomp up the stairs before I hear my best friend’s voice calling, “Hurry up, Keeva.”

Annika barges into my room. At 5’3,” Annika Aames is nearly six inches shorter than I am and the clumsiest person I know. Still, I kind of envy her. At 5’9,” I am way too tall, way too skinny, and my hair is the color of the sunset. I’m not the kind of person who likes to stick out in a crowd; I’ve made it a habit to try to blend in for most of my life. It’s easier that way.

“Where’s Rane?” I zip up the duffel bag, after haphazardly stuffing it with more of my clothes. All blue.

“Downstairs. You nervous?” Annika’s bright brown eyes scan my face. She can always tell if I’m lying.

“A little. But it’s all predestined, right? So there’s no point in being nervous.” Even as I’m saying it, there is something dancing in the back of my mind … an idea I don’t really understand, which is niggling at me. “Anyway, we’re just being imprinted with our other half and then assigned to a community … and we’re all going to be Oceans, right?”

Annika nods, her high ponytail swinging back and forth as she definitively bobs her head up and down. She, Rane, and I made a pact last week when Rane turned fifteen. Since we’re all born in June, we are assigned to Summer Solstice Monarch Camp. The camp operates four times a year, and we’re really happy that we get to go to camp when it’s warm out. The camp is set in Mid-America and I hear it can get ridiculously cold during the Fall Equinox and Winter Solstice sessions. Annika, Rane, and I plan to stay in the Ocean Community, and it shouldn’t be a problem because the Global Governance, or GG, always encourages pairs to relocate to the female’s community.

“No matter what, I’m going to stay in the Ocean Community. Could you imagine working for Renewable Energy? Boring!” Annika paces around the room. She has a hard time keeping still.

“I think it sounds cool. Getting energy from natural sources.”

“Or Ecosystem, yawn.” Annika keeps talking, a mile a minute. She does that a lot when she wants to make a point. Nothing detracts from her focus. “But the good thing about Ecosystem is at least they wear green, and that would look great with your coloring, Keeva. Red hair, a million freckles—”

“A billion freckles,” I interrupt.

“Exactly! You’d look gorgeous. Especially if you got a kelly-green butterfly tattoo.”

“Why are we even discussing this?” I mutter. “We’re both staying in the Ocean Community.”

“Sure. Unless we’re Anomalies.”

We’re quiet for a minute. There are horror stories about Anomalies: people who get to camp and cannot be reunited with their intended partners due to unforeseen circumstances. They either never come back from camp or are reassigned to other communities.

“Don’t look so serious,” Annika laughs. “We’ll be fine. Though I barely remember my partner. Doug, I think, or Danny … Daniel … Dave? It’s something that starts with a D.” Annika shrugs, “It’s weird that we’re imprinted when we’re so young. You’d think the GG would want us to hang out or something to make sure we’re compatible.”

“Everyone’s compatible,” I say. “That’s why I’m not nervous, because the GG has done the research for us. Our genes match up with theirs. We’ll have perfect kids and good lives. Although, all I remember about my intended partner is that he had blue eyes. The color of the ocean.”

“We both have lousy memories,” Annika laughs.

“Tell me about it.” I can barely remember anything from my childhood, let alone my intended partner. We met at Monarch Camp when we were five, spent three weeks playing together and being tested for compatibility, but that is a faded memory. I can’t even remember his name … only the blue of his eyes. Spinning … spinning … the memory forms and I push it to the back of my mind, “I just hope he’s cute.”

“I know!” Annika giggles. “All I remember is that Doug/Danny had a really big head.”

“He was five. He’s probably grown into it by now.”

“Annika! Keeva!” Rane’s voice echoes from downstairs. “Hurry up.”

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of our lives.” I grab the duffel bag off the bed and easily sling it over my shoulder. Annika follows me down the stairs, toward our exciting future.

“Where’s my son?” he barked to the mousy Academic woman who had been hired to organize the telecast.

“The virtual game room in the South Wing,” she said before disappearing around a corner.

Sobek grinned. No one liked to be around him for very long. Humans were such sensitive creatures, and they didn’t do well with criticism or harsh language. Sobek made it a practice to both criticize and speak down to his employees. He thrived on their fear.

It made him stronger.

He preferred this compound in Sabbatical City to his other palaces in the Asias and Australia. There was something sleek and glitzy about it that reminded him of his own planet so many lifetimes ago. His other two headquarters were located on the other side of the world: Pyramid City based in the Giza Pyramid in the former Egypt and Argyle City based in the old Argyle diamond mine where his workers crystallized the diamonds, along with his own secret compound, into Thirds.

Sobek looked around at his sumptuous palace in the heart of Sabbatical City. It was filled with statues of gods these people had worshipped centuries earlier. Before he took over the world, this used to be called Caesar’s Palace and was located in a silly place called Las Vegas.

It was as if waves parted as Sobek stormed through the compound, looking for his heir. Calix had grown up alongside other children. He had schooled with them and played with them: this was important for his socialization. One can’t control what one does not understand. But playtime was over and Sobek was ready to groom his son to take over his kingdom.

First, his son would have to be properly educated.

Annika, Rane, and I board the helicraft outside our secondary school. The large black machine takes off quickly, leaving my beloved community behind. I watch the ocean disappear as the helicraft heads due east. I live on the coastline of West America, in a place that was once called northern California. I put my nose to the window and look through the dark glass as the terrain turns from green to brown. Once upon a time, this trip would have taken longer. That was before the war, when the world looked a lot different.

After the war, the polar ice caps in the North Pole melted. South America, Antarctica, and Europe instantly sank into the oceans, killing all of their citizens. The United States barely survived, left with only eleven of its original states. Our west coast and slightly inland survived and Africa’s east coast and slightly inland survived. Canada and Mexico were similarly decimated. Only Asia and Australia remained completely intact, in a bizarre twist of fate where countries sank despite their mountainous regions. It was simply a matter of geographic placement.

The world was quickly redivided.

The former United States and Canada, only shells of their former greatness, were trisected into three parts: West, Mid- and East America. West America and East America are bordered by oceans. Mid-America is the section of land between. The Americas take up about a third as much land as they used to before the war because everything from the former East Coast all the way to Texas in the South and up to North Dakota sank underwater.

Monarch Camp is located smack-dab in the middle of Mid-America on the former border of Utah and Nevada. As we soar through the air, I see a never-ending expanse of brown, dry land beneath me. There are very few bodies of water as we fly farther inland. A lake here and a lake there but nothing significant. I squeeze my armrests and watch the white of my knuckles as I try to control my panic. I’m not sure what is happening to me; I feel a sense of dread knowing that I’ll be landlocked for the next few weeks.

Rane, Annika and I sit in the helicraft’s first four rows. There are three rows of three seats behind us. The helicraft carries twelve fifteen-year-olds from our community and one pilot. We don’t speak during the ride. Each of us is too nervous about what we are going to find when we arrive at camp. Rane senses my anxiety and squeezes my arm. Her touch calms me. The bright royal blue of her fingernail polish contrasts sharply with the porcelain color of her skin. Throughout my life, Rane has always been there for me when I’ve been nervous. So has Annika. So what do I have to be nervous about? For most people, Monarch Camp is a solitary experience. I get to go there with not one, but two best friends.

I close my eyes and try to relax. There are ten heli-crafts in total from each community, each carrying a dozen teenagers. Math’s never been my strong suit, but Rane, who’s a whiz at everything, told us that there will be around 840 total campers at this session. Before the Great Technology War the population was out of control and there were over five million fifteen-year-olds … which means a few hundred thousand would have been attending the Summer Solstice session. Now, there are just a tiny fraction of those teens left.

That’s why Sobek Vesely and his Global Governance have worked so hard to protect us from our past: to preserve our future.

And I know exactly what my future will be. Annika, Rane, and I will end up back in the Ocean Community. It is all I know and all I want to know. All three of our families have lived in this community since the war and I don’t want to live anywhere else. The Aameses and the Crow-leys have been like a family to me as long as I can remember. The three of us were raised like sisters, constantly sleeping over at each other’s houses, swimming, and planning our futures together. After my mom died, I probably spent as much time at Annika’s house as my own, and her big sister Quill and her sister’s partner Jed have been like older siblings to me. I’m not as close with the Crowleys, Rane’s parents, although I used to have a crush on Rane’s older brother, Cannon. He went to Monarch Camp three years ago and now lives in East America in the Academic Community with his partner Jo. Even though he visits on the two prescribed visiting weeks each year, he already seems … different: like a foreigner.

So my plan is to have a fun three weeks, reunite with my partner and return to the Ocean Community to fulfill my destiny.

“Stop daydreaming,” Rane nudges me. “We’re here.”

I look out the window. We are hovering in the air and there are helicrafts to our right and left. Below, a line of helicrafts land in an orderly fashion. The large, black, flying machines take turns landing on the designated heliport that sits in the middle of the mountainous range.

Once we land, we lug our duffel bags through a large tunnel, which has been carved through a mountain. We walk single file. Annika is ahead of me, Rane is behind. It is dimly lit and hard to see so we must take small steps in order not to trip, which Annika does—three times. We walk like this for almost a mile until we finally see the light. Just beyond the tunnel’s exit is the camp. I blink several times as my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. It is flatland as far as the eye can see. These parts used to be called the Bonneville Salt Flats, a densely packed salt pan that covered thirty thousand acres. There used to be little significance to the area before it became the site for the America’s Monarch Camp.

Before the Global Governance built a camp on top of the salt pan, it was just loads of salt, a few abandoned government buildings and old airfields. There is now no longer a need for the government buildings. The old national government used to be based in a place called Washington, which sank during the polar ice melt and is now completely under water.

So Sobek condemned all the old government buildings because he had no need for extraneous government locations, including these former government buildings. He condemned the airfields on the Salt Flats where the former government carried out military experiments. Sobek doesn’t believe in global warfare so once he came into power, all munitions and bombs were destroyed.

“The only weapons we need are our minds,” is one of Sobek’s mottos.

This motto is etched into our currency chips as a constant reminder of the importance of peace. In his palace in Sabbatical City, Sobek finds ways to keep the world at peace. I smile, lucky to be alive in a time when calm and nonviolence will always prevail.

“Welcome to Monarch Camp,” Annika reads from the huge sign at the entrance of the camp. It is made out of sheet metal and there are seven colored butterflies hanging from the bottom of the sign, spinning in the wind. Each community’s color is represented by a butterfly painted in purple, brown, green, red, blue, yellow, or black.

As we pass under the sign, we each tap our respective butterflies. Annika, Rane, and I reach up and hit the blue butterfly, which is hanging in between Renewable Energy’s Red butterfly and Ecosystem’s Green butterfly. I feel giddy as I share in the collective energy of the kids all entering camp. While I am making my official entrance, a boy knocks into me as he is hitting his red butterfly. He doesn’t even apologize.

“Um, excuse me,” I tap him on the shoulder.

“What?” he smiles as he spins around.

“You just bumped into me.”

“Sorry about that, Beanpole, but how do you know you didn’t bump into me?” He has full lips and a large toothy smile. He is much cuter than any of the boys at home, but I quickly dismiss this as I confront him.

“Beanpole?” He is as tall as I am and I glare into his mocking eyes. “You were the one who bumped my shoulder.”

“And I’m saying, maybe you bumped my shoulder.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” I don’t have a lot of experience with boys outside of my community. I wonder if they are all this obnoxious.

“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t, but I definitely know that I’m not the one who is holding up the line.” He grins again. Sure enough, there is a long line of Oceans waiting to pass through the opening, and I am holding them up.

“Whatever.” I knock my butterfly and enter the camp. I want to scream at him but he is already ahead of me, surrounded by his posse of red. I won’t let my first day be ruined. My life is about to officially begin and I couldn’t be happier. It’s weird that I can barely remember this place from my childhood. How strange that, as a five-year-old, I must have walked a mile underground without being afraid. Or taken a helicraft without fear.

It’s odd, the things I remember and the things I don’t.

Men and women in crisp, black uniforms herd us toward the flagpole where we will be assigned to our bunks. As we head to the center of camp, I see two dozen adults standing by officiously, wearing the colors of the seven communities. I hear one of the black uniforms tell a camper that these will be our counselors for the next three weeks.

“How soon do you think we can go swimming?” Rane asks as we walk.

“Huh?”

“Look, there’s a lake!” Rane turns me clockwise and I immediately smile. There is a large man-made lake just to our left with several wooden cabins around it. I’ll be able to swim! Sure, it won’t be in my beloved ocean, but I will feel more at home. Smiling, I look over the rest of the terrain. There are more cabins to our right at the base of the mountain. There are playing fields behind us and just in front of us is a flagpole bearing the seven striped flag of Global Governance. I look back at the lake. Just beyond it is an imposing stone building which, judging from my history lessons, has the design of the Victorian period. I’ve never seen anything like it. It is completely out of place, but stunningly beautiful with tall stone structures with turrets.

“What’s in that building?” Rane asks a passing counselor. While I am fairly shy around strangers, Rane has no problem letting her voice be heard, especially if she is curious about something, and Rane is always curious. She is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life.

“It’s part of MC-5,” the counselor in black says.

“What’s that?” Rane presses.

“Monarch Camp for five-year-olds. They come for the last week of the month. Just after you go home.” He rushes off, trying to reign in a group of boys from Ecosystem who have wandered away from the pack.

“We should check it out,” Rane impishly whispers.

“No way,” I say.

“Way,” she shoots back. “C’mon Keeva, aren’t you even curious? We can see what all of the fuss is about. Check out the place where we met our intended partners ten years ago.”

“I’m not planning to get into trouble while I’m here.” It’s not that I’m not interested, I am. But I want to stick to the program.

“Suit yourself. But when I have a free moment, I’m definitely going,” Rane says.

“C’mon, let’s get good seats.” I pull Rane in the direction of the flagpole where everyone is congregating. Rane, Annika and I sit at the far left of the semicircle so that we can have a perfect vantage point of the entire procession.

A hard-looking woman in a black uniform walks up to the flagpole and I know that my session is about to begin.

“Welcome, Citizens.”

Everyone quickly settles down and finds a patch of ground to sit on as the woman with short-cropped white hair and high cheekbones raps her ringed hand on the flagpole, making a surprisingly loud noise. Annika, Rane, and I sit side by side, holding hands and waiting eagerly for our fates to be decided. Annika’s sister Quill told us everything that is about to happen, so we are prepared as we watch the announcements. Quill said that we should try to remember every moment from the second the Camp Director starts speaking. It is such a mind-blowing experience to finally be reunited with your intended mate that it’s easy to get caught up in the emotion of it. Quill can still describe the first time she and Jed were reunited. Each moment. Each feeling. It’s a story I’ve heard far too many times and I’m ready to have my own story to tell.

“Welcome, Citizens,” the handsome woman repeats as the last few whispers quiet. “My name is Claudia Durant and I am your Camp Director. Welcome. Over the course of the next hour, I will be announcing each group of intended partners. As you know from your sociology lessons, these partnerships have been carefully arranged to ensure a long and happy life.” She gives a practiced smile before consulting her digital tablet. “I will be calling you by the girls’ bunk assignments. Girls Camp is located next to the lake and Boys Camp is at the base of the mountain. When you hear your name, please come forward. You will have two hours to reunite with your intended partner and explore the campground before continuing on to your assigned bunks. Nothing is off limits except the administration building.” She points to the same Victorian building that Rane asked about. I feel Rane squeeze my hand, but I ignore her, focusing my attention on the Camp Director.

“When your names are called,” Claudia Durant says, pausing for a split second to survey the entire camp before continuing, “you will feel something you have never felt before. It is OK. It is just part of the imprinting process.”

Annika, Rane, and I sit nervously, surrounded by a group of kids from the Ocean Community. All the communities are huddled together. It is an uneven rainbow with blues, browns, purples, greens, yellows, and reds all assembled in patches. Only the Protectors, kids in sleek black outfits who look a lot more mature than we do, congregate in smaller groups, peppered among the larger cliques.

“Bunk 1 Girls! Annika Aames, your intended partner is … Dante Suarez from Bunk 1 Boys.”

Annika jumps up and we all scan the crowd. At the edge of the red group, a caramel-skinned boy rises. He has thick black hair and a big smile. When they lock eyes, I notice something quite remarkable. Annika’s Third begins to buzz. I can hear the soft purr of electricity and I watch as she closes her eyes. Annika is momentarily in shock before she opens her eyes again. She shakes her head, trying to understand the new jolt of energy.

“What’s happening?” I whisper.

“It’s … it’s incredible” is all she says. Her eyes glaze over and her pupils suddenly dilate. My usually klutzy friend doesn’t trip once as she makes her way to the flagpole. The entire time, her eyes are locked on her intended partner who smiles widely at her as he deftly glides through the crowd. Dante Suarez’s body has clearly caught up with his head and he is cute. Really cute. Annika’s smile takes up her entire face and I watch as she grabs his hand and pulls him along to the lake area.

Claudia Durant keeps calling out names. First the girl’s name, then her intended partner’s name. It’s a fascinating process to watch because no one has any idea who their intended partners are. As each girl’s name is called, everyone murmurs and looks around before her intended partner’s name is called. I feel privileged to be a spectator in such an important life event. The only person who seems unfazed by the activity is the Camp Director. Durant has clearly been in charge for a long time because she is almost bored by the task.

Claudia Durant finishes listing the partners in Bunk 1 and moves on to Bunk 2. Annika is the only person from the Ocean Community assigned to Bunk 1. It is filled with mostly Labor and Ecosystem girls. I can still see her in the distance by the lake and I try to suppress my jealousy. She has been assigned to someone who she likes. With whom she seems completely compatible. I hope that I am equally satisfied.

As each of the bunks is called out, I observe the flashes of fear, uncertainty, and excitement on each of the intended pairs’ faces as they are matched together. Then, I hear their Thirds buzz before a calm washes over them. I can’t wait for the calm to wash over me. With each name Claudia Durant calls, I feel increasingly anxious. She finishes calling Bunks 2 and 3 and begins on Bunk 4.

Even though many of the matches are across communities, people seem generally suited to each other. A gangly girl from the Labor Community squeals with delight as she is partnered with a tall, athletic boy from the Agricultural Community. The Lauderdale twins, who are in my grade in the Ocean Community, are matched with a pair of identical twins from the Ecosystem Community. Claudia Durant calls out Bunks 5 through 15. More squeals of excitement, more future partnerships solidified. The Global Governance has taken all unknown variables out of partnerships and the result is a one-hundred-percent success rate for marital pairings. In my grandparents’ time, more than half of the couples used to get divorced. Now, there is no such thing, because people are matched from the inside out, rather than from the outside in. Our DNA dictates our compatibility. The guesswork has been removed. I am so entranced by the process, I barely notice that neither Rane nor I have been called.

“What bunk are they up to?” Rane asks twisting her nearly white, blond hair around her finger. She always does that when she’s nervous. Rane is almost as tall as I am and she wears black spectacles, which make her light blue eyes look enormous.

“No clue—16? 17?” I quickly count the number of bunks along the lake. Twenty in total. I look around at the remaining campers. There are no longer distinct assemblies of color, just a small circle of nervous faces scanning the crowd, wondering whom their intended partners will be.

“We’ll be fine.” I clasp my hand tightly in Rane’s to comfort her, and before she can respond, her name is called.

“Bunk 19 Girls—Rane Crowley. Your intended partner is Edward Stoppard—Bunk 19 Boys.”

I can barely stifle a laugh. Eddie is a member of the Ocean Community who lives half a mile up the shore. His father works with my father. Rane is being matched with Eddie, nerdy Eddie. I am still tightly clasping Rane’s hand when she is imprinted. Suddenly, I feel a spark of energy jolt through my fingers. It is coming from her Third, and I feel the energy travel from in between her eyes through the rest of her nervous system, eventually shocking her hand, which in turn shocks my hand. I watch her eyes, magnified by the glasses. Her brown pupils get bigger and bigger, covering up most of the light blue. A wave of calm envelopes her body and she stands up.

Unflustered. Serene.

I watch the pair shyly greet each other, old friends who are now suddenly asked to change the entire nature of their relationship.

The pairing makes sense.