BRINK: Book 1 - The Passing Read Free Page A

don't worry about it,” Johanna smiled. “Mission accomplished, as far as I'm concerned.”
    I scowled at her through my tears. “A tilted black candy-cane on my lower abdomen is your definition of 'mission accomplished'?”
    She grinned. “It may not be the tattoo you planned to get, but it's a tattoo. And it may not be the biggest act of rebellion in recorded history, but it's quite the step for Brynn Bowen.” Toying with the artfully frayed hem of her skirt, she added, lightly, “Also, you made me some money. Harlow bet me I wouldn't even get you in the chair.”
    I made a mental note to knee Harlow in the groin.
    “There, see?” said Johanna. “I knew pissing you off would help you stop crying.” She held out her arm, which was wrapped in white gauze. “We need to slap one of these on you before that puppy gets infected.”
    “I don't care if it gets infected,” I mumbled, petulant.
    She raised an eyebrow at me. “You'll care when it hurts so much you have to go to class without any underwear.”
    The look on my face must have been priceless. Johanna didn't stop doing imitations of it for days.

III.
    “Remind me again how this whole thing works, Harl?”
    Harlow laughs, a sound that never ceases to amaze me. It's like water tumbling over rocks, the whoosh of a paper fan on lazy afternoon, the low hum of someone singing a lullaby in the next room.
    “I've told you everything I know six times already. You probably have the process memorized.”
    “I do. I just like hearing you say it.”
    He nods, perfectly happy to comply with my request. It's easy to see why he and Johanna are such a fantastic couple. He is the valley – deep and cool, calming and understated; she is the sun-soaked, brilliant mountain peak, the commander of attention. He's me, really, but smarter and sexier and...you know...male. I can't imagine life without either one of them.
    “So, the Algorithm attempts to pair us based on physiology, personality, and personal choice. They've been collecting DNA and doing labs on us at our Yearlies since birth. They'll give us a test tonight to ascertain our values, preferences, and idiosyncrasies, which have been in constant flux for most of our lives but are, theoretically, in the cementing stage of our development.”
    “Mmm,” purrs Johanna with vixen-like smile. “I love it when you talk like that, baby. So many syllables.”
    He grins, slides an arm around her waist, and continues. “After that, they'll allow us choose our partner based on either a number generated by the Algorithm, which uses data from the first two categories of information, or on our own personal convictions of compatibility. If we choose well, God, or some other higher power, will let us live; if we choose poorly, The Curse will end our lives, either immediately, or within a few years. Or so the story goes. You already know my thoughts about that, Brynn.”
    I do know his thoughts. Harlow hadn't actually learned about the processes involved in the Passing ceremony until he encountered them in a gen-ed class at the University, a fact that boggled my mind, since his father was one of the three scientists who developed the Algorithm itself.
    “What, he never talked to you about his work at all?” I remember asking him during a particularly revealing late-night study session in one of the libraries on campus.
    “You've met him, Brynn,” said Harlow as he scrolled through the introduction to a case study that looked to be several thousand pages long. “He's not exactly an open-book kind of guy.”
    I took a sip of coffee, which I hated, but forced myself to drink since finals were fast approaching and I was way behind. It was true. Harlow's father was an observer of the world, not an active participant in it. In my few experiences with him, I had learned most of his thoughts thanks to the constant chattering of his wife, who would simply throw out every possible assessment of a given situation and wait for him to nod