standing and facing the crowd, which began spontaneously the collective murmur of his name.
“Jonas.” It was a whisper at first: hushed, barely audible. “Jonas. Jonas.” Then louder, faster. “JONAS. JONAS. JONAS.”
With the chant, Jonas knew, the community was accepting him and his new role, giving him life, the way they had given it to the newchild Caleb.
His heart swelled with gratitude and pride. But at the same time he was filled with fear.
He did not know what his selection meant. He did not know what he was to become. Or what would become of him.
Nine
NOW, FOR THE first time in his twelve years of life, Jonas felt separate, different.
He remembered what the Chief Elder had said: that his training would be alone and apart.
But his training had not yet begun and already, upon leaving the Auditorium, he felt the apartness.
Holding the folder she had given him, he made his way through the throng, looking for his family unit and for Asher.
People moved aside for him. They watched him. He thought he could hear whispers.
“Ash!” he called, spotting his friend near the rows of bicycles. “Ride back with me?” “Sure.”
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