In a world of marching, where can you dance?

In a world of destruction, where can you create?

In a world of sobbing, where can you find music?

Why, in Artime, of course.

Noël sat in her parents' backyard, curled up against the fence with her arms wrapped around her knees and her toes dug into the crumbling earth of Quill. Nothing grew from the infertile soil, and anything that took root was soon wiped out by the heat or by a careless Quillan foot. But still she had tried. Tried to make something beautiful out of this hateful world. Tried to nurture and care for the tiny sprout that now lay torn from the ground in front of her. She stared at it, unable to believe that something she had fought for and painstakingly coaxed from the ground could be ended so swiftly. Over and over she saw her mother watching on disapprovingly as her father leaned down and wrapped his clumsy fist around the delicate shoot. Over and over she saw it ripped carelessly from the ground, dirt clinging to its torn roots. She saw her father throw it across the barren expanse, watched as it flopped limply to the ground. Her parents had scolded her, warned her with an infraction, but all Noël could think about was her precious rose laying there dying. Hours later, she hadn't moved. A tear crept down her face, carving a trail through the dusty grime that coated her face and eventually falling from her chin. It landed with a plink on the ground and slowly faded, sucked up by the thirsty earth. Noël laughed bitterly; she was watering the earth with her tears. Another laugh tore from her throat, again with no humor in it. It occurred to her that no one ever laughed in Quill. So she laughed again.

She laughed harder, forcing the happy sound out of her mouth and twisting it so that it was anything but happy. But still she was laughing, doing something no Quillan would do. It made her feel better. Somehow her laughter was striking back against her parents, the High Priest, the oppressiveness she felt every day of her life. And suddenly she was up, running for the back door of her house, her bare feet pounding the dusty ground. She didn't look back at her rose as she barged through the back door, because she feared if she hesitated now she might lose her nerve. It gave her a thrill to let the door slam back against the wall, and it made Noël laugh to push past her mother on her wild race down the hallway. She heard an angry shout behind her, but she didn't stop. She reached the front door and yanked it open, surprising her father who was just returning from the market. She shoved past him, sending the meager supply of food in his arms crashing to the ground, and took off down the walk. Her father gave an angry cry too, but like her mother Noël ignored it. The lopsided fence that surrounded their lawn loomed in front of her and the gate hung half-open, but pushing through the gate wouldn't be good enough. She had to do something wild, rebellious, so she vaulted over the fence and landed with a slight stumble on the other side. She laughed and took off running down the street. No one ever ran in Quill either.

She wasn't quite sure where she was going, but she knew it had to be somewhere public. Somewhere with lots of people to see what she was about to do. As she made for the more populated parts of Quill, the crowds became thicker and harder to navigate, but that didn't slow Noël. She pushed recklessly through the sea of bodies, earning a few choice words and shoves in return, but she forged on. And suddenly it hit her, the perfect spot. She changed course, ducking sideways into a narrow alley, and sped up now that no one was in her way. The alley was short and soon she was out in the open again, but the entire feel of the buildings around her had changed. She was in the Wanted part of town now. Here, the houses weren't quite so dilapidated and buckets of water sat on most of the doorsteps. Feeling like wreaking havoc, Noël flitted up the steps of one house and plunged her head into a bucket, taking long, thirsty gulps of water. When she was finished, she straightened and shoved the bucket over, spilling water down the front steps of the house. Wiping her mouth, she ran laughing down the street, spotting a few horrified looks from other Wanteds. She could practically hear their thoughts: 'Who is that filthy Necessary girl contaminating our water supply?'

"No-ël, No-ël," she sang, wanting them to know and hoping she was caught.

She ran for a few more blocks before she reached the main square, where the majority of the Wanteds gathered to talk, shop, and think about how important they were, how Wanted they were. In the center of the square sat a fountain, but no water bubbled from the top. Why should there, when water was so hard to come by anyway? The High Priest would be stupid to keep the fountain running and waste all that precious water. At least it could serve a purpose now. Noël darted through the mass of people and reached the fountain. A few Wanteds sat on its edge, but most of the people in the square stuck to the sides, where there was more shade and less sun beaming down on them. Noël leaped onto the hot bricks, startling a trio of Wanted boys, looking awfully sweaty and prissy in their crisp Quillitary uniforms. They flinched away from her, making Noël laugh, and they looked so shocked at the sound that she laughed again. And then she began to sing.

"March, march, speak not a sound.

Footsteps, sunlight, all around.

Well, listen here, to my new song.

It's called 'The Things That Quill Does Wrong'"

The entire square had stopped and fallen silent, but that didn't scare Noël. Honestly, they should be impressed. She'd made that up on the fly.

"March, march away from here.

Parents, don't you shed a tear.

They're Unwanted because of you.

But you won't miss them, ain't it true?"

Sloppy, she thought, but it didn't matter. She was singing, and that's what counted. She could see guards making their way from the edge of the square towards her, so she belted out another verse.

"March, march, into the pit.

Don't you worry, not a bit.

We won't feel a single sting.

Because we got the chance to sing.

Suddenly hands seized her arms and yanked her roughly off the edge of the fountain, and Noël went willingly. There was no point in resisting when all these people outweighed her by fifty pounds at least. The crowd of frozen Wanteds parted before them like she carried some disease, and she laughed out loud. Her voice echoed throughout the silent square, and she gave a mocking bow.

"Thank you, thank you so much," she laughed, nearly being pulled off her feet by the two guards as they hurried to get her out of the square. Her toe caught on a cobblestone and she stumbled, but she forced another laugh. Her next words, she sang: "Thank you for your time. I'll see you at the Purge."

And with that she was yanked forcefully out of the square, leaving a gaping hole of silence in her wake. She was marched down the street and down a sidestreet to get back to the Necessary part of town- March, march, Noël thought with a smirk. When they reached the familiar sagging buildings that were home, she expected to be released, but the two guards didn't loosen their grip on her arms. She wriggled uncomfortably, but that simply made them hang on tighter, and she winced at the slight pain. It seemed they were going to walk her home personally, probably to let her parents know the horrific thing she'd done. Noël laughed again. What was it with her and laughing today? It's like she'd pulled the plug on something and she couldn't stop it back up again.

"Calm down, I'm not going to run," she sang, but the guards ignored her.

"Where do you live?" the taller one snapped gruffly, and Noël ripped her arm free to point. After the Wanted sector, her house seemed pitiful and sad, with its unpainted fence and broken gate.

The taller guard nodded and burst in through the front gate, his lip curling in barely concealed disgust. The group marched up the front walk and the shorter guard raised a tense fist to pound on the door. The door rattled on its hinges and Noël heard something clatter to the floor inside. She could imagine what was running through her parents' heads. No one ever came to a Necessary house unless there was trouble or unless something amazing had happened. After a quick second footsteps approached the door and it swung open, Noël's mother peering around it. Noël gave a bright wave. Her mother's face went from cautious to horrified in two seconds flat, which Noël found impressive.

"What can I do for you?" she asked hoarsely, her face pale as she gazed at her daughter.

"Your daughter was caught singing in the Wanted square," the taller guard barked out, and Noël's mother paled further, if that was possible.

"Was she?" she choked out.

"Yes. I will be filing an infraction with the High Priest. Her name?"

"Her name is Noël Delaney," Noël quipped, but she was ignored. The taller guard stared pointedly at her mother.

"Noël Delaney," her mother said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The taller guard nodded and, as if on cue, the pair shoved Noël forward into her mother, who made no move to catch her. By the time she had recovered her balance, the guards had already strode down the walk and exited through the front gate, which now only hung on the top hinge. Noël flipped a jaunty salute at them and turned to face her mother, who was gazing at her with a look of blank horror.

"What were you thinking?" she whispered, but Noël didn't hang around to hear the answer. She shoved past her mother and fled for the stairs, taking them two at a time to reach her room, which was at the end of the hall. She burst in through the door, letting it bang against the wall before spinning around to slam it shut. The bang echoed throughout the entire house and Noël burst into tears.