My mother's hand smoothed out the wrinkles of my black cloak as she silently wrapped it around me. She was already wearing hers, though her hood covered her face. All I could see of her were a few loose strands of long, black hair. There were very few faces I had memorized, and my mother's was not one of them. 

To mark the beginning of fall, everyone in our tribe was to gather at the large auditorium to drink the juice. This act of unity was to help promote good health on the journey to the winter solstice. All the silenced people were to keep their hoods up while all the unsilenced children were required to leave them down. I never understood why, never found the courage to ask. 

Nine years old. Whenever someone asked me my age, I could hold almost all my fingers up. I was almost ten, almost an adult. That was pretty cool, right?

My parents walked on either side of me as the sun began to set. The fiddle player played his tunes by the entrance. They were soft and sweet, like the sound of rain dropping from leaves. I always looked forward to hearing his songs at the beginning of these ceremonies. He wasn't part of the leadership, no one knew his name. This wasn't his job, but had somehow become a tradition. He just played for the sake of it. His fiddle was his voice. 

His hood would need to be up during the ceremony, but for now, it was down. I always did like seeing his face. His hair was the color of the sunset, bright orange. It was messy, too. His face was overwhelmingly freckled, but it didn't look bad. He wasn't young, not anymore. He was likely close to the leader's age if I had to guess. His face was one I remembered.

I wonder what he used to sound like. 

I couldn't remember a single ceremony without him there. He'd always play, and he always will. His songs are one of life's consistencies. One of my favorites, too. There were a lot of consistencies in my life, but his music was special. It would consistently play before each ceremony, yet it felt almost inconsistent because of how much the music would vary. He's never played the same song twice. Surely someday he'd run out of notes and rhythms to explore, but that day has yet to come. He still somehow finds ways to play something new.

We followed in line with all the other families as he played a lighter, spring-like song. Everyone walked in our assigned order. Rylah and both her parents were in front of us and a family with two children I didn't know walked behind. I didn't need to know their names. In the end, names never matter. 

I only knew Rylah's because she was in my year. She and one other boy, Juday. 

Rylah's face was also one I remembered. Juday? Not as much. I knew he looked the way most of us did, dark, but I couldn't remember much else. Don't ask me if he has scars or quirks, don't ask me if his nose is big or small, I wouldn't know. 

I never did like not knowing. Ironic, considering I never knew anything anyway. 

Rylah, Juday, and I. All nine years old. Some people would assume that being in the same year would automatically make us friends, but in reality, it made us each other's competition. 

Every now and then, one child is chosen not to be silenced. This only happens for children who are seen as perfect, balanced, and worthy of stepping into a place of leadership. When that happens, someone from the leadership steps down and takes their silencing instead. Of course, it had been years since this happened. This special kind of event only occurs when everyone in the leadership agrees to it. The vote has to be unanimous. 

I've only seen the switching of leadership occur once in my short lifetime, five years ago. The Counter was just like me back then. Only, he could never be like me. He was special. The leadership determined that he was worthy of the position, so during what should have been his silencing ceremony, the former counter stepped forward and took off her yellow cloak. The yellow fabric and the position were passed onto him, as was her voice. I'll never forget the light in his eyes, the way he smiled. They bowed to one another, and she lay down in the bed of white roses instead of him. She gave up her vocal cords, and he gave up his former name to take on his new position. 

Hardly anyone remembers the old counter anymore, but that's what happens when someone retires from their position of power. They become irrelevant, just like everyone else.

I think The Leader was given her position close to twenty years ago. The Silencer was the only one never to be replaced.

That was always the goal. To be important enough to replace one of them. I didn't bother trying, though. Juday was in my age group, so in the unlikely chance that any one of us was chosen, it would be him. He was a try-hard, which I suppose wasn't a bad thing. I couldn't hate him for wanting to do his best for our tribe. Maybe I was just jealous, or perhaps I was upset that he was constantly overshadowing the two of us. He had something Rylah and I never could; hope.

My family and I filed into the auditorium. Most ceremonies were juice ceremonies like this one. Silencing only happened on the winter solstice. In the center of the auditorium sat a large pool of red liquid. The three leaders stood in front of it, silent and still. Each of them held one cup. The cup in The Counter's hand was bronze. That was the one unsilenced children like myself were to drink from. I was always glad that it was him holding this cup, it gave me a chance to be closer to him, even if just for a moment. 

The Silencer's cup was silver, meant for every member of our tribe who had already been silenced. My parents, Rylah's parents, the fiddle player, everyone. 

The Leader's golden cup was meant for the three of them. The people who were in charge of maintaining our perfectly balanced life between light and dark. 

Our tribe valued balance above all else. It was our group's goal to remain connected to nature. And, in nature, there was night and day. Neither was placed above the other. The silencing represented our willingness to sacrifice parts of ourselves to maintain that balance, but also served as a symbol. By silencing ourselves, we were giving up our right to question, we were making a statement that we trusted our leaders and nature to guide us. But the juice? I never fully understood why we had to drink it. I guess I didn't need to. All I had to do was trust the adults and follow their orders. Maybe that's what the juice was all about, us putting our trust in their hands.

We took our seats and waited for everyone to settle into their assigned places. My family was closer to the front than we ever had been before because of my age. The families with ten-year-olds, children who were about to be silenced, were seated in the first row. Since I was nine, my family was in the second row.

There was only one family with a ten-year-old kid this year. I didn't know her name, her face wasn't one I had memorized. I just recognized her by her short brown hair and sky-blue eyes. I didn't often see girls with such short hair. While I was growing my hair out, hers was in that neat buzz cut that Juday's was often in, which was odd because girls were never encouraged to get their hair done like that. Her hair was much longer during the last juicing ceremony, now that I think about it. Not as long as Rylah's, but I remembered how long brown curls used to fall past her shoulders. 

One thing I had picked up on over the years was that she liked to talk a lot. We were supposed to be silent during juice ceremonies, but year after year I could always hear her chatting away to her parents, who weren't able to respond. Both of them always remained silent and still, blankly staring forward. 

Sometimes I wondered if they could even hear her.

Her talking always made me nervous on her behalf. She never knew when to stop. Her voice was slightly deeper than most girls' voices. Especially now that she was getting older. She was different from most girls I had seen.

She was different from most people I had seen, actually. 

The leadership all dipped their cups into the pool of red, then held them up. Everyone in the audience, including myself, stood up. 

"To a peaceful and tranquil journey to the winter solstice and the next silencing," The Leader announced with a proud, steady tone. She always spoke slowly, annunciating so everyone could understand her. "Will the back row please step forward and drink from the juice to ensure a smooth, balanced road to our silencing ceremony?"

I didn't turn back to watch, but I could hear a shifting from rows behind me as people stood up and marched down to the juice cups. Everyone from the back row formed a single file line. This group of people were all adults who had no children yet, people who had already been silenced. Many of them were in year eleven, the new adults who were silenced just last year. They walked to The Silencer and each took a sip from the silver cup, bowing slightly afterward to show respect. They all looked exactly the same with their dark cloaks and hoods. Everyone walked in unison, their steps perfectly matching the person in front of them. When I was little, these ceremonies always scared me. I don't know why, it seems silly now since I've been to so many, but they did. 

I waited patiently until my row was called. I followed Rylah's family down to the leaders. My gaze was kept forward until it was my family's turn to step forward and drink the juice. I watched as my mother took a sip from the silver cup. Each member of The Leadership kept their hoods down because they weren't silenced, like me. The rules with the hoods always did confuse me, though, because they'd wear them during the silencing ceremony on the winter solstice. Who made the rules, anyway? Why did our hoods matter so much? I always wished I could have mine up, my ears would get cold easily. Especially in the fall and winter. 

The Counter kneeled down in front of me and held out the bronze cup. He was much taller than me, much taller than most people. He smiled, and I placed my hand over his where he was holding the cup. 

I allowed him to pour the liquid into my mouth. 

"Good, Shylo..." he quietly hummed, his voice as sweet and smooth as ever.

Good, Shylo. I did good. He thought I was good. 

I wished I could sit and listen to him forever. 

I immediately felt dizzy and slightly dazed as I followed my mother back to our seats. My head swirled and my throat burned, though I couldn't tell if it was from the juice or him. He was always the one to give the juice to us children. 

I had always hated the taste of the juice, but I never refused it. I could never refuse something given to me by The Counter. Was he proud of me? He said my name. Did he say everyone else's name too, or were his words just special for me? 

Sometimes I fantasized about being chosen as The Leader or The Silencer. I could talk and be near him for years if I was. Maybe he could learn to like the sound of my voice, too. Would someone with hair and eyes as light as his appreciate hair and eyes as dark as mine? He had freckles and dimples. I couldn't remember his name from before he was chosen as The Counter, but I always remembered his smile. Even when he was a normal boy, his smile was unforgettable. It was slightly different from the smile he usually wore now, but still bright and charming. Would he smile at me that way once again if I were to rise up to be at the same level of importance as him?

I walked back to my assigned place in the stands with my family and watched as the first row was called up. The ten-year-old girl walked between both her parents, though her steps weren't in unison with theirs. She bobbed her head side to side as she hummed to herself. I couldn't help but cringe slightly.

I watched her mother step up to The Silencer and drink the juice from the gauntlet. Her father did the same, stepping in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels. She smiled to herself slightly, and I felt confused. 

She almost looked excited to drink the juice. Perhaps she liked the taste. 

The Counter nodded and she stepped up to him. He kneeled down in front of her and held the cup up to her mouth. She allowed the red liquid to pour inside. 

Her cheeks puffed out slightly as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

He seemed to say something to her, and I felt a burning twinge of jealousy. Was he calling her good, too? 

She seemed to nod, and I felt my fists clench.

Then, she spit the red juice out at him.

My mouth fell open.

The leadership froze in place as she burst into a fit of loud, giggly laughter.

The Leader's shoulders tensed slightly as The Counter held the cup out to her again. "Drink," he stated harshly. I don't know if many could hear, his voice was pretty hushed. But I could, maybe because I was so close to the front. I was always good at listening.

The girl continued laughing as she snatched the cup from his grasp and poured the rest of the shiny red juice onto the ground. 

It slowly sept beneath into the dirt and dissapeared into the earth.

"Luella," The Leader hissed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it's just El," the girl corrected. 

She continued to smile and laugh to herself. I couldn't see what was so funny.

The Leader's entire body tensed as she marched over to the girl and grasped her chin, forcing her mouth open.

There was a soft gagging sound as the laughter immediately ceased. I glanced from side to side. Juday's face remained expressionless. Rylah was biting her lip, but aside from that she showed nothing. How was everyone else so calm?!

The Counter quickly refilled the bronze cup and poured the red liquid into the girl's mouth. Before she could spit it out, The Leader covered Luella's mouth and plugged her nose.

"If you want to breathe, you'll swallow," The Leader said. Her voice returned to its once quiet and slow state. 

I watched the ten-year-old girl fight against them, but it was a battle she was losing. Eventually, she swallowed the juice and gasped for air.

"Thank you, my museau," The Leader smiled. She stood up and placed a hand on Luella's back to help guide her back to her place. Luella's jaw seemed to tighten. She raised the back of her fist to the corner of her mouth and wiped some of the red liquid away. 

Once the young girl was on her way back to her assigned place, The Leader retook her place amongst the other leadership. 

The Counter started speaking, as he always did at the end of the juice ceremonies. Usually, I gave him my utmost attention, but I couldn't focus. Not because his voice was just slightly smoother and muddier than The Leader's, but because my attention was turned to the girl in front of me. 

She seemed to notice my eyes on her, even though she was facing away, because she turned to look back at me.

"My name isn't Luella," she stated quietly. "It's El."

I nodded, unsure why she was telling me this. It wasn't like we'd ever met before. Sure, I had seen her around, but we weren't in the same age group. Her face wasn't one of the ones I knew.

"It's El, and I'm not going to be silenced," she declared with a smile. 

I felt my body tense slightly.

"What?" I asked when suddenly I felt a harsh grip on my shoulder. I looked up to see my father, grasping me tightly. 

This was his way of shutting me up since he couldn't speak. 

I used to wonder what he would sound like if he could talk. I hardly even knew my parents. His face wasn't one I memorized either. I didn't even remember my own face. We weren't important, after all. We didn't have faces worth memorizing. 

"Sorry," she whispered. She lowered her voice so only I could hear. "You're Shylo, right?"

I briefly looked up at my dad to check and make sure he wasn't watching. Like everyone else, his focus was forward.

I turned my attention back down to the girl and nodded.

"Right. We should be friends," she smiled. 

"Friends?" I whispered back. 

I knew what the word was supposed to mean, but it was a concept that seemed very foreign. Sometimes I considered Rylah a friend, but then again, we weren't close. The only thing that connected us was our age and the fact that we were clearly less favored than Juday.

"Yes, friends," El repeated. "You seem cool."

I bit the inside of my cheek. 

What did that mean? How could I seem cool in her eyes? How could I seem like anything when I never did anything?

"We're not going to be silenced, Shylo," she repeated. She sounded determined, brave. I wasn't used to hearing this tone. "It's you and me, now. We won't be silenced."