The Emblem

When babies are born, the first thing doctors exclaim is not "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!" Those can be determined during pregnancy, after all. The first thing parents and medical staff celebrate when the precious child is born is, "It's Fire!" or "It's Air!" Any of the four elements might be proclaimed, and all of them have their place in the child's life as they grow. 

Those with Fire often become beacons of leadership, whereas those with Earth become earthshakers or purveyors of wisdom. Children with Air often bear the artistic responsibilities of society, and those with Water tend to be most versatile in their skills, jacks-of-all-trade, though masters of none. No parent cringed to hear their child proclaimed with any sign, for there was a place in society for every single one.

But one day, as the doctors cut the umbilical cord and flipped the baby onto its stomach in their hands, they froze, their faces stiffening into shock. Holding his valiant wife's hand, the father stared at the doctors and nurses intently, waiting for the news, praying that the girl was healthy. Without a word, the nurses wrapped the baby in a blanket and carried her out of the room to be cleaned, and one of the doctors moved to speak to the father and mother.

Before she could speak, the father asked, "I did not hear her cry. Is she stillborn?"

Dr. Marcus shook her head and said, "Joe--and Jo--your daughter has a… a new symbol on her back."

The mother grew even paler, tightening her grip on her husband's hand. "What mark?" she asked, fearing for her Josephine's future.

"It says…. Lies."

Joe and Jo exchanged horrified looks, unsure of what this could mean. No child had ever deviated from the four elements before. Their daughter would have no place in society, no place in life. The world should shun her!

Then Joe made a firm decision. "We must never tell anyone. We'll say she was Water. The symbol will fade soon and only reappear again when she turns sixteen, so no one else will know. She'll learn a skill, and even if she isn't proficient, that is acceptable for those with Water." Jo nodded, apprehensive.

As little Jojo grew, she knew her parents were hiding something from her. They insisted she had been born with Water on her back, but she could always tell they were lying. She could tell when anyone was lying. Friends, teachers, politicians--the moment they fibbed, somehow she knew. For the longest time, she feared they could all tell, as well, so she was very careful to always tell the truth as she grew.

On her sixteenth birthday, she excitedly jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Whatever her parents had been lying about would finally be revealed!

She turned and drew her shirt up, craning her neck over her shoulder. The symbol etched like a tattoo into her back was not red, or green, or blue, or gray. It was black. Black, spindly lines like spider webs crept across her back in sickly fashion, interwoven with the word LIES all along the undefined perimeter. She had seen what the other symbols looked like on her family and some older friends, and they were neat, orderly, perfectly spherical insignias. Hers was hideous!

Shaking, she ran out of the bathroom and pounded on her parents' bedroom door. "What am I!" she screeched. But then she remembered that her parents knew, and she loathed them for it. Before they could rush out of their room, she ran back to hers and locked the door. 

Jojo's mother tried to coax her out all morning long, but she wouldn't budge. She lamented her future, walking around with this hideous mark. All of her friends had texted her happy birthday and asked when her mark-revealing party would be, but how could she show them? What would she do in her life?

Then Jo left and Joe tapped quietly on Jojo's door. "You don't have to come out," he said, his voice muffled and low, "but just know that your mother and I love you. We spent your whole life trying to teach you useful skills so you could still do something with your life in the future. You're good at some things, baby girl. Hold onto that." With that, he left.

And Jojo knew he was telling the truth. She was good at something. She knew when people were lying.

If that was the skill granted to her by the mark, then that meant other people couldn't tell when she was lying. What kind of truths could she manipulate? What kind of lies could she unravel?

From then on, she practiced this skill, starting with her friends. They would be the first people she lied to--she couldn't bear to lie to her parents. She told them simply that she was feeling ill and wouldn't have a party, but that she had gotten Water. They all believed her. No one, not even her bluntest Earth friend Naomi, called her out.

The next several years were spent practicing this skill, though after a lifetime of honesty, she felt bad about it every time. She tried to focus more on the other half of her abilities, unraveling lies, and soon found herself quite adept at challenging liars in an unassuming way, getting them to admit to their falsity themselves. And she fell in love with courtroom shows. She always knew the real culprit.

So she decided to pursue the field of criminal justice. Normally Earth and Fire went into that field, so there was a lot of skepticism for a purported Water trying to enter. But she surpassed all tests and exams with flying colors, and she proved herself one of the best. People truly thought she was a Water, for she showed aptitude not just in one side of criminology, but in all sides of it. Detective, lawyer, judge, she could do it all once she passed the right exams.

Things changed when Jojo was almost sixty years old and thinking about retirement. She was reviewing a case about a Fire boy who was accused of murder. As she looked over the file, what stood out to her was not that he had been wrongfully accused--that was obvious the moment she read the word. 

What was most astonishing was that he was lying about being Fire.

Intrigued, she pursued the case immediately, and what she discovered shook her to her core. She managed to get him to admit his true symbol--it was Empathy.

I'm not the only one who is different, she thought.

From that moment on, she sought out the rest. If there were two, there were undoubtedly more, all of them hiding, terrified of being found out, feeling broken and ugly and alone. She was lucky to have had loving parents to believe in her, to help her believe in herself, when she was young. She intended to find every person who deviated from the supposed "normal" and believe in them all. To give them the most profound truth she had ever learned.

You are not alone.