Ok, I’m getting way ahead of myself here. Let me just backtrack and explain a bit.
Where we, Raileigh, me, and about 400 others live, is basically a government run dumping school called “Xenites Boarding College”. Fancy, huh?
We got all you’re unwanted here. Rich mummies whose kids have outgrown the ‘cute’ factor, kids adopted by movie and music stars when that was the ‘fashionable’ thing to do. Whatever, it makes me sick.
When you get left on the doorstep here, there’s no turning back. You’ve been abandoned for good, and no ‘parent’ ever bothers to try and get you back.
But they aren’t the only type of kids that get dumped in this place. Although the rich kids make up the majority, occasionally the executives decide that the colleges reputation needs a bit of a boost. So they decided to go out and ‘adopt’ some poor street kid. There were only about 40 street kids in the college, but you could always tell who they were.
The ‘Rich’ kids walked around like they owned the place, and thought they’re shit don’t stink. ‘Street’ kids were more inconspicuous, keeping out of the way, but holding their own when it came to confrontation.
Raileigh was one of the ‘rich kids’. I was one of the ‘street’ kids.
I had been brought up by Old Greg, who was, quite frankly, the living stereotype of a homeless man.
You know, short and stooped, with a long dirty hair and beard. Although he didn’t have a very imposing frame, he was one of the most awed and respected hobo’s in town, so it was a bit of an honour for him to take the time to teach me about life on the streets.
I was actually pretty lucky. I was little charmer, and the other street people liked my attitude, so I was basically looked after and protected everywhere I went. That didn’t stop me from learning how to survive on my own, as well being taught everything the others knew when they had the chance.
Anyway, here at the college, you got paired up and put into what they called ‘dorms’ but were basically apartments, with 2 separate bedrooms, a bathroom, lounge room and small kitchen. The whole set up was pretty good. Actually, most things about the college were pretty good; we had a fair amount of freedom, decent food and an education. I know what your thinking, ‘A teenager actually liking school?’ Well, no I don’t like school, its just that when you grow up being taught how to read by a bum, then you kinda learn to appreciate having the professionals there to teach you.
But there was one terrible catch to that seemingly perfect life, and that was Selection day. Every six months on Selection day, the big boss of all the Executives comes into the college with a list of everyone in the college on it. Two of those names will have a small tick besides them.
If your not chosen, then good for you. The only thing left to do is pray that those who are ‘chosen’ aren’t anyone you know very well.
Because once your selected, you’re shipped off to some remote or secure location and never seen by anyone at the college again.
There are some pretty wild rumours that go around about what happens after the Selection. My favourite is that the government gives the kids up as a kind of sacrifice to aliens who would otherwise try and take over the Earth. Pretty wild, I know, but it could quite possibly be true, because no one knows.
No one knows unless they’re Selected.
And no one, ever wants to be Selected.
Ever.
