Numbers: Illegal Stories from the Forest

Chapter 1 ~ Still a Bastard

As I sat on the edge of my bed, I looked down at my swaying feet, sighing. The room I was in was painted a very light gray, like most of the school. The crisp white-sheeted bed I sat upon made little creaking noises with every movement of my legs. This was just one of those melancholy breaks in between classes where I had nothing better to do. The kids in the next dormitory took my sketch book, so I can't draw and I don't feel like reading today. I would just draw in my school notebooks, but I could get in serious trouble for that.

Falling backwards onto the bed, I threw my arms up in the air, bouncing a little. The ceiling fan was almost hypnotizing. That was also supposed to be white, but was more of a light gray like the rest of the school because it hadn't been cleaned in quite a while. I blew my teal bangs out of my face, just for the hairs to fall back into place. I could spend hours just looking at the fan and thinking, don't get me wrong, but I have classes in three minutes, so that's not exactly possible. I got up and looked in the mirror.

My hair was all messed up from rolling around on the bed. Combing it out of my face with my hands, I stared for a bit. My cheeks were still covered in freckles. I wouldn't mind it if they just disappeared one day. No one really liked freckles around here. I grabbed my reading glasses from the desk. They decided when I was ten that I was far sighted and that I needed these for class. I didn't really like them since you couldn't tell what color my eyes were them on. The hazel kind of complimented the teal in a way that I liked. Color coordination was always something that I was fond of.

Grabbing my rather heavy bag from the corner of my room, I headed off for class. The room was more of a cubicle than a dorm. It only had a bed, a fan, a mirror, and a table. Some rooms have windows, but mine doesn't. I really wish it did though. That was the only way everyone was able to get their own room. They were very paranoid about letting the students have too much 'contact'. They were scared that if they put girls and boys together that they would reproduce. On the other hand, it was also illegal to engage in non-heterosexual activities. Highly illegal. If the school allowed something of that manner to happen, it would come under fire. I still don't see what the big deal is, but we kind of have to obey the law. I never thought about doing anything like that with a guy, and I'm pretty sure the majority here feel the same, but the school is paranoid.

With my glasses perched on my head, I walked through the hallways, which were pretty calm. Most of the students, like myself, were obedient. Then you had the bullies and the other trouble makers. There are even rumors of there being prostitutes in the school going around. I can't confirm that, because I've never seen one, to the best of my knowledge, but there were certainly students that were less than rule-followers in here.

One of them was Tanaka and his gang. The fiery red-head approached me in the halls, looking down at me. He was only a year older than me, fourteen, but he had hit his growth spurt. I hadn't yet, so I was still pretty short. I looked up at him, this becoming rather routine by now.

"What's up, runt?" he growled, showing his teeth. Yes, it's cliche, but he wasn't the best when it came to opening insults. I kept quiet, looking away and attempting to get around him. "Where do you think you're going?" he questioned, blocking my path. I clutched my notebook to my chest, sighing internally. I was preparing myself.

Tanaka grabbed the collar of my dark blue blazer, which I have to wear for uniform, and besides a little flinching, I remained still and quiet.

"You got anything with you?" he grunted, trying to look me in the eye. I just stayed silent and looked away. I was briskly slapped across the face, causing the grip I had on my notebook to tighten. It hurt, of course, but I refused to whimper or show any sign of pain whatsoever. That wouldn't help me assert myself at all. "LOOK AT ME."