Unimportant

New School As An Unimportant

I was born on an unimportant day, in an unimportant hospital, with an unimportant face. It's not surprising that I'm not important. I was a troubled kid, at least that's what everyone told me. I would cry over the smallest of things, apologizing constantly for everyone else's mistakes. I was angry and would often lash out at my parents in an effort for them to notice and appreciate me. I was ten when my mom left. Four years later, so did my dad, my unimportance would eventually cause everyone to leave me, he said. He handed me over to The Unimportant Girls School. They then enrolled me, gave me a dorm, and a schedule. The next day, I started classes. I knew I was different from the moment I opened my eyes. I wasn't super intelligent. I couldn't read minds, or fly. I had no ability to make me special like everyone else. When I was younger my parents took me to the child ability arena. They even spent money on a specialist to find out my ability. Everyone gets an ability when they're six. After my eighth birthday came around, they stopped trying everything, they fired the specialist, they stopped celebrating holidays and my birthday with me. They didn't take me out anymore, and sold most of my toys. They said that I owed them for not being special. The time came for school and I rose from my boring gray bed sheets, and looked around the gray walls to the gray carpet. The walls were bare of anything exciting or colorful. Just what I deserved for being born unimportant. I slip on my light gray and dark gray blouse and skirt. I ate some oatmeal and brushed my teeth. I thought about all the rules in the rule book I was given yesterday. I made a mental note of some of the most important rules. I looked down at myself and noted that I was wearing the uniform correctly and I wasn't wearing any colorful accessories, not that I owned any. My hair was tied into a top knot bun and not a hair was out of place. I didn't own makeup so I didn't have to worry about that rule. Walking over to the door, I put on my one-inch gray pumps and grab my school bag from my closet. I grab the door handle, take a deep breath, then open the door. Soon I reached my first class for the day and we will start off with attendance. The teacher, dressed in a black dress that went down to her calves, had a stern look to her as she started roll call. "Number 53442" A girl about my age stands up and raises her hand. "Here" She said in the most silky smooth voice to ever grace anyone's ears. The young girl sits down and the teacher continues with calling numbers. Two more numbers are called until I hear "53421", I look down at my badge on my blouse and realize that's me. I stand up and say here in the most monotone voice I could. It was easy to follow rules 223 and 224, don't smile and don't sound happy or excited. That was relatively easy since my name was stripped from me and replaced by a number. With a school this boring and gray, how could I smile or be happy. Roll call ended and the teacher finally introduced herself, "I am Ms. A. I will be your Homeroom and Math teacher." Her voice had no emotion to it but disgust and anger. "I assume all of you have read the rules of this school already. And if not, then get to it before you break one and need to be punished." She scans the room and grimaces as if she's grossed out just breathing the same air as us. "Let's begin the lesson today." She turns around and faces the chalkboard, "We're going to start off easy today with some trigonometry." She starts writing when all of a sudden someone yells from the back of the class. "You call that easy! We're fifteen, don't you think you should start off at the correct level!" Ms. A stops what she was writing and turns around and looks at the girl. "Number 5320, yelling is strictly prohibited along with that bracelet you're wearing. If you had read the rule book you would know that color anywhere on your person is not allowed." Ms. A sits in her chair and reaches her hand under her desk, immediately an alarm goes off and two muscular guards rush into the room. Ms. A points to the girl and the two men go over to her. Before they can reach her she tries to go around one heading for the door. The guard manages to trip her in time, she then falls down and slams her head against the back of the desk chair. The men go over and pick her up. They carry her unconscious body out of the room. A trail of red follows them out into the hallway.