Smile Lines (WIP)

Chapter 2: Working Class

I sat in the dorm room, the beanbag hugging the slim curve of my body as the fire roars in front of us. Next to me are my dormmates, the twins; Amy and Amelia, and Lily. Gentle chatter floats around the circle as we gaze toward the flashing tv, the character's mouths slightly out of sync with the audio.

"How about we see what's on the news?" Lily says from the shadows. I shrug, sipping my tea indifferently. Amy nods "Sure.". Lily fumbles with the remote and up flashes the picture perfect presenter, mid speech "The government is only going further to improve the infamous working class of this country, sending young optimists to Camp Dankwood, designed to leave their attendee's focused and willing to work." She says seriously. I shiver.

"How do they even know who's an optimist?" Amelia ponders. The news woman goes on, her gaze locking onto the camera "In every place of education or workplace, a government employed 'Smile Watcher' will be placed, waiting to catch out any optimists." She says. Lily gasps, sitting upright from where she was slouched "They cannot!" She cries. I shake my head in defeat.

"Thing is, they can." I mutter grimly "And I would be careful if I were you." I add. My day considerably dampened, I sigh and slip through the door into our sleeping quarters. I arrange my jewellery neatly on my battered bedside table and then settle on my bed, letting myself sink into the springy mattress, the duvet wrapping itself around me as I drift into troubled slumber.

The dawn light shafts through the thick, old-fashioned windows as I sit up, yawning. The room is sleepy, all three other girls having fallen asleep after me, now wrapped peacefully in a tangle of duvet. I blink, picking up my phone that has been charging on the bedside. The time flashes up eagerly; 6:23.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, sleepily making my bed, then stumbling toward the bathroom, my clothes under one arm. I turn on the light, blinking as the almsot surgical brightness overwhelms me. I turn the dial on the temperamental shower, making sure it's at the right temperature before slipping in.

Climbing out of the shower, I dry my deep brown hair, my fingers working nimbly as I tied it in it's signature braid, loose over my shoulder. I pull on my clothes, a pencil skirt, white blouse and navy blazer, complete with small hoop earrings and a clover necklace, staring back at myself in the mirror.

I tiptoe back across the room, picking up my black handbag and letting myself out. The embers glow in the cozy fireplace in the sitting room after last night, giving the small, round room a warm, fuzzy feeling to it, the beanbags and squashy armchairs vacated. I unlock the door, slipping out through the narrow corridor, which is cold and creaky in comparison as I hurry past the other rooms, the sounds of sleepy mumbles over alarms echoing out from through the walls.

As I ascend down the stairs and made my way across the dorm kitchen area, I head for the front door, slamming it behind me as I step out, the air crisp and cold around me, my still wet hair ice cold on my neck. I cross the dewy grass toward the main building of Greenhallow, entering the canteen.

I quickly ladle the plain porridge into my chipped China bowl, grabbing a spoon as I sit down. I open my messages as I absent mindedly eat, messages from my bestfriend flashing up:

Joel:

Did you hear about the new optimism watchers? X

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Violet:

Mm, I can't believe it. What time you down for breakfast?

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Joel:

Give me five mins x

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I put my phone down, a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach as I contemplate the recent news. You can feel the stifled atmosphere in the room, rage bubbling beneath each hushed conversation, while some sat in similar disbelief. The doors swung open and Joel entered, his curly, dark hair over his tanned face as his hazel eyes search for me. I raise a hand in greeting as he sank down next to me, defeated.

"I just don't get it." I whisper. "Why should we be imprisoned for something as simple as happiness?" He smiles sadly "It's awful, but it's more of a dictatorship these days. There's not a lot we can do without insider information." He mutters darkly. "Just hang on and stay safe."

I look up at him "As long as you do too." I whisper softly. The sharp bell interrupts the moment as I abruptly pull away from him, gathering my bags. "Have a good day, Vi." Joel tells me. I nod, on his shaven cheek "You too."

The room buzzes with gentle chatter as people arrange their stationary on their desks, waiting for our lecturer to arrive. I open my laptop, gently tapping in the passcode and opening my notes, sitting down in between May and Amy, whom has apparently finally risen from her bed. The door swings open, rebounding off the wall and slamming shut behind the stubble-headed, beefy build of Professor Horn.

The room immediately falls silent, yet he still feels the need to scream "Quiet, NOW." Before flopping into his spindly office chair, which creaks slightly beneath him as he furiously attacks the keys of his keyboard, the projection of his badly assembled power point flashing up on the worn white sheet hung behind his desk. I sigh, leaning over to May and whispering into her cherry red tresses "Someone didn't have their coffee this morning." I say, raising an eyebrow.

She nods, returning a raised brow, her head snapping back to the front of the class room as Professor Horn grunts. "Is something funny over there, ladies?" He snaps. I take a breath in, composing myself "Nothing at all, sir. Everything is absolutely grand." I say innocently. His furious gaze burns into mine, his brow pink and sweaty already "Well, shut up then, Byrne." He grumbles, turning back to his presentation.

"Today, we'll be looking deeper into this poem, and evaluating it." He drawls, as I try to retain my focus, writing scrawling notes in my tatty pink notebook, my faded highlighters enveloping each inked word in a warm embrace. As the bell cuts through the air with it's sharp trill, I snap my notebook closed maybe a little too eagerly, as Professor Horn's strangled shout barely rises above the chatter. "I want a 500 word essay on that by Thursday!" Groaning, I leave the lecture theatre.

____ AUTHORS NOTE _____

Heyhey!

This is kind of based off the book Happy Head by Josh Silver but also completely different, kind of like a twisted/warped version in my style. I'm open to any advice as this is a WIP <3