Excel

Chapter 1

"Class, please sit down. We have an important guest visiting in a few minutes," Our teacher, Mrs. Embers, instructs us. We all look up at her, confused. A visitor? We never have visitors. I feel a rush of excitement, and my heart skips a beat. Nothing interesting ever happens here.

I quickly run to my seat and sit down next to my friend, Oaks Rogerson, who is already sitting and talking with the girl on the other side, Sunday Youngersman.

"What do you think this is about?" I ask Oaks.

"Probably nothing special. Maybe the principal," He shrugs as he spins around in his chair to face me, "It's not like anything interesting happens here."

I laugh a little. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

Today is Monday, and we're all still in homeroom. The announcements just finished, so we all have to sit in our seats again anyway. Mrs. Embers didn't have to tell us, really. I scan the classroom, looking for something that will tell me what this strange visit is about. I'm a pretty good observer, and I've learned to piece together information to create a bigger picture. I've gotten pretty good at this because I absolutely love to write stories. When I'm writing, I create the pieces of the puzzle that have to be put together by the reader. It's like the opposite of a puzzle- the puzzle maker. And it's one hundred times better.

Mrs. Embers is dressed up, wearing her long blue-and white-striped dress that she only wore once before, on the first day of school. Her long, black hair falls loosely down her back instead of up in it's usual bun or ponytail. She's also wearing a lot of makeup- well, more than she usually wears. I'm relieved to see her familiar white-and-gold watch that she wears every day still around her wrist. This can't be too important if she's still wearing that old thing.

I look up at her face. Her usually sharp features seem duller and droopy. Her brown eyes are darker and seem to be filled with concern. She looks tense and worried as she stands beside her desk, looking out at all of us and twisting her watch around her wrist repeatedly.

Trick Hemming, my kind-of-boyfriend, meets my gaze as I scan the classroom. He sits in the middle of the first row, and I sit on the left side of the back row. The only reason we aren't dating is because I'm not allowed to date until high school, and we're only in seventh grade. We both like each other and he's asked me out twice, but for now we just have to be really good friends.

He stares at me questioningly, and I can tell he's wondering about the visitor that Mrs. Embers mentioned. I shrug a little and frown back. He runs a hand through his dark, spiky hair and turns to talk to his best friend, August Spright, who sits next to him.

Being the writer I am, a story plot pops into my head based on my situation. A girl who is forced to wait for news that will change her life and everyone knows but her, and it drives her to the point of insanity, and then she runs away. It's not much now, but it will be later. If I ever start it. I'll have to add it to my mental idea library.

I see every little action, every little circumstance, and every little word as a possibility. Not just as an amazing story plot, but as a chance to change the world. I've been writing creatively since I was in first grade. I have so many story plots that I end up writing twenty at once, and none of them get done. I've finished three thirty-chapter novels, but I have yet to get them published. No one wants to publish stories written by a seventh grader, however good they may be- and they are pretty good, if I do say so myself. It's just the world we live in. All about your "social status." Kids aren't taken seriously enough to get a status.

I guess I am a pretty good writer. My parents are always showing off my work to people, and they're always impressed. They've entered some of my short stories in contests, eight in total. I've received first in five of them, second in two, and third in one. I've won over three hundred dollars in total from these contests, and I've saved all of this money for college. Mom says I might not even have to use it for college, because I'll be getting so many scholarships. I try to keep my hopes down, that whatever happens happens, and it's ok if the whole writing thing doesn't work out. But I've always been kidding myself. Writing is my life, and I hope to end up making my living as an author. I want to finish and publish books for everyone to enjoy. I want to inspire others with my writing. I know I have extremely high hopes, but it's better to dream big than to not dream at all.

A knock on the closed wooden door sends a shiver down my spine.

"Everyone sit down and be quiet! Our guest is here and you all will be good representation of our school," Mrs. Embers says strongly, even though she looks absolutely terrified. Her skin is pale and she's wringing her hands over and over again. Her fear is rubbing off on the rest of us.

We all immediately stop talking as the mayor steps into the room. It immediately feels colder.

Mayor Samson Thins is pretty much the exact opposite of his name. He's a large, portly man with a greasy black cartoon-character mustache that is curly at the end. His hair is also black and sleeked back with gel. His face is old and wrinkly and he has scary, dark eyes like some kind of terrifying beast. He wears a black suit and carries a large, professional-looking black briefcase in his hand, which he promptly drops beside Mrs. Ember's desk with a thud.

"Hello students," He says in a monotone voice, not smiling at all. It makes me fear this ugly man even more. He would be a great book villain. Maybe I'll base a character off of him.

"As you may already know, President Frost is going to be making some changes to our great nation. He is going to start with the public schools. And, to make this as straightforward as possible, his first action will be Removing all of the specially gifted ones and-"

"You mean the stupid ones?" Pilot Greens interrupts him. Everyone snickers, and even I smile a little.

Despite the obvious importance of this visit, Pilot still finds a way to cheer us up and help us relax. He's always had that kind of ability, being the class comedian that he is. I'm happy that he's here now. His jokes make Mayor Not-Thins seem less scary. The Mayor and Mrs. Embers stare at him furiously, but he just laughs it off. I envy his ability to always be so calm.

"No. The exact opposite, really," The Mayor continues, trying to act as if Pilot's little outburst never happened. "The president feels that everyone should be equal, and to be equal, you cannot be jealous. Also, everyone should have the same all-around intellectual skill. There shouldn't be anyone with shining talents that separate them from the rest of society. There should be no prodigies. Just intellectual equality. My job, given to me directly by President Frost himself, is to take these prodigies away from this school, and others. There are many extremely talented young folks here. Their minds are inappropriate for this environment. We have been searching your school for these different students, who we call Excels, and have been instructed to Remove them as soon as possible for the sake of everyone at this school."

My heart stops. These people, these talented, different Excels, are going to be killed. What else could Remove mean? These young people are going to die just because they are more skilled than others. They are going to be killed just so the president can have equality.

"What kind of prodigies, sir?" Polite Lark Penbridge calls out, forgetting to raise her hand. If Lark forgot to raise her hand, that must mean she's extremely nervous. Lark is a straight-A student with nearly one hundred percent in every class, but even she can't figure out what's going on. But there's one thing I'm sure she's realized by now- She's going to be Removed.

She's smarter than most people I know, and most people in the entire grade. Her question is one that I'm sure has been in all of our minds. She's trying to find out if they're looking for people like her.

"There are many different talents young children like yourselves can have. Talents that would be dangerous to keep in a school building with normal children," Mayor Not-Thins continues in his monotone voice. I'm taken aback by his words. Dangerous? Normal? Is he saying that people with good grades are dangerous hooligans that need to be killed at a young age before they can grow up to become doctors and lawyers and change the world? Doesn't this man realize that we are America's future? We are his legacy, Mrs. Ember's legacy, the president's legacy... and they're just going to let the good ones, the ones that might grow up and change the world, die?

"To answer your question," The mayor says, slowly walking towards Lark's seat, "We will be Removing the exceptionally talented students, including musicians, athletes, writers, artists..."

I don't hear the rest of his words, but one stays with me, a weight latching itself onto my heart.

Writers.

A/N

This isn't one of my best stories but I decided to post it anyway. So far I have 8 chapters of it and I'll write and post more if people comment and like it. I want to know what people think so please let me know!