Designer

Designer-Chapter 1

Designer

My toes stared up at me from the ground. Pink, with stubby white tips and jagged cuticles. The kind of toes that horrify me.

"Thelma, stop looking at your toes." my mother criticized me.

My hair was being swept up into a fancy bun, but pieces kept falling out and landing on my face. Gold bracelets adorned my wrists, and a pale sea green dress floated around my waist.

My toes were worrying me. I know they do a physical evaluation, and I was afraid that my toes would lower my marks. Not that the evaluater would look at my toes.

My mother finished pinning back all of my blond hair. "There, that looks pretty." she said.

I looked in the mirror. I did look pretty.

My face is angular and my nose is a bit straight, but in that warm yellow light, I look soft and pretty. I look malleable, but in a good way, as though someone could come over and with a few quick motions with their hands transform me from pretty to perfect.

My small sunset-pink lips formed a smile. I would be okay. I would score high, I had to.

Mother snatched at my arm.

"Thelm, hurry, or you'll be late!"

I quickly strapped on my white sandals then closed the white door of our house.

The stainless steel handle I was gripping was cool and filled me with calm. This handle had endured lots. It was covered in scratches and nicks and was losing it's shine, but it was still able to function, just like I would be able to function even if I scored low on the evaluation.

My hands were shaking as I walked with mother to the tram stop. I clasped them together tightly and walked.

My nerves were on overload. They were all buzzing and humming and drawing butterflies and knots into my stomach. I was nervous that my evaluation would go badly. All my senses were accute. I felt the slight chill of a breeze dancing across my legs, and the fading rays of sun tingling on my scalp. I noticed the beautiful clouds in the sky, glowing pink and navy blue. They were like strands of torn cotton candy. In third year, they allowed us to sample it. It became our sugar treat of the month. And it looked just like the clouds above me now did.

We arrived at the station, and mother herded me onto the tram.

I walked over to a group of empty seats, and Mother followed me. I pressed my finger against the scanner, and waited as it took in every detail of my fingerprint.

Mother was doing the same.

Suddenly, the bar on the seat was up. I quietly sat down. Next to me, mother did the same.

The tram was rather empty. But I saw three other girls in dresses. One in a light blue that matched her eyes, one with a green that matches our student's uniforms, and one in a plain white dress. I knew none of them.

The tram ride was silent. I hurridly got up and walked stiffly towards the doors. This was the hard part. The part I've been preparing for for the past year. I felt my heartbeat quickening, my breathing tumbling and ragged and reaching a chrechendo.

I knew I'm not ready.

Mother was shepherding me towards the doors. I managed a quick smile of thanks to her before dissapering into the waiting room behind the frosted glass doors.

A cool rush of air enveloped me as I made my way over to a grey chair.

Mother came and sat next to me.

I picked up a clipboard off the chair. On it is a huge stack of papers. They all are the same form. I started filling out mine. Thelma Goodman. 17. 358 Trent Avenue, Apartment 16.

A small woman with brown hair and a clipboard walks in. "Thelma Goodman?" she calls out. I can't remember whether to put down the clipboard or not. I take it with me.

We are walking down a white corridor. The doors are all stainless steel. The receptionist opened one and sent me inside.

A flutter of nerves flared up in the base of my stomach.

I kept my calm face on. I walked in and sat on a grey stackable chair. "Hello." I greeted. I gave a small smile. The woman in front of me smiled back. Her black hair was tied up in a tight knot that looked painful.

"Hello. What is your name?" she asked.

"I'm Thelma. Thelma Goodman."

"Well, go sit on that stool so I can take your picture." I walked over to a wooden stool which was in front of a blue backdrop. I sat down, my hands folded in my lap. I smiled, and a flash went off.

The picture was important. It would go on my new identification profile, and would also given to my future husband. After this evaluation, in two month's time, I would recieve my most compatible match. A month after that, we would have our first meeting. If the meeting went badly, we will be re-evaluated and given new husbands and wives.

I hoped that my first partner would be my only one.

I hopped off the stool. My evaluater motioned for me to go into a small changing stall hidden behind the dark backdrop.

I got into a hospitol gown, and walked out to be evaluated.

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