The Understood and Understated

1 Part 1

*Lucy POV*
      Honestly, I don't believe it. All of that stuff they put in the history textbooks at school. They say that when the Understated still lived with us, there was more crime and pain and suffering. There's plenty of it as it is. My dad says the separation is supposed to be good, and it helps us, the Understood. But every time he says it, he gets this strange faraway look in his eyes. Like he knows something that is holding him back.

      My dad is the president of Fly, a company that makes tablets and computers and other things like that. He's rich. Filthy rich. Because of that, we live in a high rise penthouse. We have lots of good things. We never take it for granted-at least I don't-because we know our father built his success. He always says "I come from the depths of darkness", so he started out tough.

      My mom is the face of beauty in the city. Her workroom has makeup samples, face products, hair colors, and lotions galore. She is perfect for the job-she's beautiful. She has long wavy red hair and stunning green eyes. She has an olive complexion that's perfect for what she does. Some people at school make fun of her because she's not blonde, but I don't think that's justified. I think my mom is wonderful and beautiful.

     My brother, Logan, is a wild child. He is thirteen, almost fourteen. He plays Soccer and Hockey, and is great at both. He has wavy strawberry blonde hair, just like me. He has blue eyes. He's smart, too. Most Understood are supposed to smart. If you can't skip a grade at least in math and English, the government will hunt you down. According to our history textbooks.

    I am fourteen, and am taking AP Stats in ninth grade. I am a musician, not an athlete. I play the violin. I have friends and stuff, but I'm not all that popular. Most think I'm the snobby rich kid who lives for government regulations. There's more to me than that.

    My worst fear is that if I get married, and I have twins, I'd have to give away one at the hospital or the government would come after me. I have to live with caution. I can't get hurt, or get sick. I get three different vaccinations every month. I have to by a decent house when I grow up. I have to get a good job, live a good life, and everything like that. Because I'm an Understood. Just because that's what I'm expected to do.

        I know I shouldn't, but sometimes I envy the Understated. They live in cute little neighborhoods with yards and no fake turf. I see kids playing in yards, hanging out at parks, and teenagers skating down the streets. The streets here aren't nearly safe enough for that. There's tons of traffic, and muggers and pickpockets. They're covered with street vendors and fake homeless people who scatter at the first sign of government officials. Most are successful businessmen, so we use the 'see something say nothing' policy.

       Vaspernen is just one big city, split in two. There's the major government, then the Understood and Understated governments. The Understood government functions as a mix of monarchy and democracy. Most leaders are elected, and some are picked by how much money they have by the previous people who filled the positions. My dad was asked, but he refused. He says that the only good government is a full democracy and government should not be chosen by success.

      The Understood half of the city consists of skyscrapers, stores, restaurants, and factories. Vaspernen is an island, so we have white sand beaches with cute little ice cream shops and surf shops. Ocean Street wraps our side of the island, until it ends in chain link fences with barbed wire and gates. I like our half of the city, but it can be depressing seeing how many people get thrown into Understated because of things out of their control. Like disease or illness.

     I got sick once, when I was in preschool. My mom cried while she put me in the back bedroom with Logan. When the daily government checkers came to the door, she said we were away, at our grandmother's. I remember watching as she grabbed a dusty container out of the back of the bathroom closet. It was filled with little bags of pills with writing in them. She gave me a pill, and never spoke of it again. She loves me too much. The Understood officials wouldn't hesitate to throw a three year old out on the streets. They're just following orders, right?