Chapter 1
Placement day, the day every inhabitant of Ridmore dreaded; a day in which anyone who'd received their pink slips, regardless of age, was at risk.
Riley Carson had escaped eviction, as the residents liked to call it, for three years. Up until this point, she had been deemed too damaged for placement; however, a month ago, on her sixteenth birthday, she'd received her pink slip and now she faced the all too real risk that placement days posed.
Standing in the large viewing room, Riley pulled at the rolled neck of her top as she gazed blindly ahead of her, trying to look past the parade of people that slowly made their way along the opposite side of the glass partition. Each was dressed in their own way, some bright and colourful, others dark and bland, but still able to be who they wanted to be and wear what they wanted to wear.
Riley had once been just like them, a unique individual; but, Ridmore had eradicated any sense of individuality as soon as she had stepped through its huge doors and earned the title of rehabilitation child.
Before losing her parents, she had visited this very centre and wandered in front of the same glass partition that she now stood behind while her parents examined the lines of uniformed girls. Now, as then, they'd been ordered from shortest to tallest. At the time she'd paid little attention to any of them, never for a moment considering how they might feel.
Now, here she was, standing with them, wondering just what fate had in store for her. Would she be one of the lucky ones, who went to a good home with good people? Would she become a part of a nice family, either as their daughter or a well-treated servant? She could only hope.
It was a difficult situation. Her longing to be free of the centre was great, but there was no guarantee that a better life awaited her outside and so it seemed to her and many at the centre, that to remain was the best option. Here, at least, you knew your place; knew that, unless you broke the rules, you would be safe.
Everything in the centre was certain. There were strict schedules and rules, right down to the style of your hair, a highly unflattering crew cut, and the clothes you could wear:
• 2 roll neck cotton tops with chocolate brown, faux leather shoulder yokes
• 2 pairs of wide leg linen trousers with one sharp crease running down the front of each leg
• 2 pairs of white linen socks
• 1 pair of chocolate coloured, leather, flat soled shoes
• 2 sets of chocolate, cotton underwear that, depending on physical development, either came with knickers and vest or knickers and a basic bra.
These outfits came in three colour sets, which were used to indicate a girl's status at the centre. Most started out in black and Chocolate, the colours for those in rehabilitation, before progressing to white and chocolate, which signalled that you'd moved past any emotional distress or behaviour problems and were ready for placement. The third and final colour, which was an outfit made up completely of chocolate brown, marked you out as difficult, a lost cause, or as the centre put it impossible to rehabilitate. Anyone receiving their browns knew they were headed down into the bowels of the centre, a fate believed to be worse than death. Although very few wanted to earn their pink slips and make it into the white outfits, no one dared fight it, because the alternative didn't even bear thinking about.
So, Riley stood there, alongside all the other girls dressed in white, and prayed that she would either go unpicked or be one of the lucky ones chosen by a loving family; however, luck hadn't seemed to be working in her favour, since her parent's death.
