Unconventional

1

Pulling on her hair the red haired girl looked away, eyes squinting in the piercing light. When would the first day of school be her favourite again? Possibly never. High school was no ones hur-ahs of their life, for any teenager you would ask.

She sat alone most of the time, undiscovered and hidden in a world of her own, one most girls would dream about in fairytales. Though today was another day, yet unlike other days she was called upon.

"Ms Martin, is this too tedious for you to focus attention and write post-its?" She hated the way they talked, she hated the way they act. She hates everything about this place people call home.

Speak with a higher purpose Valerie, she reminded herself. So she sat up straight, arranged things on her desk perfectly to fit its engraved spots and looked up, faking a smile. "Nothing has caused me displeasure Mr Jenkins, please carry on." The words were sour on her mouth, and she found it highly exhausting to pretend to fit in.

She wouldn't fit in, she knew and everyone knew it, but she pretended to not know and pretended to be apart of this awkward society. Pulling away wouldn't help either, but how couldn't she? Everyone was the same and yet here she was, different.

The lesson carried on, Mr Jenkins talking in a monotone voice as he explained how a theory works. She continued to stare outside, watching a younger Class. The younglings have an outdoor class today, she thought, lucky. She watched as one of the small children tripped and fell, getting back up easily before continuing on with his Class.

There was a small, one knuckled knock on the white door. "Class Identification?"

"HS42" The voice spoke, the door opening by the hand of their teacher.

An older student stood at the door, his brown hair shaped perfectly to the side and a pile of folders in hand. Valerie stared as he walked in, nodded to the teacher and began handing out the reports that he had been holding.

As one of the last people her folder was placed hesitantly on her desk, the brown haired boy staring at her. "Open it when you are not in company." He whispered to her, dropping it and finishing his rounds.

The red haired girl picked up the folder, hands shaking in fear. Something's not right, why is my name in red? The words in her head turned over and over as she traced her own name.

Valerie looked around, eyes scanning the others folders. Everyone had their name in the front, but no one else in red. Most in blue or green, colours of true people in this society. She was just a copy, a messed up copy that shouldn't have been but was.

Her mind became a fogged mess as she stood and made her way to the door with the other students in her Class. She needed to lay down, she was feeling ill but if she told anyone, they wouldn't believe her. No one here got sick, not even a slight headache. They were made that way, but she wasn't.

Three chimes went off and students of different Classes exited their rooms. Everyone walked in a filed line, Class by Class as they made their way to their designated boxes with their belongings in them.

The folder burned her hand as she picked her bag up, shoving it in quickly before running off. Students watched her as she passed, red hair bouncing. A teacher was shouting at her to stop and walk, and she listened; she was already enough of a freak.

Students walked in front of her, blocking her path to wanting to get out of this hell whole. Groaning lowly she pushed pass, continuing ahead and turning for the direction of her living quarters.

At the end of the road was a cull-de-sac, where five different white houses waited for the children. Valerie's neighbours walked past, the youngest of the street stopping beside her. "Was your day to your liking?"

Amber Jones was a simple girl, always followed the rules and behaved, yet something in her eyes made her hand twitch as she spoke the words they were all taught.

"It was below my standards," her parents waited at the door for her. "If you'll excuse me." Her mother had the door ajar as she waited on the porch. Her father stood inside, holding her daily medication. Quickly Valerie rolled up her sleeve, exposing her upper arm. Slowly her father pushed the needle in, a pinch running against her skin as she bit her lip.

Her mother was the one to roll her sleeve down. "Now, dinner will arrive in two hours time, go replace your school clothes with house clothes."

Something stung in her as she made her way up the stairs, and when she looked in the mirror she saw the drop of red on her sleeve. Eyes wide she quickly changed into another shirt, fearing what this meant.

People in this society never bled, so what more could be wrong with Valerie Martin?

Her file was still in her bag.