Too Bad For Her Own Good

day 1 : afternoon

He was serious. This was serious. A marriage law, things out of novels and far-fetched romance movies, was seriously happening. I'm sure all the other students in the class were shocked as well, seeing as the usual clatter of pencils against desks and slight murmur of chatter among the talkative was completely gone, dismissed almost instantly as we all allowed silence to reign while the news settled in.

We were to be married.

All 24 of us in this classroom, and all 600 kids in this high school.

Married.

I could feel my jaw unhinge from my mouth, sinking lower and lower as it approaches the top of my worn wooden desk. This couldn't be happening, could it? I feel my hands fist against the desk in anger, frustration. Being a girl, a woman, like myself who's glory days didn't consist of parties and lunchtime conversations surrounding my high school years, I was looking forward to the future. Like most women, I found myself dreaming of finding a husband. Someone unique to my tastes, a man of integrity but a boy of humor. Maybe we'd meet in a coffee shop where I sat writing, or maybe I'd trip and fall right into his strong and waiting arms.

I read to many novels.

But despite this fantasy -- this fantasy that for most, became a reality-- I wouldn't be able to live my idea of a perfect future. It was being stripped away from me in this seemingly silly, absurd new way.

"Class dismissed" I hear Mr. Aloe mutter, and I can't find it in my to move even a muscle. I haven't digested the information, something that I need to do in order to accept this hideous fate. Seeing as I've spent most of my life in control, a control freak you could say, I was taking this news to heart. Everyone was. Our futures, they were being decided for us. And as any stubborn and remotely sensible teenager would understand: this was completely absurd.

"Mr. Aloe, if I could please have a moment of your time" my voice is brisk and unquestioning, a sort of demanding air around it usually only used when discussing dinner choices, definitely not to my teachers.

"Of course Ms. Emerald" Mr. Aloe looks at me as he sighs, and I know he's been expecting more questions from me. Taking a look around before I continue, I notice although class was dismissed at least a minute ago, not a single soul has left this classroom.

"Why?" My question is simple, although the answer better be rigged with details beyond necessity. I am a woman, girl, of knowledge and of facts. Of proof. And I can't find any information in my crammed brain that could back such an outrageous claim.

Mr. Aloe stands up, not only addressing me but the whole class of students, some too wrapped up in their own thoughts to listen. "I suggest you all pay attention. Ms. Emerald asked a valid question regarding your future, and it would be beneficial to understand the law."

A few more heads pop up, but not all. I see Hunter, poor boy, hasn't even looked up from his desk. It's times like these where I feel a pang of self-embarrassment for being so interested in someone so unlike myself. They say opposites attract, but I'd say this may be the one exception. I'm curious, no, demanding of information. It's crucial. He could seem to care less. More emotional then logical. But I don't understand, not even remotely, how one could 'space out' at a time like this.

Mr. Aloe continues and his expression is almost, strained? As if he himself is having trouble passing the information through his skull, just like the rest of us.

"It's a way to completely determine population, although I can't recite the details now, quotas regarding children will need to be made." A few gasps are heard, but not from me. I only clench my hands tighter around the edge of the desk. This has to be some joke. Schools are getting more ballsy with their attempt to be, "cool". Maybe the principal read a Harry Styles fan fiction and thought it would be funny to play and practical joke on all of us.