Camren Oneshots & Imagines

Undesirable

I might turn this one into a book eventually, hence the cover above and the unexplained/unfinished aspects of it, but figured I'd just post it as a one shot for now.

Basically, so that you guys know what's going on, this is based in a world some time in the future where people are sorted into a certain 'colour' at a young age during a ceremony. The colour resembles what type of person their are destined to be, and determines what sort of life they will live, and is shown by that colour being inserted into their forehead (like a gem, usually with patterns around them, not removable).

Starting with the highest class, here is the order of the possible colours:

Silver - Majesty (highest level, most power, pure leaders, to be given the upmost respect at all times, incredibly rich)

Purple - Superior (second to Silver, they have similar traits but are more of a follower, and usually have more money than sense)

Gold - Votary (a mix between blue and purple, they usually work in religion, politics, etc)

Blue - Intelligent (higher-level jobs, such as doctors and philosophers, they have incredible ways of thinking and are behind much of the innovations made by the people of this time)

Grey - Force (strong, good at following/giving command. They work in the military/security)

Jade - Nurture (midwives, teachers, caring parents and, as you will see, runners of orphanages and shelters for the homeless)

Brown - Labourers (lowest 'acceptable' class, don't get much respect)

Ivory - Undesirable/useless, usually seen as 'simple folk', they often end up jobless and homeless as people don't show them any respect what so ever, even shelters won't let them in.
—

Camila's ceremony didn't hold the same suspense and excitement as her peers' and everyone else's. She knew she was to be in Ivory. The pallid colour was going to be etched into her forehead, and she knew it. She was certain that she wouldn't be adorned with any fanciful patterns, just a drop of disastrous pigment in the space between her brows and she'd be done. Sure, she prayed the whole night away beforehand that she'd be wrong, that she'd at least be a labourer, that the smudge might be browner (maybe then it might be easier to hide, what with her skin tone), but she had no such luck. Camila Cabello, daughter to a Grey father and a Jade mother, was officially useless.

Left an orphan at age thirteen, Camila was officially doomed, too. Nobody wants an Ivory child. They're undesirable. Why would they knowingly adopt one? No, Camila shall have to live in the orphanage until 18, when she'll simply become homeless, probably to die on the streets, alone, with nobody to care for her-

"Cabelo!" The harsh screech of her mispronounced name forced Camila's attention away from her memories and back onto the present.

She scrambles to the door and quickly opens it, stopping the old woman before she can shout again with that dreadful voice of hers.

"Clean the dishes." The woman snaps, "And don't leave spots this time!"

Camila nods quickly, not risking even a two-second return to her room to grab her headphones lest Mrs Aldridge, the owner of the orphanage, get angry. The woman is a Jade, though most of the children here are above her. She gets a kick from the authority over them, and despises Camila for being the only one to bring her orphanage's standard down.