DESTINY

CHAPTER SEVEN

 CHAPTER SEVEN

 "Seri?" Kitty whispers into my ear. I look at her with wide eyes. Feeling like a kid who walks into class that has a test that day and forgot to study for the it the night before, I start to tremble a little.

 "I don't know." I say. 

 "Ser-" Kitty stops talking and looks over my head at something- or someone. I turn my head around to see who it is. Behind our column is the Papillon Division, but who would she be looking at? Then, a face comes into view, but the face doesn't belong to that division. The guy's face is sullen, his eye a purple blue from where he was punched. Rick stares at Kitty and me, my body tensing at his rough gaze. All the wavering I was doing from being worried about not knowing which division I was going to commit to is gone. 

 "Don't look at him." I demand, my voice cracking. I tried to sound coarse so maybe she'd listen to me. Surprisingly enough, though, she looks away. We look out at the large room, at the other divisions and their occupants.

 "Just look at them and... picture yourself in their shoes. Remember who they are, like remember what they act like in public, and remember who you are. Then just see if you can picture yourself as one of them." I glance at Kitty out of the corner of my eye. We smile, and I thank her for what she said.

 Taking the help she gave me, I do what she said. I look around the room at all the other divisions and their occupants. My eyes land on Victorian Division, their strange clothing, hair, and their refined look of demeanor catching my attention. The boys wear everything from vests, waistcoats, ties to pretty much everything expected of them in the Old British life. Girls have their hair fixed up in buns on the tops of their heads, (though nothing similar to my bun, theirs are much bigger), shiny pins placed prettily around their hair, their dresses made of fine silk with pretty designs and colors. I remember how they acted at school, really any place I saw them. They all acted a little stuck- up, I thought. Walking with their nose in the air, only hanging out with one another with their British accents. 

 Next to Victorian Division, on their right, is Pandora Division. I don't like them at all, to be quite honest. They dress in either black or red, colors they think that show off their bravery. They always seem scary, mean like they would eat me for dinner just because they wanted to. No, I won't be a part of them. I don't even think I could shoot the arrow they have as their symbol, and they love using bows and arrows even more than guns. They love guns. Weird.

 On their right is Graceland Division. Strange, having them next to Pandora. Pandora is so mean and aggressive, while Graceland is so not. They love one another, which is good, but they love one another too much. They allow pretty much anything, as long as it keeps to their rules of keeping one another happy and satisfied. Embrace others! That's what I believe they would tell their kid's before they send them off to school. I can't embrace my own division, so how could I have open arms to strangers who may or may not have beliefs that are contradicting to mine?

 Then comes Colombian Division. I just don't trust them, quite frankly, and I don't like how they spend all their time in offices and meetings. Thinking of offices and meetings brings me to think of my dad. Why he didn't chose Colombian Division beats me. The government officials in Colombian Division, the ones that are in charge of all the rules, regulations, voting system and all those boring other things they do, are arid little monsters. They intimidate me, actually, and I could never in my life see Kitty Tagliano be a part of them. 

 To their right is Papillon Division, the one on the other side of the column Kitty pushed me against. Papillon Division occupants are sort of interesting to me. They are so free and careless about everything, but they still have room for caring for their land and nature surrounding them. They also cherish others feelings, much like Graceland. But they are kind of hippie like people, the children of their 'bohemean' ancestors. I guess, if I understand her feelings exactly, that Kitty could fit in there. She was always a sort of free spirited type when we would play with dolls, her girl always was a fairy or something of the like.