Tiers of Love

chapter 2

"Claire make sure you make your bed before you leave," my mother says with a warning smile.

"I already did Mom," I slip out of the barstool I had been previously stationed on while eating my breakfast, "Ill be home later tonight."

"Where are you going anyways," her voice is inquisitive.

"just out to study with a few friends," I say quicky walking to the door before she can ask anymore questions. Before I walk out I grab my coat from the rack and fold it over my arm, carrying it with me as I exit the loft.

As I near the front doors of my complex I slip my coat on, the winter air is freezing, despite there being not a single snowflake in sight.

Let me explain, Cahntric is a country made up of tiers. Each tier is known for the production and dispersion of something vital to the needs of the rest of the country. For example; tier 8, my tier, is technologies and advancements. The people in our city control and produce all electronic products spread around Cahntric. Being one of the most technologically vast tiers has its advantages, such as having one of the shiniest cities out of all eleven tiers.

     But along with this lifestyle comes rules. The tier you are born in is the tier you will take on yourself when you're of legal age. The only way to switch tiers is by marriage, but it's very uncommon for people have a tier raise legalized. So marrying someone lower than you is a big sacrifice, and often causes overpopulation in the lower tiers.

     You're allowed to go to most any tier you would like to visit, the only rule being, any tier under the ranking of 5 can't go higher without a guest or work pass.Everything is indoors, and computer generated, and no one EVER goes outside.

     As I stand on the sleek cement outside my building I try to hail a cab, which is basically impossible on a Saturday afternoon.

     Finally a driver pulls to the side with his window down. "Where to," he yells.

     "The conveyor please," I say back to him over the loud city traffic.

     "Alright well, hop in won't ya?"

     I open the door and slide into the warm seats of the bright yellow vehicle. The inside is kept well, unlike the man himself. "Where are you from," I try to make small talk.

     "Tier 3, I came to be a cab driver through a rehabilitation program," he has a toothpick in his mouth and slurs his words slightly when he talks.

     "And do you like it?"

     "Love it, 6 years on the job and I'm still not bored," he chuckles.

     I can't imagine the type of people he probably meets, traveling all over Cahntric with just a car. Sometimes other people's lives make mine seem so boring. I live in the same apartment, go to the same school, eat the same things every single day and sometimes it gets old.

     After a long, awkward, drive I arrive at the entrance to the conveyor. I bid my thanks to the driver as I close the door and walk to the entrance. I scan my card and enter the silver doors to the large room.

     The ride down seems longer than usual, but that's probably all my excitement. After the conveyer gets to tier 4 and I half run out of the doors.

     "Excuse me," I stop a lady in worn clothes, "Do you happen to know where Brookman hall is?"

"yes of course dear," she smiles, "just take this street to 7th and take a left, the plaza will be on your right after the market ends."

"Thank you so much," I yell as I start running down the streets. I've never done something like this, but the thought of the green eyed boy waiting for me makes my stomach flip.

after a long 10 minutes of running I see the old sign marked 'Brookman hall' about a yard away. The plaza is bustling, and I start fixing my skirt and tights as I glance around, looking for him. As I walk farther into the crowd I look for the cinema. I straighten my sweater and jacket as I read the building signs, walking further into the mess of buildings.

Next to a large bookstore I see the cinema sign in old velvety looking letters. I push my way through the crowd gently and see a boy sitting on the bench next to the building in all black looking around happily. He turns towards me and I see the same blue eyes that convinced me to come here in the first place.

He stands up when he sees me and walks over. "Hey..." he pauses questioningly.

"Oh! I'm Claire," I smile, "And you are?"

"Ethan," he says shyly, tugging at the beanie covering his curls.

     "Well Ethan, should we get started," I smile at the excited look in his eyes.