The Pretty Project

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Song -

Centuries - Fall Out Boy

American Idiot - Green Day

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I managed to convince my hair stylist out of the original pixie cut she was going to give me, an extremely short one, boyish even. Luckily, I got her to make it more..punkish. I think the best part about the Project is that everyone wants to be me, and they haven't even seen me yet. The auction is tonight, to determine which family I will be going to. Basically, the families bid on each of us, one by one. They will be teaching us everything we need to know, helping us carve our career, make our mark on the world. I'm actually quite excited to see which family wants me. They're all wealthy, obviously, but I plan on getting the best one there is.

In previous years they had a catalog, they would make it to look sort of like a toy catalog. They had the original model, or the Uglies, standing next to the new model, the Pretties. This seemed a tad too, how does one say, inhuman. After all, we are just like everyone else. We talk, we breathe, we walk. We are just better in every way. And that's why they tried to dehumanize us, but it didn't work. Or at least, that's what I was told.

A woman walks in with a rather attractive girl, the nurse that has been taking care of me. A man follows in behind them, looking vaguely familiar, but I push the thought away instantly. If he was part of my past I want nothing to do with him. They talk in hushed voices, but I can slightly make out what they're saying. The older woman, I am guessing the boss, says something about her being the one. The younger girl casts a sidelong glance at me and then shakes her head, as if disputing what the woman had just said. The man bites down on his lip as they continue to converse, and at this point I am fed up.

"Hello? Do not talk about me like I am not sitting right here," I say, surprised slightly by the strength of my voice. It seems like everything I do surprises me in some way, as if I would not normally be doing such things. I push the uneasy feeling away and focus on the people in front of me.

The woman's eyes study me, quizzial as she assesses me. I do not like the way her eyes roam my body, it does not feel right. Finally she walks toward me, her eyes forcing mine to stay connected to hers. "I've done a nice job on you," she says, hatred in her tone. I do not quite understand her tone, does she hate what she has done to my former self? Why? She has created a work of art. I am a work of art.

"Tell me, do you remember anything of your past?" the man asks, watching as I search through my thoughts. I see glimpses of faces, his among the mix. Panicking, I quickly shake my head. "How unfortunate. Looks as if you were wrong," he says to the woman.

"Just give her a few days, Xavier, trust me on this one." He nods and walks out as the girl attends to my monitors. "I'm Candace, your doctor. This is Cyan, she will be taking care of you while you are in the hospital." The girl gives a soft smile and continues to check my vitals. She is rather cute, blonde curly hair tied back in a messy bun, soft features, gorgeous blue-green eyes. I actually find myself speechless around her, my stomach fluttering, my heart racing. She's taken notice of my increased heart rate, blushing as she realizes what is causing it.

"What would you like to be called?" Candace asks, chewing on her lip as she has her pen poised, ready to write. What do I want to be called? I hadn't actually thought of it, I don't know the name I want. There are so many of them, it is hard to pick just one.

"What was my name before?" I ask, shocking her.

"Maddison Bo," she says softly, watching as I mull it over.

I wait a few seconds before giving her an answer. "I want to be called Maddison Bo," I say, watching surprise take hold of her features. Has nobody ever done this before? There had to be at least one other person who kept their birth name. Right?