The bell finally tolled, and the academic torture began anew. Being a new year, I was no longer blue and green. Nikolas smiled at me brightly and took my hand in his. His palm was slightly sweaty, but I hung on for dear life. We didn't want to lose each other in the sea of students. In my sector, sector fourteen, groups of young, academic geniuses were groomed for being whored out by the government. Mine was the most successful. Mine was the most rebellious. Nikolas, of course, was in it as well. He interlaced his fingers with mine, rubbing the side of my hand with his thumb. He was nervous. I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring fashion. We walked down the dark corridor, through the pushing and shoving,to our destination. The big doors with bright light leaking purposely out. They were attracting us like moths to a flame, but most knew the drill already. Headmaster Webber wanted a word with all the students, threatening them as the veins in his neck strained. The double doors at the end of the hallway opened, the light streaming in blinding. Again, we were herded in. There were seats, bleachers, white, plastic, uncomfortable rows of floating, step formation almost to the ceiling, but still low enough to see and hear, without hitting your head. They were the only place where it didn't matter what level, or what you were. The whole gymnasium was white, spotless, and there was an empty set of bleachers facing directly across. The whole area reeked of chlorine and sweat. I sat besides Nikolas, not too close to the top, him to my left, a quirky looking Blue on Red girl with a flirtatious smile flashed a quick, dazzling, interesting smile to Nikolas. She was beside him. A simple looking boy sat to my right. He grinned back, his eyes like I knew they would be, charming and flirty. Always like that with girls. Just not his almost-sister me. He was unusually confident, perhaps because she wasn't that intimidating. Not like higher-class, sector seventeen, whom were the most promising, next to mine, of course. They were still richer then mine, though. Big doe eyed, skirt hiked up too far, blouse too open for my comfort, sector seventeen offenders, however, were the real winners. "People," my great grandma had once told me, "are suckers for a pretty face ; fools to a genuine heart. You, my sweet, have both." Great grandmother was always right. I swallowed the tears I felt brimming in my eyes, thinking of my grandmother. Nikolas put a hand on my knee and squeezed it, comforting me easily. The girl looked away. Again, I'd scared off a possible courtship from a girl. Romanticism may have died, but that didn't stop the young fools believing that they were different. They were harmless until they began to love. Then they were forcibly separated. His hand immediately removed itself from my leg once the tears disappeared. He knew I didn't like being touched. The girl looked over again, encouraged by the no contact look on our faces. She began to brush his thigh with her hand when finally, the chatter stopped dead. The headmaster walked out stiffly. Even his iron gray hair was stiff and neat as a pin. His clothing was starched and crisp. Not a wrinkle, face or suit. His cold blue eyes signaled age, but his face had no sign of emotion, and it itself was smooth as my own. I found it unnatural. His jaw seemed to be wired, making him look eternally angry. A podium rose seemingly out of thin air, and he stepped up to it. He straightened his too-straight tie. (Honestly, I never understood the need to wear ties. They looked uncomfortable.) Silence. His gruff voice ruined it. "Welcome, students." He said, his voice making the silence quieter.
Ummmm.... This story is better than the majority of the fan fic section posts. It's better than the lame ass RPs that happen (Anyone with a creative bone in their body could see the people rping on here aren't very good). And yet, no one posts. Come on people.