Chapter 2 -
We walked back to the headquarter and instead of us finding thousands of girls in the hall, surprisingly, we found non.
“Where did they go,” Grace asked.
I raised my shoulder, “I don’t know.”
Suddenly she let go of my hand and with a gasp. Before I could ask what was wrong, she started to run down the hall. Confused, I chased after her. In the back of my head, I can hear our headmistress screaming in her pitched voice, “No running in the hall!”
It didn’t take long for me to catch up with Grace.
“Grace, why are we running?” I say not breathless at all.
“Did you forget,” she says with a raise of her eyebrows, “It’s Boys Visit Day?”
I immediately stopped. She didn’t stop running, but she grabbed me and dragged me to run with her.
“You're joking,” I say, releasing myself from her.
She shakes her head, “Angel, you have to go.”
I snorted and crossed my arms.
“Fine,” she says, giving up, “But the mistress will notice that you're missing.”
She took off on the corner and left. I roll my eyes to no one in particular and follow after her.
I stopped at the cafeteria door. The room was decorated with yellow, gold, and blue colors everywhere I look. I’m not complaining, since it was the color of our society flag, but I think they went a little bit overboard.
All the cafeteria chairs are set on each side of the room living in the middle open. To my shock, a red carpet was placed in the center. I shook my head at it. I guess I’m not late for the visit after all.
“Miss Angel,” a pitched voice says.
I turn around to find the headmistress staring up at me. I smiled down at her. She was wearing a green tight dress that fit her like a second skin.
“Good afternoon, Headmistress,” I say, attempting not to gag at her.
“Afternoon,” she replies.
She stares down at my black combat boots, ripped jeans, and up to my tucked shirt and frowns “Why aren’t you ready for the visit, dear?”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I say faking a pout.
“That’s too bad, dear,” she says with a raise of an eyebrow.
I nod my head, still faking my disappointment.
“Well, you better borrow one from one of the girls then,” she says.
She walks into the cafeteria nodding her head at everything. I stuck my tongue at her as she turned back, knowing it was childish. I turn to leave.
“And Miss Angel, if I remember correctly, today is your 16th birthday,” she says before I leave the room.
I turned deliberately knowing precisely what she is fixing to say. I glare at her not bothering to pretend to like her.
“Hope you have chosen wisely,” she grinned at me.
It looked fake, so I know it was forced.
“I don’t want to be offensive, but I’m not going to let myself be used as some sort of baby-making machine.”
She scowled at me and turned back to her “pretty”decorating.
“Some of us desire to bring more civilians to the world,” she says in an all-knowing tone.
I carefully restrain my rage as I feel it surging through my veins. I take a deep breath.
“Well, some of us know better,” I reply with more venom than I intended.
She turns around and glares at me.
“WATCH YOUR TONE,” she snarled.
I give her one last scowl and charge out of the room. Women like her are the ones I despise. I know humans are struggling due to the weapon that nearly eliminated every living being on the planet. But I also know we have been doing better. Ever since we began the Production Movement, humans had begun to populate the world. Now, society demands all women present themselves as machines.
“They are not taking me,” I sneered.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
