"What are the three rules of being? Faid!"
"One: A child born Special is of two Special or two Limited set of parents. Two: A child born Original is of two Original or a Limited and an Original set of parents. Three: A child born Limited is of an Original and a Special set of parents," Faid recites in a clear voice.
"Soarel! Why aren't Special-Limited relationships mentioned in the Three Rules?" Mrs. Minn asks sharply.
"In the four hundredth year of Lucusia, the year in which the third generation of Limiteds and the fourth generation of specials, Limited-Special relationships were outlawed. Two years later, the Three Rules were written, excluding those relationships," Soarel answers, pausing only to yawn.
"Correct! Why were Special-Limited relationships outlawed?! Myste!"
I look up from my doodles, lost.
"Why were S-L relationships outlawed?" Phell relays.
"Special-Limited relationships often resulted in death. Other end results varied. Unknowns, Originals, Limiteds, Specials, Freaks, and Beasts were born of these relationships. This is another reason these relationships were not included in the Three Rules of Being. The death count was too high among participants of these relationships, so they were outlawed in 402."
"Correct!"
"We already know this, Mrs. Minn; why are you going over this again?" Faid asks.
"We learned this stuff in kindergarten!" Xaniir calls out. Mrs. Minn gives him the evil eye.
"Today we are starting Unit Five in Physical Science: Humanian Biology."
Someone snores obnoxiously loud. The class erupts in laughter. I grin slightly, but then realize who it probably is, and scowl.
"Xaniir, I hope you enjoy your weekly detentions and meetings with the principal, because obviously they are not facing their demise," Mrs. Minn says with cold cheerfullness.
"How kind of you to consider my emotions, Mrs. Minn. I am appalled," Xaniir replies.
Xaniir Collins: ninth grade Class Clown and the most known player in school. In third grade he had his hair dyed eggplant purple and in seventh grade he got a tongue peircing. He rides a skateboard everywhere, and he even used to ride through the school hallways before he got stuck with the school's behaviorist shrink. Xaniir acts like a ten year old and has the arrogance of a rich kid. He's a spoiled brat with two Special parents who are successful with stocks and their jewelery business. A lot of the girls in our grade swoon on a regular basis, even the decent ones. It's sad because all Xaniir ever does is goof off and hang with the other snotty rich kids who are full of themselves. I feel like a bad person just for knowing his name.
"Anyhow, as you all know, we are an evolved line of the genius Homo." At this giggles take over the class. I roll my eyes. "The most direct forespecies of this genius are the Homosapiens. We evolved because of the relocation to Lucusia. Our physical makeup is slightly diferent than that of Homosapiens. Despite only the slight difference, the resulting changes are drastic. One example of the differences is the fact that we use more of our brain in order to survive the harsh environment."
"Why don't people just cut down the trees?" Soarel asks lazily.
"That's how Earth died in the first place, idiot," Zekye snaps. I go back to my doodling.
"Xaniir, we do not-" The bell rings, signaling the end of ninth period.
"Bye, Minn!" Xaniir gives her a half-wave as he saunters out of the room with his friends. I stuff my drawings into my binder and speedwalk to tenth period.
"Hey, Myste!" Soarel calls down the hallway, his voice still thick with drowsiness. I glance over my shoulder at him questioningly, then proceed to bump into something.
Xaniir grins down at me, one corner of his mouth inching up further than the other. His sapphire eyes sparkle with mischeivious light. "Hi, Myste," he greets.
What does this moron want?
"Mm." I walk around him to get to the elevator. Xaniir frowns, following after me.
"Aww, you're not going to give me more of a response than that?"
Go die in a hole.
I step into the elevator, giving him a flat look.. "No."
I wonder what Soarel had to say to me...
The doors close, secluding me by myself. Thank god. The cheesy elevator music fills my ears as I look out the glass doors at the passing levels.
Twelfth grade level...
Eleventh grade Science level...
Eighth grade Math honors...
College courses...
Ninth grade English honors.
I stop the elevator, stepping out and continuing to my next class.
