Choice of Numbers (Written at age 12)

Chapter 6: By the Toilet

The more I think about it I did see hints of rebellion in my father as a child. In fact he was the one who taught me to spray paint. I didn't realize this at the time, but when Lucas prepared meals for my family for after he left though it was a kind gesture he too rebelled.

I notice these things as I spray paint.

It's around 1:30 and I'm surprised yet glad to say that no one has caught me and the powerful smell of paint from the divider wall.

Though I've been trained in this sort of art I'm not good at it. The words in large letters as tall as I am spread across the bottom of the wall stretching a good distance.

I like to think that since her words are here, she's here, but I know that's not the case. In fact that's not even why I wrote them. It's do those who see these words understand that there are 9 other countries we could wander into if only we could choose. I want them to come away with me to a new place where you decide what happens next.

I step back to read the words and find another step in the darkness. It's not mine.

I start running as fast as I can in what direction I don't know. The footsteps follow behind me as if they echoed the thump of my feet hitting the ground.

Where should I go? If this person can keep up with me now they can definitely keep up with me on the 10 minute run home. They could find out where I live. The person could report me to them. Or maybe this is one of them.............

The person catches up to me. They pull me in close the voice of a man whispers into my ear.
"Don't mess with them."

I don't remember anything else.

******

There's a knock at my door.
"Hello?" I say in my creaky voice I use when I wake up.
"Come in"
The voice on the other side of the door answers.
"Miss, I can't come in the doors locked." Locked? There are no locks in the 3rd class houses. Unless.........
I open my eyes, I'm on the hard floor of the kybo, covered with leaves from the floor (people put them there to try to make the washroom smell better, but it doesn't work). There's a fly on my head and scratches all over my arms. I can feel a bruise on the back of my head. I stand up and open the door to find a man dressed in rare formal, white clothes and a black badge on his chest with the words "1-10 watcher" circling an eye.
"You've been in there quite a while Miss my I ask what you have been doing?"
What to say, what to say. "W-well I um.............didn't feel very well so I um came here but on the way I tripped and got bruised and cut."
"You do know there is no way to get sick with your meal choices." He says.
"Well I'm not sure if my water was boiled enough so." I reply.
"You should only be having your given meal." His face is blank but I know he's annoyed.
"Oh, sorry!" I say "A friend of mine said that in third class you have to have boiled water. Well I'll inform her that, don't want my friends getting sick too."

He suspects something.

He walks me home. The whole time he wears his dull blank face. Once I get inside I yank off my white shoes, get in bed, and try to sleep. It's 3:30 and the only time I've closed my eyes since yesterday was when I was unconscious next to the toilet. Well that's just great. Wait who put me by there anyway. Who was that man? Or ............ boy!

I know.

*******

I wake up to the sound of a siren. I immediately have a quick breakfast, get dressed, and put on my shoes. I race out the door to the centre building, which is where you go when the siren goes off. Everyone is heading in the same direction though they're paces are different. I run and easily catch up to the jogging boy ahead of me, It's Derek.
"What's going on?" I say, though I already know. "I'm not sure." He says grumpily. I slow down my run to a jog though I'm not legally allowed to, but compared to what I did last night this is nothing. He notices my change in pace.
"You sure you don't know anything?" I say.
The more I think about it I'm horrible at keeping quiet.
He smirks at me for a second, but as it disappears I recognize it as a smile.
Does he like me?
No way.
Never.

I think of ways to make him admit he knows, to make him admit he was there last night. How about Where were you last night? no, he' d obviously say something like in bed or taking a dump.

We reach the center building and I still haven't had any luck. The structure is tall and crafted out of the finest materials I've ever seen, placed in the best manner possible. Perfectly carved marble, rubies  in well placed creases, gold flakes in the pillars, and a large spruce door with word carved into the bottom reading One enters the cold expecting the return of warmth though possible it is not.

I ponder over the words and I realize finally that they are true to me.
I did something wrong expecting things to be right when I can no longer do something right.

And I'm actually........

kinda.........

glad.