Numbered

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Kylie stared out of the window of the train. Although her grandmother hadn’t cried last night, Kylie knew she’d hurt her grandmother. It had been hard saying goodbye, knowing that she wasn’t going to return for months. The brightness of the sun reflected off the white surfaces in the cabin, and she was almost blinded. It seemed wrong that the sun was shining whilst it was such a horrible day for Kylie.

She smoothed her finger over the rough skin on her wrist where her number was branded. It was because of this number. She rubbed angrily at the skin, but she knew she couldn’t get rid of the mark. 

The landscape rushed past her as she stared out of the window. The green landscape of her town melted into the tall skyscrapers of the city. She had been into the city many times. Once she had managed to get a job there, at the market. But then the market had been closed, for some reason which nobody knew. But she had heard the rumours; the government couldn't stand to give any of the lower status Numbers a chance at a good life. 

Kylie knew what the government did. They took from the poor parts; stealing their produce, and giving it to 5s and 4s and sometimes, to 3s. Robin-hood in reverse.

She saw others on the train, Officials guarding people. People like her. At least I’m not the only low number on my train, she thought. Though I’m probably the lowest number here.

She found herself drifting off to sleep. The train track was smooth, and not bumpy like the ones that took you to the market back in her county. Probably because Five’s and Four’s travelled on it, and they only deserved the best. She wanted to dream of home but she couldn’t conjure the image up in her mind. Instead, she was dreaming about scrubbing floors and being kicked with the pointy high heel of a Topaz citizen.

When she woke, she turned in her seat to look out of the window. The train carriage shook a little before stopping, and suddenly she had arrived.

Kylie moved closer to the window, staring in awe and amazement at the twists and curves of metal that made up the capital. There was a grand display of architecture in Topaz, and Kylie couldn’t help but think about the money used for such projects - money that could have been spent on the poor in her area. One less diamond on that door-handle could’ve fed one of the worse off families in her area for a year.

She felt bitter. As an Official guided her out of the train and out into the sunlight, she felt out of place. Her uniform – grey and drab – looked even more out of place amidst the couture in Topaz. Feathered coats seemed to be all the rage, even though it was stiflingly hot outside. Although, Kylie thought, the clothes here probably had air conditioning built into their clothing. It was that ridiculous.

Kylie was marched down the street to an apartment building. CRANE HOUSE – a gilded sign announced proudly on the front of the silver-fronted building. The surface was like a mirror. It reflected sunlight, and when Kylie looked up at it she was almost blinded. When she appeared to be dallying along, the Official jerked her roughly. She saw citizens staring at her as she walked past. One muttered under his breath that “they” shouldn’t be allowed within the rich parts. Kylie felt very much the outsider here. She was right. Zero’s were rare in Topaz. She was surprised that the Officials had chosen to send her here of all places; surely the citizens she was being sent to would be sick to the stomach at the sight of a Zero in her house.

The Official led her inside the apartment building and she gasped aloud as soon as she had stepped through the revolving doors. A marble staircase, complete with a red plush carpet met her gaze. There was a mirror at the top, gilded around the edges, with an inset clock ticking away the time.

To her right was a lobby, filled with velvet couches with silver armrests. People sat at them, sipping cups of steaming brown liquid, and laughing animatedly amongst each-other. The women wore huge fur coats in different prints – some with spots, stripes, zigzags – and different colours. One woman’s coat trailed on the ground behind her, little animal heads attached to the train. Underneath were ridiculous looking dresses; ones that were slashed up the side, and ones that looked like tin-foil. They gleamed under the diamond chandeliers in the hotel. The men wore suits in a variety of colours – green, black, red, silver – with ties and bows and scarves on top.

When they saw her, they gaped. Some citizens turned away, as if embarrassed to see her in such a grand place. The Official told her to stand still, whilst he rifled through his briefcase. He pulled out a piece of paper, with numbers and an address scrawled on it in curly handwriting. Kylie saw the words Mr and Mrs Worth, and Servant.

After that, she was dragged up the staircase, and shoved into a small wooden-panelled room, with a mirror inset in each wall. There was nothing in the room, except for a metal panel stuck to the inside of the wall, with flashing numbers. The Official pressed the number 10. The doors slid shut and the room began to vibrate. Kylie looked questioningly at the Official who simply ignored her, looking calm as ever. Kylie grabbed onto the bars on the side of the room, but the Official slapped her hands away. He was probably worried about her ruining the gold, she thought disgustedly. After what seemed like an eternity, the shaking finally stopped, and the doors slid open again, revealing a long corridor. Lamps on the walls lit the way down the carpeted corridor.

They came to a door with the number 10, encrusted in diamonds, labelled on it. The Official raised her gloved hand, and knocked.

The door swung open and a woman stood there, in a coat similar to the ones the women had worn in the lobby. Her shiny blonde hair was sweeped back into a pile on her head. Her blue eyes were lined in black, and enhanced with heavy lashes with tiny diamonds at the end. She smiled at the Official, but when her gaze landed on Kylie, her smile faltered a little. Kylie did not smile.

“Introduce yourself,” the Official muttered, nudging Kylie.

“Kylie Fairs,” Kylie said. The woman held her hand out, and Kylie wondered what she wanted. Then she remembered something her mother told her; a weird habit the rich had, and she grabbed the woman’s hand and shook.

The woman smiled approvingly. “You may call me Madame Worth. You shall be addressed by the name Fairs, or occasionally, maid. You see, my husband has a trouble remembering things, so he may forget your name.”

She walked inside and Kylie followed. The apartment was huge. As Kylie had not seen any other doors, she thought that the Worths must have had a whole floor to herself.

“As you can see, we have the Penthouse suite. Only the best for the Worths,” Madame Worth announced, proudly. She waved her hand around the apartment. Kylie looked at the huge kitchen, with sparkling surfaces, and gleaming cupboards. She looked at the lounge, with huge red sofa’s and a TV screen the size of the wall. And she looked at the dining room, with the long glass table, already set with cutlery and plates. Back home, Kylie didn’t use knives or forks. And the plates were usually wooden – ones she’d traded for in the market.

Kylie couldn’t help thinking of what the woman had said. Only the best for the Worths. She was hardly the best servant for them – being a Zero. The lowest of the low.

The woman clapped her hands and a tall man entered the open-plan room. He was wearing a purple suit, trimmed with lilac silk. He had a thin moustache, and his hair fell carelessly over his eyebrows.

“Ah, the maid has arrived!” He said, his deep voice reverberating inside Kylie’s head.

“This is my husband. You may call him Mr-“ She started but she was cut off by the loud voice of her husband.

“Sir,” he said. “You may call me Sir.”

Kylie nodded quietly. She looked back at the door where the Official had stood a moment ago. The door was closed; the Official gone. The Official had been the only thing she had recognised in this strange place, and now she had nothing.

“Don’t look so scared,” the woman said. “Come along.”

Kylie followed her into the kitchen whilst Madam Worth pointed out instructions for her to follow. Clean the floors, the kitchen surfaces, wash the dishes, hoover the carpet, sort the larder.

Kylie had just been handed a box of cleaning supplies by Madame Worth, when the apartment door opened and a boy entered.

“Oh, my son,” Madame Worth trilled, rushing over. “Come and meet the maid.”

He had dark hair which was combed away from his face. His eyes were blue, like his mothers, and he was tall like his father’s. But he was good-looking in a natural way, unlike his parents.

Kylie locked eyes with him.

He held her gaze as he said, “Hi. My name’s Jared.”