Buzz

Chapter One

"My name is Hanna. My parent's are Polly and Wren Finch. My favorite color is beige."

Of course it's beige it's basically the only color we know. Even the outdoors are almost grey now because of all the big industries smog.

"My name is John," A boy says.

I zone out because I know they'll all be the same. They'll say their name and their parents name then respond with the generic beige color. I pick at the hem on my grey wool skirt. My mother almost locked me in my room for wearing it today because she said it wasn't regulation length. Every girl and boy in my grade must wear grey clothes from head to toe. A uniform of sorts.

I look around at all the girls in the room. They all wear a grey sweater, a grey pencil skirt, and grey flats. The only difference is that some of us have pushed the sleeves up on our sweaters because the room is stifling hot.

"Excuse me," someone says.

I ignore them and continue thinking about the unbearable heat.

"Excuse me," the voice says again.

They can't possibly be talking to me can they?

"Excuse me!" the say raising their voice.

When I still don't respond they repeat their words and give my arm a painful pinch.

"Ow. What was that for?" I ask quietly.

"It's your turn," the boy who sits next to me says.

"Oh, sorry," I say.

"It's fine," he says with a smile.

I turn back around to face the teacher. She gives me an encouraging smile thinking I'm nervous. I swallow and start to recite what I know so very well,

"My name is Issandra, and my parents' names are Neal and Poppy."

I take a deep breath prepared to say the same boring color everyone else has,

"My favorite color's red."

Mrs. Cauldron's eyes go wide and so do mine. I'm sure the rest of the classroom's have as well. I was not supposed to say red!

"Interesting choice," she finally says letting out some breath.

She looks at each and everyone of us as if daring us to question her.

"Now who's next?" she asks.

When no one makes a move she walks up to the girl who sits on the other side of me. She places her palms on her desk and leans in until her nose is mere centimeters from the girls.

"How about you?" she asks giving her a deceptive smile.

"Mary Margret, Ken and Barbie, beige," she recites.

"Good," Mrs. Cauldron says standing back upright.

She walks back to her podium at the front of the room her heels clicking on the beige tile.

"Very good," she mutters.

I'm puzzled as to how the seemingly benign teacher has switched personalities so fast. I shrug it off and turn my eyes to the next person in line pretending to be very interested in their bland answer. The last thing I need is a mark on my flawless record for saying on stupid word. I push up my glasses deciding it was just a fluke, a stupid slip-up in a sea of perfect. It would simply never happen again.

I notice Mrs. Cauldron's intelligent blue eyes never leave my face the whole class.

When the bell rings signaling the end of class I hurriedly put my things back inside my backpack and prepare myself to flee the classroom. I'm almost out the door when my biggest fear suddenly becomes true.