Year 6 (First Draft) #Wattys2016

-Chapter 10-

  Everyone stops what they are doing, eating, talking, their focus directed at me.

  “Well,” I start awkwardly. “I didn’t start walking until I was three. But that wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t control that. I didn’t begin talking until I was four. They didn’t like my vocabulary either, so I didn’t even get to start school until Year 6. But that obviously never happened.”

  “Really? The girl who used the word liberated earlier used to have a bad vocabulary? No way,” Charlie jokes. Everyone looks at him like he knows some big secret about me. And maybe he does. Charlie is the only one I have actually talked to since I’ve gotten here, and he has only been here himself for about two hours, and maybe not even that. 

  “Yes,” I answer smoothly. “I wasn’t much when I was little. A frizzy-haired, wide-eyed freak that the Government decided to dispose of.” 

  I hear people murmuring agreements, everyone in this room having felt the way I did at one point. Were they lucky enough to make it to Year 12? Obviously they didn’t make it to Year 18. Unless they committed a Crime, they are safe after Year 18. No more scheduled Achievements. No more destroyed families.

  “What was the last thing your parents said?” Tom asks. “Do you remember?”

  I almost laugh at that. It would be impossible to forget.

  “My dad pulled me in for a hug, but it wasn’t the comforting kind that I was hoping for. He said ‘don’t ever look for us, you’ll just make it hard on all of us, maybe even hurt us in the long run. You already have. You’ve made it hard, and your poor mother hasn’t slept in weeks. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.’” How do I remember that talk, those last words from my father? Just like someone remembers every detail of something memorable in their life, I can’t help but remember the talk that disconnected me from my father. No matter how many times I’ve tried to forgive him, I can’t find any part of me willing to let go of the grudge I’ve held all these years.

  “That’s a stupid thing to say to a six year old,” Kane says, speaking for the first time since he asked for a volunteer to share their past.

  “I don’t think my dad was my biggest fan,” I admit. My dad had never been happy with me. From the minute I missed my first Year Achievement he treated me like a burden. No matter what I did, he never looked at me the same after that.

  “My pops wasn’t either,” A boy with a snake tattoo says. His tattoo is a deep, almost emerald green color and is a picture of a snake. I shiver, the tattoo looking menacing on his toned bicep.

  “You want to talk next?” Kane asks, shifting to look at the new speaker.

  “I guess, I mean why not?” The boy, who appears to be about sixteen, brushes a piece of curly brown hair out of his eyes.

  “Yeah,” Charlie yells. “I want to hear the story again Bradley!”

  “Oh shut up,” Bradley says, biting his lip. “It all started when I was five. The school officials found out I hadn’t learned my second language. I mean really, when am I going to need anything other than English?” Bradley scoffs. His whole demeanor is lighthearted, almost to the point where he seems to see his whole life as a joke.

  “Anyway, the Government took me to this big building and started my Abandonment process. I don’t remember much of it, though. I don’t have as good a memory as our Newbie over there,” He says pointing in my direction. “But I do remember one thing. My mom was seated in the back of the room crying. I never forgot that. It made me think maybe she would miss me.”