4522 {The Number Series}

1

I stared up at the rectangular fluorescent light, refusing to get up. Beyond my blue curtain of a wall, I could hear the others dressing in their uniforms. A monotone voice came over an intercom, like it had every morning for my entire life, counting down the minutes we had to dress and freshen up. I climbed quietly off my hard bed so the others would not know about my refusal to rise.

My room consisted of a simple blue curtain that covered half of my sleeping quarters that met with my neighbor's curtain to created my own living square. Two objects occupied the small area; a bed draped with a sheet with a single pillow and a wooden chair that held my morning clothes which had been placed neatly there the night before. To my left, I could see up to the ankles of the male next to me.

Number 4313.

I had not spoken to him since I had been moved in with the teens at the age of ten, three years earlier, but I knew his features well. He stood well above me with light brown skin, curly black hair, and hazel eyes. He was two years older than I. We did not have classes together.

I slipped off the white nightgown all the girls wore and put on my uniform, adjusting the white collar of my undershirt to lay perfectly against the navy sweater, before tucking both neatly into the gray skirt. I pulled uncomfortably at the dark tights as I shoved my feet into black flats. My feet were beginning to out grow them and I knew I would soon need a replacement pair.

My heart raced as I glanced to the left taking notice of 4313's gray pajama pants lying on the floor. I blushed as I pictured him in the room next to me. Interest in another was wrong.

The monotone voice announced that all children were to be standing in front of their curtains for clothing and room inspections in two minutes. Pulling my light brown hair into a ponytail like the other girls were required to, I stepped out of my room. To my left, number 4313 greeted me with his eyes like he so often did. It was a simple glance but I found myself wanting it every morning during inspection. It brought a certain comfort to know I was not the only one not standing ridged and staring straight ahead of me. An Officer came around slowly as she looked for anything that could possibly be out of place. The Officers were usually like that; overbearing and controlling.

One by one the woman with the short red hair patrolled down the hall. Her shoes clicked like a metronome, her black uniform instilled fear, her hands were clasped neatly behind her back. Her face held no expression. She passed 4313. She passed me. She stopped at 4807, the girl who had moved in with the other one hundred kids of the age of ten at the beginning of the year. They were the new children in the facility and I felt as though they were always scrutinized more. To find the outsider, the non-conformer, is the Officer's goal.

The Officer's chin lifted as she halted to a stop and faced the poor blonde girl with doe eyes and full lips.

"4807," her voice carried loudly, making us all flinch as we stood at attention. "Do you see what is wrong here?"

"N-no," she stuttered as she looked down at her clothes to make sure they were tucked in correctly. She touched her hair to make sure it was indeed in a ponytail with no hair falling out.

"Are you sure?" The woman smiled nastily. The officer was clearly excited at the thought of putting a child in her place. 4807 nodded, her eyes wide and unsure. The way we were treated between ten and twenty were completely different than when were five to nine. "I'm sorry, wrong answer."

The slap to 4807's face cracked like a whip. She held her cheek in her palm as tears flowed freely from her deep blue eyes.

"Your nightgown is not neatly folded and placed on your chair; it is on the floor. We do not have room for the lazy and forgetful." The woman boomed. "There are no failures! It is not an option."