Superior

Chapter 3

Picture of Caleb on the side!

Chapter Three

Caleb

If I were to use three words to describe myself, it would be these: I hate parties. If I'd had a choice, I would have spent my Friday nights at home on the couch with a bag of chips, playing video games or watching TV.

Unfortunately, I didn't really have a choice.

Every week, unless I was deathly ill or had lost a limb, I had to go to a party. My parents described it as "protocol." Every time I complained, they reminded me that I was a 10+ Popular, thank you very much, and would it kill me to act like it every once in a while? They sent me off to parties with Carlie, who made sure that we were always seen kissing or holding hands; little things like that, because they made people talk.

And the more people talked, the more Popular we got.

Although attending parties boosted ones Rank, it was only by a fraction of a percent. Gossip was where all the points were at. You got people to talk about you consistently and for an extended period of time, and boom—instant Popularity. The school monitored our text messages, emails, and phone calls; every time someone's name was mentioned, it was added to their Rank, no matter what it was. Which meant that whatever people were saying about you didn't have to be good.

I knew that in Carlie's case, most of it wasn't. She didn't make herself very easy to like, and most of her Popularity was gained from being trashed, not admired. As for myself, I had no idea. I could only hope that my case wasn't the same as hers.

"Hey, babe, why don't I go get us something to drink?” I murmured into Carlie's ear. I was sitting next to her on one of the leather couches in Stevie's living room, pretending to listen as she chattered to her friends about nothing in particular. She paused in mid-sentence and turned back to look at me, a mischievous smile on her pretty face.

"Yeah, sure," she whispered back, winking. I was relieved; it was usually harder to get away from her during parties. Leaving Carlie still talking, I eased my way through the crowd of people, who hurried aside as I passed. Some hollered out my name, others grinned hesitantly, and others still simply watched me walk by in reverent silence. I kept a generic smile on my face, giving an occasional nod, but my mind was elsewhere.

There were only a couple of weeks until the Superiors came, after all. It was all Carlie could talk about; hell, it was all anyone could talk about. This time of year was always ridiculously important, when even people who had no chance of being Chosen were clamoring to be noticed. It was a period of ultimate desperation among my peers, and I was right at the pinnacle of it all. I was the guy that would be going to the Capitol, and everyone knew it.

Plenty of people would have killed to be in my place. But me—well, I'd developed somewhat of an aversion to being Chosen. For whatever reason, the Superiors had always seemed suspicious to me, and I wasn't sure I liked their system. They were commonly described as being perfect, but I found it hard to trust anything so flawless. But time and time again, I chalked those feelings up to pointless paranoia; after all, if everyone else put so much faith into the government, what could possibly be wrong with it?

I sighed inwardly as the loud music vibrated through my head. It was times like these that made me wish I could just be a Loser. It seemed so much easier to keep your head down than hold it high, to blend into a crowd rather that stand out in it. There would be no need to worry about Rank or appearance if you were a Loser, and there would be no obligation whatsoever to go to parties.