‘3 years’, I think to myself, ‘just 3 more years until I age out. Then, I’ll be able to live far, far away from here.’

Another splat of spaghetti falls onto my head. I pull it out of my hair and throw it out. Now, with tomato sauce all over my curls, I cover my head with my binder and try my best to wiggle unnoticed out of the dining hall. It isn’t easy, mind you, as everyone else is looking for a vulnerable target.

Food fights don’t happen often in the Institution For Children, but when they do, it’s not a pretty sight. The walls and floor are littered with today’s dinner; spaghetti and meatballs.

I duck out of the dining hall, narrowly escaping a flying clump of tomato sauce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can you believe the audacity?” Sunniva remarks.

“I know,” I reply, combing my freshly washed hair, “and right before Seeing Day. The kids who started it don’t have a sliver of a chance to be Picked anymore.”

“Yeah, like any of us lower class kids ever had a chance.” She says sarcastically, “I think they just gave up and decided to have fun while they can.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I heard they’re being punished for it; they’re missing dinner for a month.”

“No dinner for a whole month!? But that means they’ll only eat breakfast! Tisha, they’ll starve!”

I’m about to agree with her, when Thirty-Two and her friends walk in.

“Yeah, serves those ungrateful brats right.” She retorts, flipping her hair, “They have to learn that food is something you can’t afford to throw around.” She pulls a meatball out of her friends hair and dumps it on Sunniva’s head.

“You know I hate Thirty-Two,” I say when she’s gone, “but she has a point. You can’t afford to throw food around these days” And I help Sunniva untangle her now saucy hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wake-up bell rings, as always, at 6 AM. The shrill sound floats through the halls, but I am already awake, reading the book I smuggled from the library. Sunniva stirs in the bunk above me.

“Get up, get up! You are to be dressed and looking your best! Be sure to be with your age group in the Main Hall at 6:15!” The supervisor’s voice rings loud and clear through the speakers.

And excited buzz slowly becomes louder as more girls wake up. Today is Seeing Day! Sunniva and I don’t join in. We’ve been here since the day we turned 6 months; we know we’re not getting chosen. The two little girls who currently sleep in the same cubicle as us, however, are excitedly getting dressed and brushing their hair.

After we pull on our white dresses, Sunniva and I braid each other’s hair. I glance at the clock; 6:11.

“Come on, we’ll be late!” I grab her arm and we rush into the crowded hall, full of girls making their way to the Main Hall.

Soon we’re joined by the boys; wearing white suits with hair slicked back. When we’re in the Main Hall, Sunniva and I find our age group; a clump of 30 or so 14 year olds. Compared to other age groups, (the 3 year olds taking the title of most children at over 230 kids) ours seems minuscule.

A boy called Tyler sticks his foot in front of mine, attempting to trip me. I’m surprised that he’s still trying; this has only ever worked the first time he did it when we were 4. I swiftly walk around his outstretched ankle, and narrowly miss bumping into Thirty-Two.

“Watch where you’re going,” she sneers, kicking my shin, “you could get hurt.”

‘Just 3 years,’ I think to myself, gritting my teeth and rubbing my leg, ‘there’s only 3 years left until I age out. I can wait that long.’

I glance at Thirty-Two. She’s such an idiot, the way she talks, the way she thinks, it’s all twisted. She thinks the Institution is a good thing. She even goes by the number-code. (The number-code is a system that is used to catalog all the children at the Institution; technically, they’re our legal names, but we all chose nicknames for ourselves, as being called ‘One-Thousand-Three-Hundred-And-Seventy-Eight’ doesn’t have the same appeal as being called ‘Sunniva’)

The supervisor walks through the Main Hall, and as she passes, the children line up against the wall.

“Remember!” Her voice rings and reverberates through the silent hall. “You will each be given an information card! You will each stand in numerical order! You will be on your best behavior! You will answer any questions about yourself, but if it in any way regards the Institution, you will redirect the question to an official! If you cause any trouble,” She grits her teeth as she stops in front of Tyler, “I will personally make sure you are NOT present at the next 3 Seeings. Do I make myself clear?” Her last sentence is met with a collective murmur of agreement.

“Very well. Unlock the doors!” The officials open the doors, and a flood of Potential Parents enter the hall.

For the whole day, I stand by the wall, smiling and holding up my information card.

Number 943

Birthdate: November 25, 2036

Gender: Female

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Brown

Height: 5 feet

Hours go by, Pontentials stop by and look at me, ask a couple questions, but none stay for more than 5 minutes. All of them quickly move on to the babies and toddlers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“10 o’clock is lights out!” The supervisor says as she locks the door to the girls dorm.

“You know Tisha, I think that one couple really liked you! You just might get Picked!”

Sunniva is just trying to make me feel better, but we both know she’s lying. We both know that there’s no hope for us to get Picked. I’m fine, though. I really am. And once more, the consoling thought runs through my head.

Only 3 years left.