Chapter Three: Assembly

We all sit inside the school auditorium, which is an external building connected to the school. Knowing that the school holds about over 100,000 people, you should assume that the auditorium is freakin’ huge. Because it is.

I’ve only been in it a few times, for some assemblies and plays that I was forced to be in. My parents would come over backstage and pat me on the head while I smeared away the caked makeup on my face.

They organize us all by grade so of course, preschoolers and kindergarteners are in the front. The smaller and shorter one are in the front, of course. And it’s also so that teachers can keep an eye on them.

I look across the crowds of people, only in search of Demetrius. He’s the tallest in our grade, so spotting his can’t be that difficult; unless he’s sitting, then I’ll be having some fun. Just look for the coolest looking hair and then you got him. It’s not like it’s a lie. I’ve heard it go around our grade; Demetrius is the hottest thing out there apparently.

I can’t say I don’t see it, but I’m not like everyone else who has special feelings towards him.

Zigzagging through the black and white clothed people, I swear I spot him in his seat right in the middle of the audience, staring out in front of him. There’s a podium all the way in the front and a few people sit down. Speakers are shoved into the walls, as to look more professional or mysterious instead of having bulky black boxes sitting around everywhere.

I see the pulled back hair; dark brown and wavy. “Deme-” Someone’s leg catches on mine.

I’m expecting an impact but someone catches me by the arm, my body jerks and my face is inches from the mess of shoes and feet. Turning my head, I see that someone catches me before my fall.

“You alright?”

I blink twice. A nice sweep of jet-black hair. Sharp green eyes. There were also thick eyelashes for a guy. I have the feeling that I may have suddenly died, because my heart goes quiet and that I can’t breath.

“Uh... yes...” I’m speechless, why am I speechless? I should not be speechless. He pulls me up. “Um... Thank you,” I say then go to search for Demetrius.

Those were honestly pretty eyes. The color of my front lawn.

I only turn my head back to take another quick glance back, and he’s staring at me. I straighten out my skirt and continue on walking.

There’s something about him, I like it but at the same time the conscience’s making me uncomfortable about it. A warning sign.

He just saved me, what about that was dangerous? I look around, trying to remove a stupid idea from my head.

I reach Demetrius, sitting tall in his seat, he looks up at me and squints, one of the lights from the ceiling must be behind me.

He pats the cushioned down-folded chair.

“What just happened?” He asks before I even get to take a breath of relaxation. The fabric is cold against the back of my knees.

“Wha-”

He turns his head to me. “You don’t always fall, and if you do, I don’t recall you ever wanting help.”

I stare intently at the podium, looking at the fine detail on the emblem, our cities emblem that consists of a black symmetrical eagle holding a golden wreath in it’s talons. Peace and Strength.

My eyes hold onto the eagles.

Where is our strength? We must have some sort of military in our city, otherwise how are we supposed to protect ourselves from enemy attacks?

“I tripped, and I didn’t fall to the ground entirely. He grabbed me before I fell. So technically, I didn’t ask for any help.”

“You still accepted it.” He mutters.

“Jealous much?” I murmur.

“No. Just seeing how out of it you are today. I mean, first you act all perky, your food doesn’t seem poisoned, now you're getting swept off your feet by some random stranger.” He joins me by looking forward at the eagle. “Do you think it’s for Millet’s campaign?” he says barely audible.

I look over at him, the lights begin to dim, and his eyes look like they’re neon. “Well, ‘kids’ like to talk. So maybe he’s doing this for us to explain to our parents at the dinner table tonight about how amazing he is.”

He smiles.

A man comes up from his chair on the stage, I’m assuming some sort of Government Representative for the while. It takes me a moment to recognize who he is. Our Vice President who’s currently in place for our dead one now. Our old one became ill over some rare disease and it took his life. Now our new one’s got a few days left until he’s kicked from office.

I hope he’s enjoying his time before he gets bumped.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Demetrius tells me in my ear. “Just go through kids to get our parents to agree. But they should realize that over half of our school doesn’t really care for politics.”

I nod my head.

“Attention,” the Vice President says. “Ladies, Gentlemen, Students,” his voice is aged, but has a wise tone to it. “Today with us we have a man who will be running for the Presidential Seat, Alwin Millet. Please give him your undivided attention.”

Claps burst all around me. Demetrius and I remain silent. I don’t remember when any of us actually “joined the crowd.”

He heads back to his seat. at the same time a man rises from his. They both give each other a shake of the hand and continue their walk. The man walking towards the podium looks much too poised.

Millet’s hair is pulled back from his face, almost like Demetrius’, but it’s not like his. It’s blonde and you can see from the shine of the stage lights that it’s full of gel. It looks like he must have used a full bottle, because it looks really glossy.

I look to Demetrius, and his hair looks soft, I think he just uses water from the sink.

“Good afternoon everyone, I’m hoping you have a pleasant day.” His voice is loud and vivid, but it echoes with all the stereos, creating a cluster of waves that echo, making me dizzy.

“Many of you, may be too young to know who I am, and some of you just may not be interested in what I have to say. I’m fine with that. But hopefully, I can bring something to the table, to make you all hear my voice, and what I have to say to try to make your lives perfect, so that you may all prosper. And live your lives to the best of your ability you so that you may all thrive as a person, as an individual.

“If it’s alright with you all, I’d like to ask a few questions.” He clears his throat. “How many of you live in a small income household?”

Demetrius does. A good portion of people raise their hand, maybe some forty to sixty percent. Some don’t, like me. His hand doesn’t join the others though; it remains steady on his leg. I look around me, and down the row, I see the guy with the green eyes and his hand up. Honestly, he doesn’t look like he’s a broke kind of guy.

Millet nods his head, like he favors the number of people.

“How many of you live in medium or large income households?” He raises his head to look around.

The rest of us pull our hand up. Because there isn’t really much more than that. I keep mine down.

I fall back in my seat, hopefully this is all for fixing our economy or something.  But we’re doing fine. Actually, I can’t say that because I don’t keep an eye on the stocks and the market.

“I assume than those of you who live with a small income wish to be like those who do have money. Warm meals, a television, possibly even a gaming system to play with your friends.” He nods his head around to the people that sit in front of him. “I know what it’s like. To live in a family like that. It was difficult for one such as myself, the youngest out of five.”

I look down at the ground, where I can barely find my feet. Demetrius does have a TV, and food, and honestly a gaming system. But he’s just one person out of many, so I can’t go ahead and assume.

“How many of you have been bullied for money for school lunch?” This question remains rhetorical. “Those of you who do bully the kids for it, do you live in that poor home? Many of you who do have money probably are bullied for it, harassed for the money that other’s want. Honestly, I had done so in order to eat.

“I lived on the brink of town...” he begins a story that makes me zone out.

Since when are all bullies at school suddenly broke and live in small income homes? There’s surely much more reasoning than that.

This doesn’t sound like a campaign speech, more like a sympathy movement. Maybe that’s how politics works, you need to shove in enough emotion and empathy towards the audience to get them to support you.

I want to fall asleep, but it’d be rude if I did, and some teacher would bust me for it anyways, so I keep up with it. But I can’t keep focus on him rambling on and on.

“What I want to do, my goal in life, is to fix our Cities, Pacem, problems. To change what is making us suffer to what will make us thrive. We will blossom into people that other Cities want to be like, Fourier for example. While their way of life may be close to perfection, it’s not. I myself, will be able to create the perfection that we all are seeking.” I didn’t know I was seeking absolute perfection from my life.

A roar comes from the crowd, a cacophony of claps and hoots and whistling.

“Perfection, huh?” Demetrius mutters in my ear.

I nod my head, “Seems a little impossible doesn’t it?” The corners of his mouth rise.

I look back up at President Millet, and prepare to give him a good long stare, to see if I can find something in his eyes. But before my eyes really settle on him, he looks straight at me. I’m tempted to just keep staring at him to make him uncomfortable, but I look away.

This man has some high hopes. I chew on my bottom lip-- dry.

I sighed, I’m feeling sick already. I can’t tell if it’s the lunch talking or me sitting in a group of people or just the cold.

“Mr. Millet will be asking questions for any of you who have any,” The Vice President startles me, I didn’t realize they already traded places with the podium.

The pack of people I’m in all hurriedly stand up, like they can’t take it anymore. Neither can I.

“Now, wasn’t that fun.” Demetrius says behind me as I stand.

“Hm, yeah. Very engaging. I can’t even fathom over the fact that we might all be perfect.” I smile a smile that he can’t see. But he knows it’s there.

Before I reach the door that floods light and heat into the auditorium, someone grabs my arm. I remain hesitant, no one ever touches me, or should.

“Excuse me ma’am, Mr.Millet would like to speak with you, if that’s alright with you.” A man in a black suit holds onto my arm tightly, and the feeling in it become icy and numb. A little too strong for school kids. Someone hooks their foot around my ankle and pulls me down.

“Ah!” I fall forward. I jerk downwards then realize that I’m safe. A familiar arm’s around my waist.

“Don’t panic. Just act normal.” Demetrius barely says out of his mouth and into my ear. He pulls me back up, “Forgive me,” he acts like he doesn’t even know me.

The man in the suit still holds my arm. I look down at it, then back up at him, “Alright.” He pulls me out of the flood of people, and I wait next to him patiently, until little to no one is in the auditorium. When the door closes, all of the light goes away, pushing more cold air in.

He walks me to the stage. I want to ask him something, but I feel like if I say anything in an empty room, it’ll be too loud, so I remain quiet.

In the pit of my stomach, I know that I don’t feel safe. That something bad is going to happen. My Conscience is telling me to go and run, but I’d look suspicious.

From behind the curtain, Millet shows up, straightening his light grey suit and folding back his hair.

“Hello, ma’am.” He takes my hand almost immediately and kisses the back of my hand. I blink a few times, the palm of his hand is slick and now is mine-- hair gel. I nod my head, “Mr.Millet.” I pull my hands behind my back and slide my hand down the back furiously, trying to get it off of me.

“Please, Alwin will do fine. I mean, I’m not President,” he smiles. I look into his eyes, a jewel-green. Almost like the guy that caught me the first time. "I would like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind if I do.

I shake my head, "Go ahead." All I'm expecting him to do is ask me my own personal opinion.

"What do you, personally, think about equality? Perfectionism?"

I lick my lips. What I'm tempted to say to him is that equality is stupid as heck. But I can't say that, I'll need a reason to back it up. "Um, well, I think that it's not a bad idea." They're not the words that I want to come out of my mouth, but it's not like I can take them back now. "I mean, people want to have equality and fairness throughout the society." He nods his head to the words I say. "But... I think that if we do that, people will have no true personality. Or... attributes."

His head stops shaking. "So you're saying that equality, but not to the point where it will change people entirely."

I wait for a moment. "...Yes..."

"Hm," he rubs his chin with rough looking fingers. "Well, your input will be very helpful for me to route which direction I should go with this campaign." He rests his hand on my shoulder and stares me in the eye."Thank you."

Too much physical contact. I can feel goosebumps rising on my skin. There’s also the smell of the gel, which is now resting on my shoulder.

I look down, "Sure." His hand drops and I turn around walk down the stairs.

“Oh,” he says. My head turns, “I’d also like to know your name, if that’s alright with you.”

Don’t panic. “Seline Farwell,” I say too gently. D****t. I know I just gave myself away to a pedophile. I take a deep breath.

“Thank you, Seline.” He’s acting much too nice to me. And he said my name like he’s my best friend.

All I know is that I need to get out of here. Now. I close my eyes and try to relax my spiked up nerves. It’s the only way for me to get out of here.

When I walk out into the broad daylight, it's blinding for a moment, the settles the next.

“Hey,” I turn to look at Demetrius, resting against the wall. He walks close enough to me, “Why do you smell like hair gel?”

My chest and stomach feel sick, like it's suggesting to vomit. "Can you go and get my bag from English?"

“Why?”

“Just the school food. Salmonella never dies.” I say and get up.

He gives me the look of disbelief, but accepts my poor excuse. “Alright. I’ll see you after school.”

I nod my head to him, then cup my stomach and head towards the main lobby.

Inside the lobby, my eyes adjust once more. The walls are white, the floors white, the glass panels are thin but strong and everything is starting to dizzy me. Justs as I’m about to head toward the infirmary, I run into someone.. I shake it off for a moment and begin to apologize. "I'm..."

It's the same boy with the green eyes. He gives me a sincere look, “Are you alright?”

“Uh... Yeah, you know how it is. School food.” I shrug it off like it’s nothing but it's really something. The image of his swirls around me. First off, I’m blind as a bad, and second, I’ve been food poisoned. All that I need.

“Do you want me to take you to the nurse?”

My mind says “no, bug off,” but my mouth lets out something else.

“Sure.”

I’m almost halfway to the infirmary before I need to take a breather. I lean against the wall and place the back of my hand on my forehead--hot. My stomach's contracting and twisting into tight knots.

I don’t realize it, but he’s at my side. “Can you make it?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just not feeling well with the stomach bug and being in a cold auditorium.” I try to laugh it off, knowing damn well that I failed.

He leans in too close to me and places his hand on the small of my back. I’m immediately uncomfortable and continue my walk, his hand’s off of me. His hand is warm, and it feels weird against my cool back. It doesn’t belong.

He shouldn’t be touching me anyways, it’s too weird for strangers.

Down the hallway, I’m in search of the second home to me, the infirmary. Of course, when I walk in there’s someone on a bed, possibly dying of bad food.

Nurse McGee is nice, and she’s rather flexible when someone’s “sick.” Like how I feel right now. She’s in her early middle ages, but looks plenty young. Her hair is a hazelnut brown and is in soft curls every time I see her. I can tell that she curls it every morning. “Seline, how you doing?” Her accent is a bit southern, and it’s warm and sweet like thick honey.

“Another case of terrible food.” I sit down in a chair and rest my head in my hands.

“And who’s this?” She refers to the boy who came along with me.

“Oh, it’s Galven.” Sounds like he’s never been here. I’m a little surprised that he’s never been here before.

Must be one of the lucky kids here.

Nurse McGee kneels down in front of me and holds out her high tech thermometer. “Open.” I do as she says and fit it underneath my tongue. It takes a few seconds and it beeps in my mouth. “99.9.”

I look up at her glumly. “Do you want to go home, Hun?” She asks.

“Please.” I beg. She goes back to her desk and begins to tap down on her computer.

“You know, I think you just have a bad stomach,” she says. “I’m assuming that Demetrius is going to pick up your stuff?”

I nod. After a few more moments of awkward silence between us four (we can’t forget the sick one in bed) she tells me that it’s okay to leave.

I stand up, feel a quick rush in my head, then walk out of the room.

Before I leave the doorway, I turn around. “Galven.” He looks at me with his charming eyes. “... Thanks.” I think it’s the first time I’ve said it to someone besides Demetrius and my family.

He’s bound to spread the word that I actually said that to him.