Obscure, Ellie Anne [novels for students TXT] 📗

I was plain. Utterly, grossly plain. Nothing about me was special, even though I lived in a world where being plain was plus. I was even more plain than normal. Most people at least had something cool they could do that few others could, but not for me. Everything I could do, so could someone else. Everything that makes me who I am, is the bare essentials for everyone else. I was past normal. I didn't know who I was, or who I was going to be, like others.

I
    Was
            OBSCURE

I slung my my fireproof, waterproof, everything-proof bag over my shoulder, and trudged out of class. I slipped out the doors, and off campus, making my way to my car. This plain-Jane, however plain she was, still had a descent car. I had paid for it all by myself, worked on it by myself, and drove it by myself

. It was an old but restored 1950's Volks Wagon Type Two bus, or as I liked to call it, the sky-blue v-dub hippie van. I loved it. It was absolutely perfect, and fit my style, the little thing that it is, like a glove. I threw my bohemian shoulder bag onto the passenger seat, and climbed behind the wheel. I loved the good old sound of Jay-Jay starting up. She thrummed beautifully, and thundered down the road.

I turned down lonely street after lonely street, winding my way to my apartment. Everyone was out getting trained in their Ability. Everyone, that is to say, except me. Mine had failed to surface, even though I tried everything imaginable to get it to come forth. It never did, and it probably never will. I finally came to my apartment, the only on painted in a drab gray. Houses were painted according to the firstborn's Ability. Yellow was for the musical Abilities, blue for those that specialized in handcrafts, red for the artists, crisp white for doctors, and so on and so forth. Houses were only gray if the firstborn hadn't discovered their Ability yet. My family's was the only gray house in the seventeen-to-twenty sector. Each sector of houses was grouped by the age of the firstborn child. If your children had already left the nest, then you moved to The Village, and could do as you pleased. If you had no children yet, you lived in The District. Only those with children had such commanding guidelines. Our world was plain, everything, aside from Abilities, was nearly the same for everyone. We were all given the same wardrobe options, same food choices, same floor-plan choices. Same everything, except for Abilities. A person's Ability defined them.

I wasn't "defined". I had no Ability, no one thing I could do that not many others could. Nothing made me stand out. I shook my head, and parked my car. My parents were still at work, using their Ability for the good of our nation. The street was empty, everyone out honing their skills. I was in, trying to find my skill. I knew it wasn't going to happen. It bothered me, but I let it go a long time ago. I patted Jay Jay's hood, and went inside my dull house.

Everything on the inside was either black, white, or gray. Sure in other places it was "modern" and luxurious-looking, but to me, it was a statement of how utterly plain I was. I walked up the grand staircase, up the secondary staircase, and into my room. My parents let me have the third floor loft as my bedroom, it was private enough, considering the fact that they live on the first level. I dropped my bag on the floor, and went to the balcony, where I usually did my homework. There was supposed to be a public trial held in The Natural Court. The Natural Court was pretty much a big circle of benches around an elevated section with more throne like chairs in behind a large podium that faced a smaller podium, where the one being tried stood.

I could see The Natural Court from my little rocking chair on the balcony. I frowned. Sure I lived in a society all about helping each other, but it was seriously flawed. Those who tended to be different were tried and so very often towed off to prison for no good reason. Usually these were people who denied their Ability, refused to allow it to surface. Some people thought this was me, then they saw how awful I felt for being to beneath everyone. Still, my parents feared the Judges would not be so understanding. I watched as I saw people gather around the benches, impatiently waiting for the prisoner to be thrown before the Judges. I scowled and looked away.

These people were ridiculous! They so enjoyed seeing someone's life torn to bits by a few short words from some very unintelligent Judges. It was beyond me. I saw a boy with dark hair being pushed and shoved towards the Injustice Seat. From what I could see, he looked no older than seventeen. There was no way I was gonna let some seventeen year old dude get sent to prison. I walked down to Jay jay, fired her up, and left.

I
Would
Stop
THEM

I arrived at The Natural Court just as the Judges were taking their seats. I elbowed my way to the front. A few people grumbled, but I just glared at them, and kept on moving. I stood in the very front, close enough to see the boy's face. He looked pale, and shaken. Usually when the Judges caught someone actually guilty, they looked defiant, and, well, guilty. He looked petrified. I knew that I was gonna try my best to stop the Judges from sending him away.

I heard a child crying somewhere, and a mother trying to tell them it was okay.

"Don't let them take him away, Mamma!" I hear the kid shout.

I knew it was the family of the boy on trial. I shoved my way toward them. I saw a little boy with big tears streaming down his face, and a runny nose. I saw his mother trying to comfort him, even though her eyes were swimming with un-shed tears. I stepped closer, and asked the mother if she needed help. She glared at first, but after a few moments, she realized I was sympathetic, unlike the majority of the people there. She told the little boy to come to me, and ushered him over. He looked at me with huge, round eyes. He sniffles, and waddles slowly closer. I hold his chubby little hand, and rub his back. He hides his face in my shirt, and I hug him tight. I look up and see his mother clutching a man that I assume is her husband. I continue to comfort the little boy and whisper good things in his ear.

"Do you know James?" the little boy asked.

"No, I don't, but I'm sure he's nice." I answered.

"He's a good brother, but I don't know why they want him?" he sniffled.

I squeezed him. "I'm sure he's going to be fine."

The trial was out for break, a few minutes later, and the little boy ran back to his family. The boy in the Injustice Seat was allowed to see his immediate family, and took a few shaky steps to woman and the child. The mother caught me eye, and motioned that I should come over to her. I walked towards the group, feeling a bit awkward.

"Thank you, for watching little Benjamin. I didn't want him to see his mother break." she said, taking my hands in hers.

I smiled. "Don't worry about it, it was the least I could do."

"Come, you must meet my family, I'm sure they wouldn't mind." she said, pushing me towards the group of sad faces.

A man came up, and shook my hand, saying that I was one of very few that had even tried to help them. A few other people thanked me for watching Benjamin, and for just trying to offer comfort. I saw the boy. His eyes were wide with fear and unknowing. I stepped towards him.

"Are you James?" I ask.

He nods, his eyes sharpening, preparing for the worst.

I smiled at him. "Your little brother, Benjamin, tells me you're a good person."

"You know my little brother?" he asked, confused.

"I watched him a few minutes ago, while I assume your mom talked with someone I assume to be your dad." I replied.

"My parents are dead. It's just me and my little brother. Those were my neighbors-slash-guardians." he said, his voice cold.

"Oh," I said "Well, either way, I hope this trial goes your way. How old are you?"

"Seventeen and a half." he responded.

"Why are they trying you?" I asked.

"Why are you interrogating me?" he snapped.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I just, I don't agree with trying teenagers

. I think it's ridiculous."

He glowered some more, and shook his head. "Who are you anyway?"

"Abby McIntyre." I say, sticking my hand out. "Nice to meet you."

He wearily shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you, too."

One of the Judges slams his hammer on the podium, calling the court back to order. James throws me one last look, hugs a few people, then takes his position at the Injustice seat.

The
Sentence
Was
GIVEN