Where life just isn't fair

Welcome to Tinpen Harbour, or Tinpen, as everyone calls it, where everyone will follow the same path in life; first, you get born. Then, you go to Kindergarten, Elementary School, Middle School and eventually, High School. At the end of High School, everyone takes the SCDT’s, the Standardised Class Division Tests.

This is where it gets exciting. This is the point in life where you can go two ways; either you pass the SCDT’s, or you don’t. If you pass, you’re one of the lucky ones, your life will matter. You will get to go to a good college, get a good job and live in a good section of town. If you don’t pass, you’ll still have two options: your overall grades were good, which means you won’t go to college, but you’ll still get a decent job. Janitor, secretary, construction worker. Servers of the people who passed. You’ll live in one of the other sections of town. If your grades weren’t that good, you’ll get send to one of our facilities out of town. A lot of people believe these facilities don’t exist, and the kids who get send there get killed to fight the overpopulation that is holding the world in it’s grip. This has not been proven, though. Yet.

Of course, people who passed will do anything to get their children to pass, too. They will send their kids to private schools, get them tutors, and even if the kids don’t pass the SCDT’s, they will pass. That’s the power of money. Meanwhile, people in my section have a two percent chance of passing.

So welcome to Tinpen, where life just isn’t fair.

My sister was 15 years older than me, so she took the SCDT’s when I was two years old. She didn’t pass. She got sent to a facility out of town. It broke my parents. They tried to hide it from me, but I saw it. Now, I can’t say they changed because of what happened, because I was two, I don’t even remember my sister, I don’t know what my parents were like before she left. But I can see it in the way they raised me, always so, so careful. Don’t get in trouble. Always study hard. Do everything it takes to pass that god damn test.

And so I did. I did everything I could to get good grades. I paid attention in class when my classmates talked and laughed. I made my homework while my friends played outside. I did extra assignments while the others didn’t even hand in the ones they had to do.

Now, I’m halfway through Senior year. Half way through the last year before the test. And my work paid of, I’m at the top of the class. But I also don’t have any friends. When I stayed up reading, they stayed up going to parties. ‘We’ve accepted the fact that we are part of the 98 percent that will fail. You should too.’ they said. But I wouldn’t.

Saying I don’t have any friends is a bit of an understatement. In reality, everyone hate my guts. So when I walked out of school today and saw a group of them blocking my way home, I turned and chose a different path.

The safest path home is the one that’s parallel to the border between my section, Tinpen 2, and one of the good sections, Tinpen 7. My classmates wouldn’t dare to come here. Being arrested is just an extra way to be send to the facilities. And you don’t need to be doing anything wrong to get arrested, either. Just looking like someone from 2 and coming close to a place like 7 could do it for you. But I still prefer taking this path over getting jumped by a group of disgruntled teenagers who’ve got it out for me.

I stayed at school to do some extra work, so when I start my walk, the sun is already starting to set. Luckily I’m close enough to Tinpen 7 to pick up on the light of their lampposts. A few people pass me, and even though I keep my eyes down at all times, I see them grabbing their bags just a bit tighter when I pass them. A friendly reminder that I belong to the bottom of society. Cheers.

I round the corner and stop in my tracks. Against the lamppost I see a boy, about my age. He’s sitting, leaning against the post and pressing his arms around his waist. ‘Hey!’ He looks up at the sound of my voice. His lip is split and one of his eyes is swollen. ‘Oh my god, are you okay?’ I sprint to him and toss my bag to the side. Franticly I scan his body. Blood is seeping out of a cut on his stomach, which explains why he was grabbing it so tightly. ‘Hey, are you – what happened? Somebody help!’ I scream. The boy grunts. ‘Somebody help!’ I scream again. I press my hands against his hands, to try and stop the bleeding. A loud moan comes from the boy. ‘Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Help is coming! What’s your name?’ I whisper, already out of breath from the stress. My hand follows the rim of his pants. Once my fingers feel the hard plastic of his ID, I pull the elastic cord to my face to read. I wipe the blood off with my thumb. Harvey Davenport. Tinpen 7. Male. Seventeen years old.

I remove my hands from his waist and cup his face. His cheeks are white and feel cold. ‘Harvey?’ I whisper. His eyes are opened, but they keep rolling to the side. ‘Hey, Harvey, listen. Do you hear that?’ I hold a finger by my ear. ‘Do you hear the sirens? They’re coming, Harvey, it’s going to be okay, just hold on!’ His eyes roll to the side again and just the whites of his eye are visible. I tap his face. ‘Hey, no! Harvey, come back!’

Somebody pulls me away from the body. They toss me aside and approach they boy. Despite the force they used on me, they pick up the boy so carefully, it almost seems they are afraid of him. They lay him on a stretcher and move him to the ambulance. Just as fast as the situation unfolded, it ends. The people who had flocked around us slowly walk away, and before I know it I’m the only one left in the light of the lamppost.

I press a hand against my mouth to prevent myself from screaming. Tears stream down my face and a few ugly sobs escape the barrier my hand has formed. Slowly my breathing becomes steady again, and I remove my hand. I push my hair away from my face and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I put my head in my hands and take a deep breaths.

In, and out. Again. In, and out. Again. In, and out.

Then, like my body has switched to autopilot, I stand up and gather the things that flew out of my bag when I tossed it aside. I stuff it back and hang the strap on my shoulder. I start walking. I don’t stop when my neighbour grabs my shoulder and asks me what happened. I just shake her off. When I enter my house, I don’t respond to my parents asking me if everything’s okay. I walk up the stairs, into my room and turn around to lock the door. With the doorknob still in my hand I lean my head against the door. I close my eyes. In the dark of my eyelids I see way the blood quickly spread on Harvey’s shirt. I gasp and open my eyes.

That night I spend in the bathroom scrubbing my skin until it looks red and swollen. I cry until my eyes feel puffy and my tears run out.

The next day I wake up, get ready and leave for school like nothing happened. I don’t even notice I drifted away until the girl next to me pokes me between my ribs. I look up at her. She points at the door. In the doorway stands the head of the school. He smiles. ‘Maya, I asked if you could come with me, please.’ I stand up, walk towards the door and stop again. I look back at my desk. Do I take my stuff? I have never been called to the headmaster’s office before. He is still standing in the doorway and chuckles soft, but tries to disguise it as a cough when I look at him. ‘Take your stuff.’ I nod.

I follow him to his office, where he opens the door and signals for me to go in. I do. He closes the door behind me without coming in himself. Behind his desk are two officers. One of them stands up. ‘Maya Ortega?’ I nod. ‘I’m officer McCoy and this is officer Sanders. We have some questions for you about last night, if that is okay?’ I nod again and sit down in the chair she points at. ‘You found Harvey Davenport last night, didn’t you?’ I lay my hands on me legs. ‘I did, ma’am.’ The second officer scribbles something down on some paper. ‘Could you tell us what exactly happened, Maya?’ Last night’s events flash before my eyes. I cringe. ‘I was walking home from school, I stayed late. I saw a boy sitting against the lamppost. He was bleeding. I screamed for help.’ ‘Was there anyone else besides the two of you?’ I shake my head. ‘No, ma’am. Or, at least, I don’t think so. I didn’t really pay attention.’ The officer nods and smiles. After a few more simple questions she ends the conversation.‘Thank you, Maya. There is a car waiting for you outside. It will take you to the hospital. You will hear from us if we have any further questions.’

They stand up. ‘Ma’am? Why would I be going to the hospital?’ I wonder aloud. The officer smiles again. ‘Harvey asked to see you, Maya. He must want to thank the girl that saved his life.’ she opens the door and lets the other officer out. Then she looks at me. I quickly grab my bag.

Outside my school there is indeed a car. A group of students is gathered around it, marvelling at the car. It’s probably the most expensive thing they have ever seen. The driver leans against the car, clearly annoyed with the crowd. When he sees me he quickly straightens his back. ‘Miss Ortega?’ he asks me. I nod. He opens the door and signals for me to get it. So I do. The inside of the car smells like expensive leather. A radio is softly playing. I slowly pet the seat. I have never felt anything like it before. ‘It will take about twenty minutes, if you need anything, just let me know, Miss.’ the driver announces. I simply nod and smile, to overwhelmed to say anything.

I have never been outside Tinpen 2. The most I have seen outside my section is the edge of Tinpen 7 when I walk home from school. The inside of Tinpen 7 is so different, though. The buildings are tall, much taller than any building back home. They stretch out into the sky and reflect the sunlight with their many, many windows. Everywhere I look I see electricity, which only some buildings have back in 2. When we arrive at the hospital I forget why I’m here. The building is absolutely stunning. It has two tall towers, with a bridge made of glass connecting the two. As we drive underneath the bridge, I see people walking from one building to the other. The two towers are made of glass, too. And suddenly a word pops into my mind. Castle. The best way to describe the building is castle.

The driver opens the door for me and I get out, clutching my bag. He points me to the entrance and tells me to just ask for Harvey, someone will get me to his room. So I walk in and repeat his instructions. A friendly nurse takes me to the fifteenth floor. ‘Second door on your right, darling.’

I put my hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath. Then, I open the door. I only catch a glimpse of Harvey before my sight gets blocked by a woman. ‘Oh, my dear! I cannot thank you enough for what you have done!’ she wraps her arms around me. ‘God knows what could have happened if you weren’t there.’ I pat her awkwardly on her shoulder. ‘I didn’t really do anything, Mrs Davenport.’ She lets go of me and looks me right in my eyes. ‘You saved Harvey’s life, Maya.’ I shake my head. ‘No, really, all I did was ask for someone to call an ambulance, I didn’t even call myself.’ Mrs Davenport opens her mouth again but a voice from behind her interrupts. ‘Mom, do you think I could take to Maya too or?’ I look past the woman to see Harvey laying in a hospital bed. ‘Hi Harvey.’ I say softly. I approach him and scan his body. His face is no longer pale, but has a nice pink sheen to it. His eyes seem to sparkle. He looks a lot better. ‘How you feeling?’ He grins. ‘Amazing, thanks to you.’ he sticks out his hand. ‘We never got to meet, officially. I’m Harvey.’ I smile and take his hand. ‘Maya.’

We talk all afternoon and slowly I realize I really like Harvey. He’s funny, and smart. And, come on, let’s be honest, really attractive. When it’s time to go, Mr Davenport takes me aside. ‘Listen, Maya, you must be really busy studying for the SCDT’s, aren’t you.’ I nod. ‘I am, sir. My sister didn’t pass, and I am doing everything I can to not repeat that, for my parents.’ I explain. He nods. ‘Well, to thank you for what you did for our son, we want to… increase your chances of passing the test.’ I stare at him. Did he just… offer to pay for me to pass? ‘I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure if I understand what you are saying.’ He taps with his foot on the tiles of the hallway. ‘The name Davenport means a lot to people. A bit of… pushing from our side would definitely help you.’

‘Are you offering to pay for me to pass the test?’ I ask bluntly. He looks around to see if anyone is listening to our conversation. ‘Yes, Maya, I am.’ He looks at me, expecting an answer. ‘So? What do you say?’

I open my mouth. Then close it again. All this hard work, and it could still mean I don’t pass the test. This way I could make sure I pass the test. Go to a good college. Get a good job. Have a good life. But… it isn’t fair. Doing this would be cheating, wouldn’t it? But is it really cheating if the system is corrupt to begin with?

I look back up at Mr. Davenport. Neither answer is perfect. But an opportunity like this…

So I open my mouth, and with a sense of confidence I look him right in the eyes when I give him my one-worded answer.

‘Okay.’