Chapter 1: Fortune

A rap on the board signifies the 5 minutes I have left to write my introductory essay. My first class of the day requires a page of writing on what we did this summer to serve our country. And by that, my instructor means what work assignment I chose. I reached the age of labor 4 years ago, when I turned 12. Other kids my age were shipped off to farms and factories for three months, but I was exempt as the son of a minor government official. My technical assignment is apprentice, as I’m meant to take over his job once I reach the age of wealth.

I scratch out the summary of my family’s final trip to the lake cabin we were granted and instead fill the page with a list of secretarial duties I would perform if I was truly learning my father’s craft. On paper, I was filing ship manifests and fisher’s yields, learning to interpret the data and change the net values accordingly.

There's no way I'm telling them the truth.

"Times up," our English teacher chirps. She gives me an over eager smile passing by, taking my paper up with too much enthusiasm. I almost wonder if she knows.

More likely, she’s sucking up to me to get a good word in with my dad. The protection and prestige of the company, no matter how big the job, follows you everywhere. It, much like the company itself, is inescapable.

"New kid!” A harsh whisper assaults me and I turn around to a silver eyed boy, a couple inches taller than me. Something seems off for the slightest second, before my eyes resolve and he appears normal again.

"Sorry, what?" I ask, squinting again. I could've sworn. . . Never mind.

"You seem like a lost little freshman," He smirks, "Need a tour?"

"Lost little junior actually," I respond, "And no. I've already got a tour guide."

"Alright," his expression softens, "A friend then?"

"Sure," I shrug. It won’t kill me to have one friend. The boy opens his mouth to respond, but the teacher silences us with a glare. She's said her name eight times, and it's written on the board, but I can't be bothered to care.

When the bell signals the end of class, I stumble over a couple of back packs to keep up with him.

"Wait," I stop him, catching my breath, "I didn’t catch your name."

"That's alright," he laughs, "I never threw it."

I let him go, turning instead to the presence I suddenly feel behind me. A girl with purple and blue hair materializes with crossed arms. Her eyes are a bright copper today, a good sign.

"Wanna blow lunch?" Fortune asks. She's my best friend. Only friend really, other than the guy with the silver eyes. His name is Silver, I decide.

Fortune tugs on my sleeve, "Come on. You know I hate all these people. They give me a headache." Fortune really doesn't enjoy being ignored. And since I'm the only one that sees her, it happens a lot. She likes it better when it's just us.

"So, who is he?" Fortune raises her eyebrows.

"I don't know." I shrug. "He didn't tell me."

"You’ve been here for a day, and you’re already making friends?" Fortune rolls her eyes.

"One friend," I remind her. My classmates are blissfully unaware of my status, and for that I am grateful. Any friends I make here will be my own.

"Maybe we can all have a sleepover," she retorts, “I don’t suppose this one will talk to me?”

"Probably not. You're just part of. . ." I trail off. She doesn't like when I say she's imaginary.

"Part of what?" she challenges, tensing up.

"A different world," I say quickly. She relaxes once again, stretching her feet out on my small dorm bed. They gave me a single. Perks of being someone.

"Still, he's nice."

"What? Am I not good enough?" There's always an undercurrent of I dare you's to her jokes.

"No. It's just nice to be able to talk to someone and not be assumed crazy."

"Oh," her smile wilts, "Of course."

"It's not you, it's. . ."

"Them," Fortune finishes, "It's Fortune and Lucky against the world. . .And new boy," she throws in as an afterthought. After that, Fortune shuts up. She grins and closes her eyes, fading ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight.

I lay back and fall asleep on the floor, dreaming of drowning girls and cobweb mausoleums.