An Angel's Hell - Chapter One

Poor Parcely, I think as he nears the scale with beads of sweat and an innocent sadness draining the life out of his budgie face. Every other Tuesday the government commanded all the schools to weigh the students. Sometime in the last few years someone had decided that being overweight was a crime. In that case, Parcely was just the perfect criminal for the dirty pigs that called themselves the Prospects. He was the only one who had to worry since his family was the only one that could really afford a decent meal. As I had assumed, he was overweight by ten pounds. Mrs. Davis wrinkled her nose as if she had sniffed something rotten then poked his bulky stomach and then went on to scribble a few notes on her paper. Parcely hung his head in shame and took a seat in the bleachers away from all the other skinny students. With a sigh, I step up on the scale and watch it barely pass the hundred pound mark.

At five foot ten, I know this is dangerously low but I have to focus my time and energy on feeding my two younger sisters and single mother. Mrs. Davis makes a 'tsk' noise then shakes her head and writes on her sheet of paper again before shooing me away towards the rest of the students. I make my way over to Parcely, feeling greatly annoyed by her disapproval. Stuck up rich kids never understood the hell we suffer because of the Prospects. I do not dare say this out loud, if I did, I would be severely punished. So instead, I sit beside Parcely and give him a slap on the back. I try to smile, but like always, it turns out to be more of a grimace. He sniffles and mumbles something incoherent that sounds close to 'I'm a pig' but I cannot tell for sure.

"Don't worry, we will get 'em next time," I encourage although I know this is his second strike. If he receives one more strike he will be towed away to a boot camp for three months. The Prospects say it is a place that includes laborious jobs and workouts that gets overweight children in shape. However, we all know it's a scam and half the kids that come back are skin and bones from being starved almost to near death.
Parcely gives me his famous fat kid slouch and sigh as he pulls out a chocolate bar and nibbles on it. Automatically my mouth begins to water and my eyes hungrily try to devour it with a desperate glare; but I hold back and force myself to look at my friend instead. It is not right to be envious that he can afford such luxuries when I strive to keep a few loathes of bread on the table. But still I am. "There won't be a next time. We both know I am not good and I can't stop myself from eating. It is how I cope," he replies with brown teeth from the chocolate.

"You could always come to work with me for a day and lose a few pounds," I suggest, doubting he would ever take up the offer. I was right.
"Nah, I'll just ask dad to smooth things over with the Quarter Guard," he mutters.
His dad is the mayor of Petti. But not even he could smooth things over with Jace, the Quarter Guard. A Quarter Guard is in charge of all the punishments for the criminals. He is an ass.
I start but am cut off by Mrs. Davis who had just finished up with Nina, a girl a year younger than me. "Everyone head back towards 315," she yells, as though we are soldiers instead of children.

In a way we are soldiers. There were a selected few that I would classify as a child in my class. Though Parcely is my only friend, I would say he was one of them. Most of us, though, are much more mature than our age gives way. We have to be. In order to survive.
After school it is the same routine. Run home. Do chores that mom is too depressed to do. Go to work for ten hours. On breaks run to town and steal a few groceries. Then, if I am not too exhausted, go to the lake and hope that I do not get caught fishing.
The Prospects argue that they wish to keep world peace but I know better. They just want control; they want us as puppets for their own power. They are all power hungry, lying, assholes. Once home, I run into Thea, the eldest of my sisters. She is ten and is a spit and image of my dead beat dad that had run away with the mayors' wife. It would be a lie if I said I did not hate him for running away from this hell and leaving us behind. But I would be lying if I said I did blame him.

"Loren, I am hungry," she complains, holding her stomach.
I fail to look her in the eye as I begin dressing for work in the fields. What can I say? Suck it up or go sleep with one of the guards for some more money then go buy you an apple? That would harsh and I would never let her do that so I say, "I know. Cook the last fish but wait for Laila to get home before you eat it."
Laila was in elementary school still and they always got out a bit later because they had to rehearse the laws of the country before leaving school. It was a cruel punishment that was drilled into younger children's minds so that they would always be robots that served the government. It was not a punishment aimed so much at them but it served as a reminder to the parents that they controlled everything and everyone.

After grabbing my sacks that held my daily pickings of peaches, I swiftly plant a kiss on Thea's forehead before dashing out of the door of our one bedroom shack. The sacks equal my pay but it could never be less than the day before. For example, if I were to pick three hundred peaches one day but I picked two hundred and ninety nine the second day, I would not get paid. After ten hours, I normally can pick about five hundred peaches, and that is all I push for. The fields are hundreds of miles long and wide, able to hold thousands upon thousands of peaches every day. It's called a super farm. We are the only city that has a peach super farm. It is 'our pride' so say the Prospects.