Perfection

"What on Earth are you doing?" yelled Mrs Coal as she snatched away a scrap of paper I had been writing on. The inky black scribbles gleaming in the bright light of the classroom. I stared up at it as though it was a trophy for my rebellion against this awful teacher. A smug grin just begging to be painted across my lips. "I was writing down my thoughts, so I don't forget them," I remarked, even though I knew she was asking me a rhetorical question. I doubt she even knows what a 'rhetorical question' even is. This landed me in a whole lot of trouble-as is expected when you have a teacher who cares about nothing more than vanity. I mean what's so wrong with wanting to express myself? I don't understand why all they teach us in school now is how to look beautiful. But how society defines being beautiful is not how I would define it. Beauty is about who we really are not who people want us to be. Well, everyone else, including the monarchy of this ruined world, thinks beauty is about looking the best or having the nicest clothes: it's all about being seen and not heard for them...all of them. Once again, I was dragged into the headteacher's office for trying to outwit Ms Coal. Sometimes, I think I shouldn't even come to school anymore seeing as I spend most of my time here doing nothing as I refuse to change the way I look. Still, my parents say that I need to at least try to fit in with all the countless other students which makes me feel isolated, but I think it's better to be isolated and be yourself; rather than being accepted by pretending to be someone you're not. "Well Ms Sparks, we meet again," said Mrs Young, a grotesque grin widening across her face. I tried my best not to shout or scream about how unfair this all was, but I couldn't. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "What's so wrong with voicing my opinions?" Mrs Young, glared at me as though she was trying to look into my soul. I flinched-by no intention of my own -trying my best to seem unaffected by her unwavering gaze. Obediently, Ms Coal handed over the torn, ragged piece of paper: every inch of it covered in treacherous words that they would never be able to read. Nevertheless, Mrs Young pretended to examine it-the truth is she didn't need to be able to read it. She knew it must be something completely and utterly against the rule of the Pristine Court but yet there was no proof as it could not be read by her or anyone in this building. "Ms Sparks," she paused to grab a handful of my limp brown hair. I yelped but there was nothing I could do." You know perfectly well that you should not voice your opinions, you should be concentrating on trying to make this," she pulled on my hair once again. Her vice-like grip yielding no release." Look beautiful. You have the potential to be beautiful, but you throw it all away, to what 'voice your opinions'." I scoffed. " In this amazing era that you have, you are just wasting your life!" she hissed finally letting go of my hair. "It wasn't always like this, though, was it!" I shrieked, jumping to my feet losing all control over myself: all I could think about was the burning rage I had for her. "In History books-" I stopped both teachers stared at me in horror. Oh no... I had mentioned books which were banned by the Prime Minister ages ago. Writing on a small piece of paper was not punishable by law unless proven to hold themes of treason which was impossible to prove at this point in time seeing as most people couldn't care less about the crazy girl who coloured everything in with black ink. Being in possession of literature, however, held a far more severe punishment... I only had them because my home used to be a Library before the book ban. It was converted into a house, but in my bedroom, I had found tonnes of books hidden beneath the floorboards. They cannot know where they are. They will definitely burn them. Without them, I would have know escapism from this wretched world. "What did you say?" boomed Ms Young, her voice echoing around the room. There was no escape. How was I going to get out of this mess? I debated whether I should sprint out the door, eventually, deciding against it. Wherever I went they would catch me. It wasn't like I could go anywhere anyway since Mrs Coal had edged toward the only exit. I decided I was no longer going to hide my true temperament; I was going to show them what true beauty actually is. "I said, in History Books it states that there were many eras before this so-called amazing era where everything is perfect. Well for your information this world is far from perfect. I want the chance to be who I really am and if that means breaking the law and reading literature which is more beautiful than you can possibly imagine than so be it.' They both gasped at my speech. For a moment I thought I could get away with having books, however, I was so very sadly mistaken.