Felon

"After all, crime is only a left-handed form of human endeavor." That was what had set it off. Long, long ago, they said that being left-handed was like a sin. It wasn't normal. Good. Safe. Have you ever noticed how many things in the world were made for a right handed population? Guitars, scissors, even spiral notebooks. So what did they do? They made being left-handed a crime. They murdered anyone who was seen using their left-hand, making this world a right-handed world, ruled by right-handed people, and lived in by right-handed people ONLY. What about the innocent people who are now secretly hiding from the world, afraid they might be killed? What if it just so happens that I'm one of those people? I guess that makes me a felon.

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1. We've Got Another Felon

"Now, class," My bird like teacher coo-ed. She was small like a piping plover, squawked as much as a parrot, and her name was Ms.Robin. What else could I compare her to, a rabbit? "I'd like you all to copy what I've written for you on the board. And don't forget-"

"The left hand is never right." The class recited, already scribbling the notes into their notebooks. I've never been quite fond of notebooks. I mean, I love flipping through them and seeing the empty pages, or reading the stories within them, but writing? No. 

"Trust me, I'm right." I murmured to myself. I have that habit. I tossed my pen around, I didn't want to write. It'd give me away. 

See, what the class had said earlier was basically the world's motto. The left hand is never right. It's how every city manages to function the most efficiently, no lefties screwing anything up, bumping elbows. That stuff. 

About a few hundred years ago, they made being left handed illegal. All because this big shot thought of telling the world that being left handed would cause crime. What a genius. Now, I basically can't write in class, or in any public area, I can't point to show direction, and have to act like I wouldn't be math-nerd. 

Yeah, probably shouldn't have said that. Or any of it. My bird-teacher kept babbling about Darwin's Theory of Evolution, until this jerk in my class decided to point out my empty paper. "Sorry, I was- er daydreaming. I'll try to focus." Nobody bought it.

"You sure, HayHay?" This bratty girl in my class mocked. My face flushed. This can't be happening, not now, not here. "You never seem to copy notes. Ever." She taunted. By now, even the slow people in the class had caught on. I was exposed. I was going to die. 

I bolted from my seat, hoping to make a quick escape.  God forbid I ever have luck on my side, the door shut. No, this's going exactly how the video went. They slam the doors, trap you in, the sirens go off. It won't be long until the police get here. I've got to find a way out.  

The other kids looked terrified, like they hadn't seen Connor get taken in the fourth grade, or Layla two years ago. How did they not see this coming? I looked around the room. I'd counted endless times, there are three of me here, looking just like the rest. They're just glad it isn't them. Ms.Robin held a gun in her tiny hands, her bun abnormally messy. 

"They'll be here for you. I shouldn't have turned my back on you, Aer. I should've known. But you can't hurt us now, now that I've got a gun." She looked as insane as I must've. The cars pulled in, and there I stood. "You'll never get out. Take one step and I'll shoot. Say one word and I'll shoot. Do anything, and you'll wind up like Mrs. Tate." 

Mrs. Tate was my eighth grade math teacher. She got it, she got me. She printed out notes for our entire class, she kept me hidden, and although I never told her, she knew. But she didn't just know, she understood, like she was trying to help us, because no one could help her. 

I'd never seen her after the eighth grade, I'd never gone to visit. I'd just assumed the best. 

The boys in blue stood at the windows, the butts of their guns towards me. The door fell flat to the floor, and in rushed the officers.People yelled; That's the girl! Left handed filth! Rot in prison, felon! and I don't remember it all quite right. Just that at the moment they went to grab me, I slid past them all, and made way for the woods. 

I'd escaped. I'd gotten my luck. 

Run, Hay, run. I'd dodged the trees in front of me, looking at each for a sign. The cops were catching up to me, I had to find it. That tree to the- wow. Really? It was that tree to the left. Of course. I banked right, dragging them farther into the forest. A quick U-turn, and a few yards later, I reached safety. 

I kicked the leaves covering the hole to the side. Climb, climb faster. Muffled voices got louder. CLIMB!, the voice in my head screamed. Oh forget it, the voice said, and I let go.

I expected the fall to be long, and the landing painful. Instead, I fell for three seconds, and really could've just kept climbing. I stood before two paths, the wrong one was a dead end. You'd think that because it was a left- handed underground railroad type of thing, we'd take a left as that's how we hint at everything else. But, we actually take a right, then another right. 

The first left is, in fact, a dead end. The other left leads to the Empire state building. And, if you guessed the second right, both of the next tunnels end in a dead end, and because they can't see the sign to the next exit, they leave. But the sign pointed to an exit that made it look like you were going backwards, and then made you take two rights, and then a left. 

I kept that in mind as I raced through the tunnels, footsteps following my trail of sound. Time to hook the left, the voice said, as I grabbed a hold of the rock wall. Just. Keep. Running.  I kept running down the twisty path, until I hit something hard, and fell.

"Hey! Watch your- wait, your- just, come with me." The voice said, offering a hand. I took it, and we ran down the way, reaching a door at the end. The click of the handle, and I knew I'd made it. The light from the room flooded into the tunnel, and hands dragged me into the sterile white room.

"The- the cops. They were chasing me, I got exposed. They'll find me, I gotta go." I said. The faces in front of me, I hadn't noticed until I finally caught my breath. Connor shook his head, Layla looked surprised, and the boy who rescued me, I didn't know him. A chair behind a desk turned around slowly, revealing the person sitting in it slowly. 

Part of me wished it was Mrs. Tate. I hadn't her in so long, and I just wanted to know she was alright. But, the figure in the chair was not Mrs. Tate. It was a short, dark haired girl, who looked to be twenty-one. "So you're Hayden," The woman started, "Well, we were notified of this morning's occurrences. I must say, I wouldn't have expected it to happen this year. I was thinking last year, more-so." 

"Well, I tend to surprise everyone. Now, uh, about me leaving?" 

"Ms. Aer, I'm afraid you won't be able to leave, at least not for a while." My jaw dropped, I couldn't help it. "We want them to stop looking for you. In the meanwhile, we need to teach you about this place." 

"The information your schools have provided you are wrong. Fortunately, your mother made it her business to get you information you may need." The rescuer said. Wait, what about mom?

"I need to call my mom!She needs to know I'm okay!" Connor and Layla must've traded expressions, because that's what it looked like. 

"We've already contacted her." The woman said calmly. 

"Yes, but I need to talk to her!"

"You can't," The boy piped in, "they can trace the call, find us, and kill us all. Including you, and you especially. If you'd like to live, I'd suggest sitting down," He motioned to the chair behind me, "and shut up." He glared at me, but it wasn't the 'just shut up and do it ' kind of glare, it was the 'if they don't kill you, I will' kind. I've gotta say, that boy was awfully distracting. 

I'm sorry, I've never really had that 'boys are icky, they have cooties' phase. This boy is handsome, and I- as weird as it sounds- can't help but stare. Jeez, Hay, focus. I sat down anyways. They could always push me out onto the streets.

"I'm afraid he's right. Until then, Connor, Layla, and Sam can show you around. Bring her back by dinner." The lady said, turning her chair back the way it turned. I stood, and left following their trail. 

We'd gone down the tunnels, until we came to the one leading to New York. "We're not really going to New York." Layla explained. Sam rolled his eyes. "There's another path, to the box." Sam shot me another look, and this one said 'ask a question, and I'll shank you'. I'm not on his good side then. 

We walked for about a quarter of a mile, then Layla pushed a boulder out of the way, revealing another room. The last I remember Layla, she had been the girly, dainty, type of girl. Now, she was stronger than me.  Alright then. 

The people in the room looked to the trio and embraced them, like family. Once, they dispersed, that's when everyone froze. People whispered stuff like; Who is that? I bet she's a right. She isn't registered here. The works. 

Connor, Sam, and Layla moved so that they'd be standing behind me, and in unison, screamed "We've got another felon!" Everyone cheered.

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