But, I'm Only Human...

"Designer babies," the term hadn't become huge until 2037, when there was a huge economic boom and we were free to spend money left and right. They became the biggest trend. It's 4498 and now, its rare to find what we call "chances," kids born by chance, without the specific genes that are what they'd call normal. Sad as it is, I'm a chance.


2. The Hypocritical Science Teacher

"Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it's in the eye of a genecist." Mr. Bestelle explains, tapping the screen to switch the slides on his stupid presentation. "So, when each of you were made, the genecists made you beautiful. Except for, well, the chances. Now the chances blah blah blah blah blah" He continued. I don't care what he has to say, we've already heard it from the science teachers we've had before. 

To them, chances are a medical impossibility, even though they used to be so common. I guess they might've deleted a file with all of the information on how chances happened, none of the scientists today know how.  either way, we get told the same thing every year, and it's stupid. I hate science.

"Mr. Bestelle, how come there are some chances that are prettier than some of us?" A normally quiet girl asked, receiving a look of disbelief from everyone in the classroom to answer her question. But, of course, she wanted Mr. Bestelle's answer. 

"Isabelle, let me explain something to you. You were all genetically made to be perfect, a standard no chance could reach. See, chances are more prone to disease than us, some even have a genetic disease, or as we call them in the science community, a G-fect." The girls in the room looked so surprised, gasping when they heard anything they didn't expect. "Do we have to go see doctors regularly? No. Unfortunately, they do, as they get sick and have allergies unlike us." 

I glanced up at the clock, hoping class would be over soon. We've still got a good twenty-five minutes. "So when you go to the doctors, if you do," Mr. Bestelle continued, beginning to drawl on, "you'd probably see a herd of chances." 

"Herd? We're not cows, you know." I said, which might've been the wrong thing to do. Each of the students turned around to face me, and shot me dirty looks.

"That's what you think." a boy claimed, scowling as he turned back to the lesson. The girls turned towards each other and began whispering, occasionally looking my way as they spread their pathetic little rumors. That's all they seem to do, regular girls.

"Anyway, back to the discussion-"

"Why are we even talking about this anyway, it's nothing we haven't all heard before, and honestly, it's kind of annoying. Would you like to here the same things over and over again, Mr.Bestelle?" His face got a really deep shade of red, as he turned his back towards the class, and continued the powerpoint, while the rest of the class filled out the notes.

Mr.Bestelle, if you couldn't tell, is obviously against chances. Although it's awfully hypocritical, considering he's one of us. You'd know by his balding head, and slightly hooked nose, but I guess they overlook it because of how much he favors the regular kids, and talks about how amazing they are, even when they're being incredibly rude and bratty. 

"Ms. Torrent, please come up to the board, along with Ms. Watson and Mr. Bairn," He said, twisting around with a smirk on his face, "I'm about to teach you all a little love lesson." 

I sigh as a rise out of my seat, meeting the others in the front. "Now, I want you three to introduce us to the class by telling your name, age, type, and what you are." He started the doing what I call the 'villian hand wringing.' We each looked to each other to see who would go first.

"I'm Laura Watson, I'm seventeen, I like hockey players, and I'm normal." Laura said, taking a step forward and then looking to they boy. He seemed to want to impress her, so he stepped up as well.

"I'm Dylan Bairn, I'm eighteen, I like softball players, and er-I'm normal, too." He said, getting cheers from the guys in the room. His face went pink, and then turned to face mine. 

"I'm Erin Torrent, I'm eighteen, I don't like people in general, and I'm a chance." I said, basically dismissing the room. Mr. Bestelle had an awfully wicked, and definitely suspicious grin on his face. Well, it wasn't going to make me look any better, that's for sure. 

"Now, say Ms. Torrent actually liked someone, no loved someone. Let's say it was Mr. Bairn,"  He played, grinning wider as he continued, "and he loves Ms. Watson, who does not in fact love him." Dylan's smirk had faded as soon as he heard that, and his ears turned as red Mr. Bestelle's face had five minutes ago. 

"Tell me, Ms. Watson, do you think he would give up on you and then go be happy with Ms. Torrent? Or would he settle for another girl who is around his age, likes hockey players, and is normal?" She seemed really uncomfortable about that question, but still, she cleared her throat, ready to answer the question. 

"I would hope that he settled for Erin." She said, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

"Yes, but what do you think?"

She hesitated."I think that he would settle for a girl like me, his odds would be better, as there are more of girls like me for him to pick from, and one of them is bound to like him." She said, quieter than her first response. The room was dead silent. If you dropped a pin in the room, you'd hear its tiny clang.

"Mr. Bairn, is Ms. Watson right?" 

He hesitated as well. He began looking at his shoes. "Yes, sir." That was it, that was all Mr. Bestelle needed. 

"And this, students, proves my point exactly. Chances don't stand a chance compared to us, the don't stand a chance compared to you. That's why they're more rare, because we know we can have better than them. Unfortunately, some people make mistakes, like Ms. Torrent's parents," The chatter that started up died just as quickly. People knew never to talk about a chances parents, they were killed, and chances tend to actually cry, whereas they don't. 

But, how dare he? I'm a mistake? "Excuse me, sir, but you are in no position to be calling people mistakes, you're one yourself." I exclaimed. No words could possibly describe the rage that's boiling inside of me, but 'no words' could describe the expression on everyone's face. I'm done, I thought as I made my way towards my desk. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Bestelle, Ms. Erin Torrent is needed in the office, she's going home early." The voice boomed, echoing in the classroom. Thank God, whoever he/she is. We don't really talk about God, but a long time ago, people would always say 'thank god' when they got out a situation. I guess I've just adopted the term. 

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Gritski." He replied, leaving a scowl on his face. "You got lucky Torrent. Very lucky." He finished, changing the slide on his dumb presentation. I made sure to slam the door on my way out, and tear down every poster I walked past. I'm so done with this crap.

"Bye!" I yelled, as I strutted out the front doors. Leaving school always feels good, but leaving school early? Amazing. It's too bad I live close to school though, it's about a block or two away, and it sucks. But, it's better than being at school. 

One, two, one, two, I thought as I hopped up each stair. "Claire! I'm home!" I walked into the kitchen. I could really go for some donuts right now. The pantry had a bunch of her health-nutrition bars. Ugh. I turned to the fridge, there has to be something in there.

There was something in there, a note. Thanks, Claire. "Doctor's Appointment, no snacks. I'll be home by four twenty, be ready to go. Signed Claire." I read, tossing the note behind me. What time is it anyway? I looked to the clock on the microwave. Four eleven, great, now I've got time to do that stupid math homework. 

I decided I cold do it while I wait when Claire pulled up to the house and honked twice. She's so inpatient sometimes. I nearly flew down the steps, and into her car. She gets annoying when she's angry. "So, how was school?" She asked, putting the car into reverse. Claire's really punctual. 

"It was horrible, as always. Mr.Bestelle was more hypocritical and science-y than normal. How was your day?"

"Long. Sometimes, I wish I didn't work in a cubicle, but then I remember that I make more money than I would being a measley teacher like Rich. What was he talking about today?"

"Oh, well today he was talking about how chances have to go to hospitals and have genetic defects, or whatever. And then, he went on about how we chances aren't good enough to be with regulars, and then talked about how I'm a mistake." I said, she wanted the answer, so I gave it to her. She gave me a pitying look, one you'd get from someone older. Claire's a chance, too, although you'd never know until you saw her resume. Chances have put that on their resumes, otherwise, it's illegal. 

"Oh forget him, he's always been a jerk. You could just ask James, he'd be able to tell you a few stories. That ha to have hurt, but just remember that they're all basically Build-A-Bears. I'll seen you in an hour!" She said before driving away. The clinic- type place seemed smaller than it was before, but that was four years ago. It was time for my check-up. 

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