I had never heard such silence within a room of teenagers before and by the looks of the chaperones I would bet money that they would agree with that statement. Was he insane? What was wrong with our government for wanting to use us as lab rats for marriage? Let alone that they chose to test this on sophomores in high school.
"Jesus Christ," I whispered under my breath, my eyes still on Principal O'Doherty.
Rachel's and my hands slipped away from each other, I wasn't even sure who had unlinked our fingers, might have been the both of us.
"We're giving out the keys to your new homes," informed Principal O'Doherty, with this big smile on his face. "Go over to Ms. Dixon and Mr. M. Those with the last names A-M go to Ms. Dixon while the rest go to Mr. M."
I looked over at Rachel whose eyes seemed just as confused as I was sure mine were. Everyone stood up around us as we did so ourselves before we could be trampled.
"I guess I'm an M now…" Rachel said in a hushed tone.
Rachel was a March now.
"I guess so."
Rachel March…
We got in line for the A-M's as Rachel kept quiet stood in line. Her bag was unstable on her shoulder as she crossed her arms over her chest. Kids around us were asking if this was some kind of joke. Was there going to be a person from MTV popping out saying we were on a new reality show, we fell for it? There were outraged voices all around us and all the while Rachel and I were unable to look at each other. Some of the students were rushing over to teachers and started to argue with them. I kept glancing over at her just to see her turning her head away from me. We reached the front of the line as Ms. Dixon stood there with a box, a packet of papers, and a highlighter. She yawned as her dark eyes rolled over to me.
"Nick March," Ms. Dixon spoke with the 'ch' coming out forced, spat out as her eyes went to the paper, violently scratching out my name.
Ms. Dixon bent down, the sound of metal clanking about. Keeping my gaze down I saw a box of keys attached to the little white circles with numbers on them. She grabbed one of them before standing back up.
"Here is the key to your new home Mr. and Mrs. March," Ms. Dixon started. "Good luck, Rachel, you'll need it with this one."
Ms. Dixon dropped the keys into my palm which closed tightly around the metal. I dropped the key into one of my jeans pockets as Rachel and I dragged our feet over to the side of the room with the rest of our peers as loud yells were heard down the hall. Rachel jumped. My brothers and I had no problem screaming at each other, mostly we just cursed it off, but these voices were furious. Names of some of the students in my grade were echoing in the halls, doors were slammed locking us in the school's gym as the voices only increased in volume outside. Curses were spoken along with our Principal's name in the adult voices. A couple of the teachers stood in front of the now closed doors, putting the locks down so that they couldn't be opened from the outside. Rachel and I were pressed against the wall as students shoved each other to get to the doors; I held her limp hand in mine. I kept glancing at the clock seeing the minute hand spin around, all the while keeping Rachel close to me. Slowly the voices outside dimmed down outside before the halls seemed to quiet.
The entire grade filed out of the school out of another door. We made our way out of the school and into the cold November night, noticing a now empty parking lot. I wondered how our parents were reacting about the news that their children that were supposed to be on a simple school trip returned back to their hometowns as married couples, not just their children. They must be saying more than just the mumbled tones we heard. I was the youngest of four, still in high school and I was married first. We were going to be in the same town as our families, but not live with them. I don't know how the government was going to control us from just going back to our parents.
We crossed the street as a herd of helpless, speechless, students whose worlds have been just turned upside down. We were as vulnerable as little children who didn't really get why we were getting punished when we didn't do anything wrong. Why our grade instead of the year before us? Who thought to even marry off the students in the first place? The young voters really couldn’t have voted for this. There had to be many layers of officials who agreed to this. We hiked into the neighborhood across from the school that had been under construction except now there was a tall, black fence around the homes that had spiked tops going in both directions so that no one could climb over I'm sure.
"Looks like a prison," I mumbled under my breath.
Rachel opened up her mouth only to shut her lips. Her eyes scanned up the scale of the fence having to tilt her head to do so. The moon shined off her hair and the
