"Sherry! Sherry! Wake up you worthless piece of garbage! I haven't got time for this."
"Ugh, 'm sleeping. Five more minutes?" I figured he could wait on me at least this once, especially given what's going on soon.
That was the wrong thing to say, and I should have known that, but I guess I wasn't thinking straight. The hard, bruising kick to the stomach was enough to remind me that I should, though.
"You little bitch! I don't have time for your attitude today, not with the forms arriving and the preparations that needto be made. So get your act together and be ready in the front room in five minutes." Then he left.
I dragged my body up into a sitting position, leaning against the cold concrete. I lifted my shirt up enough so I could see where he had kicked me.
Damn, that's going to bruise. And that'll piss them off more.
But I still managed to get up on my feet, ponytail my hair with an old rubber band, and trudge up the basement stairs. Luckily, I managed to get to the front room with 1:27 minutes to spare. Not that it would matter.
"Finally. We've been waiting for you for ages! I had to get up on my own this morning! How could you?" Asked a whiny, petulant voice.
That's one of my "sisters", Arabella, though why my parents even bother trying to pretend is beyond me. Let me explain. Three years ago, I crashed on the doorstep of the Angels, a family of Twos and one of the richest, outside of the royal family, of course, who are Ones. See, we live in a caste system, where your job, wealth, and everything else is decided by your caste number.
So one might say I was lucky to land on their doorstep, but since I'm treated like a slave I wouldn't be so sure. So now that you know the caste system where the better your number the better off you are, I'll tell you a little something about the Angels.
My "family" consists of two sisters, Arabella and Rosalie, my mother, Jennifer, and Michael, the head of the family and CEO of AngelTech Industries, a business that serves just about all of Illéa. Or rather, all of Illéa serves AngelTech. The Sixes that clean the building, the Fives that preform in the ads, the Fours building in the factories, and the Twos, and Threes, who are the main customers, among others, and the sevens and eights who do the less…desirable jobs. And since the company is situated in Angeles, Illéa's capitol, Michael Angel practically owns everything…and everyone.
But I'm sure you're not here to hear about the Angels' life stories, are you? Well, if you want to know about me there's not much to tell, because my existence basically sums up to putting up with this everyday:
"If I oversleep I'll get wrinkle lines or something! Daddy, how could you let her do this?" Arabella whined. Michael looked at his younger daughter and said
"Don't worry Pumpkin, I'll buy you a brand new dress for your lottery photo. As for her," He said, turning to me with a look that said "there'll be trouble", "She will have extra work to do. Maybe I'll let the Sixes have the night off and go help their daughters get ready. They need all the help they can get."
"You say that like they actually have a chance," Said my other sister, Rosalie. "Honestly, the only reason there are Sixes in the Selection at all is so that whole stupid caste can feel special. Like that's important. Speaking of importance, I need a dress for my lottery photo too!" But she really didn't. I mean, if Rosalie became one of the selected, she would probably be one of the biggest threats to the others with her wide caramel eyes, silky chocolate hair, and full lips. It also didn't hurt that she had ample cleavage too. But of course, being the spoiled brat that she is, Rosalie had to get something new, if only for the fact that her sister did too. Or maybe because she wouldn't be caught dead in last season's clothes.
"Michael, dear, I hate to admit it, but shouldn't we find something for Sherry to wear?" She grimaced as she said this, as if saying we had to give an Eight room and board for a night. "I mean, she can't go out looking like this, and if people were to find out the truth our reputation would be ruined!"
"She can borrow one of the girls' old things," He said dismissively. Then we all headed into the dining room of the mansion, one of the few mansions left, for breakfast. And no, I didn't eat with my so called family, if you're wondering, I served them. So anyway, as I said before, I landed on the doorstep of the Angel family. Literally, one of the servants found me knocked out on the steps, went to Michael, and then brought me inside. I was around the same age as their daughters (14), so for whatever crazy reason they kept me. A whole story was concocted on how I was the long lost daughter, Sherry, who had been kidnapped at birth and then "miraculously returned home". At least, that was what the public knew. In reality, I was treated worse than a Six, doing just about every possible job the Angel family could imagine. I got one set of new clothes a year, nothing for Christmas or any other holiday (not that anybody knows many other holidays nowadays), and they didn't even bother with my birthday after the initial fake birth certificate. I slept on the cold, hard cement floor of the basement with only a threadbare blanket for warmth, and the only times I would be dressed up were when the entire Angel family had to be present. Even then, I wore one of the girls' old dresses and the only makeup I would have on was to cover up any marks.
It's not that I cared though. I had much bigger things to worry about. Unfortunately, right now that meant scrubbing the floor in the front room. I rubbed the brush over a particularly resilient scuff mark, as if getting rid of it could get rid of my problems. And I have to say, while it didn't whisk them away into thin air, doing so certainly made me feel better. After I finished cleaning the floors, all of them, I had to clean all the rooms, make the beds from top to bottom, do the laundry (thank God for washing machines and dryers), prepare lunch, and clean the chimneys. All seven of them. And that was just for the morning. By the time early afternoon was rolling around, Arabella and Rosalie were practically running around the house in excitement. That was because this was the time the Illéa Postal service would be coming. And with it, three forms that would change someone's life forever.