Disclaimer: I don't own anything you notice, all that belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter seven

The next day Tanya and Irina arrived back from solitary in time for morning training. Neither acknowledged their fellow surpluses. Telltale red welts were evident on their cheeks and hands, and Bella suspected that more were hidden by their overalls. Under their eyes they both bore the signs of a sleepless night –dark shadows and drooping eyelids.

Bella, who was feeling tired herself, not to mention hungry from the lack of breakfast, also couldn't help noticing that Edward was missing from class. Not that she cared. In many ways, she was relieved –he had made her angry with his taunts about her parents, angrier than she'd realized. She wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he too, had spent the night in solitary for some misdemeanor. In fact, she'd half expected him to arrive with Irina and Tanya.

But he didn't turn up. There was no knock at the door; no last minute interruptions.

Once everyone had noted Tanya and Irina's appearance, the story of last night's games having spread swiftly around the class, the surpluses soon started whispering about Edward's absence instead, nudging each other and looking meaningfully at the empty desk next to Bella where Edward normally sat. She, though, was far too proud to get involved in their gossiping.

Instead, she stared ahead purposefully; trying to ignore her rumbling stomach and listening intently to Mrs. Dawson explain how surpluses had to master invisibility –the ability to be on hand constantly and yet never have their presence felt. In truth she decided, it was probably a good thing Edward wasn't there. Mrs. Dawson had a firm expression on her face, and Edward never failed to perform badly in this class, never left without some sort of punishment or other being imposed on him.

Where Mrs. Denali was small in height and structure, Mrs. Dawson was large –about a hundred and eighty eight centimeters and with rolls of flesh that wobbled as she moved. Her hair, although pinned up in a chignon like Mrs. Denali's, somehow managed to break free regularly, meaning that she constantly had to sweep it back off her face.

Bella liked Mrs. Dawson and was determined to do well in her class. Decorum was very important for surpluses. Mrs. Denali said that Legals considered Decorum one of the most attractive skills in a surplus male or female.

"It should be as if you don't exist at all," Mrs. Dawson said, her voice firm. "You should blend into the background as you go about your chores, and yet, when you are needed you should be there immediately. It is a great skill and one that you will learn with practice . . ."

Bella nodded seriously, and imagined herself in Mrs. Weber's house, appearing out of the shadows when she was needed, blending into the background when she wasn't. The perfect surplus. A true valuable asset.

"And how might you ensure that your presence is not felt? Tanya?"

Bella allowed herself a quick glance at Tanya, who was staring resolutely ahead.

"Keep our eyes lowered," Tanya said, her voice quivering slightly, last night's defiance all but gone from her voice.

"And?" Mrs. Dawson asked.

"No talk, or offer our opinions," Tanya continued quietly. "Not think or read or do anything that might distract us."

"That's right." Mrs. Dawson said looking at Tanya thoughtfully. "What about you Irina? Do you have anything to add?"

Irina, who was sporting a black eye and a defeated expression, bit her lip.

"To anticipate the requirements of our Legals," she said hesitantly. "To always be thinking about what they might need or want . . ."

Mrs. Dawson nodded. "That's right Irina. To always be thinking about what Legals might want. And what about the things you might want, Irina? What about those?"

Irina looked down at the floor. "We're surplus," she said flatly. 'We don't want anything. We don't have the right to desires. We are here to serve."

'Good." Mrs. Dawson said matter-of-factly. "Let's see it in practice shall we? One after the other, I want you to cross the room in front of me. Silently, so I can't hear a thing. Bella you start."

The surpluses gathered at the side of the room and Bella glided across the floor as quietly as she could, followed by Jessica and Tanya, all of them prompting nods of approval from Mrs. Dawson.

Next surplus Tyler made his way across, picking his feet up and frowning in concentration. Tyler was a tall boy, with curly hair, large feet and an almost skeletal frame. He had arrived at Grange Hall in the same year as Bella, but he had more in common with surpluses who had arrived when they were much older –he was quiet, often distracted, and wasn't good at anything as far as Bella could tell.

"I hear you," Mrs. Dawson snapped. "Go back and do it again."

Reddening slightly, Tyler went back to the side of the training room and started again, staring intently at his large feet as he tried to stop them from making a sound.

"No!" Mrs. Dawson shouted when he had taken just two steps. "You clumsy boy. Do it again."

Tyler retreated and he wiped beads of sweat off his forehead, this time forcing himself onto his tiptoes and looking at Mrs. Dawson. Halfway across, Mrs. Dawson opened her mouth as if to speak. Tyler's eyes opened wide in anticipation of another criticism, and as they did so, he lost his balance, grabbing onto a desk as he fell to the ground, and pulling it down with him.

Mrs. Dawson stood up.

"Up!" she shrieked. "Stand up. You useless surplus."

Tyler pulled himself to his feet, apologizing profusely, but Mrs. Dawson was deaf to his words. She pulled his hands in front of him, placed them on a chair and then picked up the cane she always carried with her, smashing it down on Tyler's fingers.

"Clumsy!" she shouted. "You will learn not to be clumsy. Now, do it again."

His face white with pain and shock, Tyler made his way back to where his fellow surpluses were waiting their turn. One of his fingers was bent the wrong way and he seemed disorientated as he started to cross the room for the third time. He made it only a quarter of the way across the room before stumbling again, his entire body clenching with fear as he awaited his inevitable punishment.

Mrs. Dawson looked at him with disgust. "You will go without supper tonight and you will practice walking across this room all night," she said "And if before breakfast tomorrow you cannot do it silently, then you will miss all meals tomorrow and practice again the following night, until you can do it properly. Do you understand?"

Tyler nodded and staggered over to where Bella, Jessica and Tanya were standing. He stared at the floor nursing his bleeding hand, as surplus James' name was called.

"She only picked on you because surplus Edward isn't here" hissed James at Tyler when he's successfully crossed the room a few moments later. Then he looked meaningfully at Bella. "And Edward's going to pay for it too."

Bella stared at him, and then looked away. She didn't care. All she'd ever wanted to be was a valuable asset. And she was determined that she wouldn't care about anything else. If her lip was quivering slightly, if she felt suddenly gripped by fear and uncertainty and a feeling like she was falling, then she was fairly sure it would pass. Things generally did at Grange Hall.

Mrs. Denali saw to that.

For the rest of the day, Bella applied herself to her training sessions and chores in a way that would make Mrs. Denali proud. She polished the floor of her dormitory, and then polished the corridor outside just for good measure.

She was at central feeding early to prepare that evening's feed, and didn't even roll her eyes when she was given the meat to prepare. As a prefect, meat preparation was a job well within her rights to delegate to a younger surplus. It was a lowly job, made harder by the fact that the kitchen knives were so blunt they barely scratched the service of the rubbery, gristle-filled flesh they were given once a week, scraps from the local maximarket where Legals brought their food. Instead, she performed a thorough job of boning and chopping, and all the while, she was practicing being invisible, keeping her eyes lowered and her feet light. And as she worked, she focused her mind on the task at hand by repeating Evening Vows to herself:

I vow to serve, to pay my dues

And train myself for Legal use.

I vow to bear the surplus shame

And repay Nature for the same

I vow to listen, not to speak

To steel myself when I am weak.

I vow to work and most of all

To serve the State if it should call.

Evening vows were said every night before bedtime. They reminded surpluses of their place in life, Mrs. Denali said. Not that surpluses could have any purpose, not really; that would suggest they had a reason for existing, which they didn't. But it gave them a sense of what they were to do with their lives, of how they were to pay Mother Nature and the State back for looking after them, when they really should have been tossed back where they came from.

Bella could never really understand how that would work; where would they be tossed back to? But she didn't ask, just in case Mrs. Denali decided to show her.

She frowned, and stood up to put the prepared meat in the large vat for cooking.

But as she did so, she felt someone coming up behind her, and turned suddenly, to see the face of surplus James just a foot away from hers. Surplus James was also a prefect, but where Bella exercised her authority through firm words, a belief in rules and a much-talked about closeness with Mrs. Denali. James' authority stemmed primarily from his size. At seventeen, he wasn't particularly tall for his age, but what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk, partly because of a natural muscularity, and partly because he regularly commandeered the food from other boys at his table, who would readily give up their bread or broth in spite of their hollow, aching stomachs because the alternative was far worse than hunger. James could torment a boy until he no longer had bladder control; could dole out such horrific punishments that solitary seemed like a welcome respite.

Today, his face was swollen, something that Bella had registered in Decorum, but hadn't dwelt on. Surpluses regularly sported bruises and cuts –the result of punishments, fights and games. No one asked why a cheek was red or a hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage, and unless the injury was very serious, no treatment was ever sought –or given.

Only on very rare occasions was a doctor sent for. It had only happened twice during Bella's stay at Grange Hall, once for a boy who had broken his leg in several places during a game, and once when a new surplus had a fever. Illness was feared by surpluses.

Without longevity drugs, they were vulnerable to any number of viruses and ailments, but few admitted their discomfort until it was absolutely necessary; Mrs. Denali had made it clear many times that sickness was a sign of weakness. Illness suggested that Mother Nature didn't think you'd ever be useful and wanted to 'weed you out early'.

That's what happened to the new surplus. She had something called a fever and she died, in the end. Bad genes, Mrs. Denali had told Bella a few weeks later. It was 'for the best'.

Bella looked briefly at James. His lip was bloody and his left eye barely visible, hidden behind the cheek that had inflated protectively around it. It was odd, Bella though to herself, slightly nervously, how James looked even more threatening when he was injured.

"So now I know who to blame if the meat is ruined," James said sneeringly as Bella narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you want surplus James? You shouldn't be in the kitchen." She said, trying her hardest not to shrink back at the mere sight of him. She turned back to the vat and continued to scrape the meat into it, but she could feel his eyes boring into her neck and it made her uncomfortable.

"Where is your little friend?" he said in a low voice. "Where is he?"

Bella frowned and looked back at him uncertainly.

"I don't know what you mean," she said evenly. "I don't have friends James."

James moved closer so that Bella could feel his breath on her neck. "Surplus Edward," he said coldly. "Where is he?"

Bella stopped what she was doing. James was in Edward's dormitory. If he didn't know where Edward was, then who did?

Cautiously, she turned round. "Why do you want to know where Edward is?" she asked.

James smirked. "I knew it. So, he went running to you, did he?" He shook his head slowly. "You know that surplus is trouble don't you, Bella? You know that he deserves everything he gets. And you do too."

Bella gripped the knife she was holding.

"I don't know what you mean," she said flatly, forcing herself to look James in the eye, to show that he didn't intimidate her. He was no threat, she reminded herself. She was a prefect. She wasn't a weak surplus ripe for bullying.

James shrugged. "If he went running to you, it won't make any difference. He had it coming. Needs to learn some respect. Mrs. Denali understands, you know Bella. She knows that Edward only got what he deserved, so there's no point telling her any different. You think you're her favorite surplus, but you're not. She pities you."

Bella felt her stomach clench in anger. "No one pities me, surplus James." She growled.

James smirked, and leant down closer to Bella.

"Everyone pities you, surplus Bella. Edward especially," he said, his voice menacing. 'Why do you think he tries to protect you? Because he thinks' that you're pathetic that's why."

Bella stared at him, her eyes wide. "Protect me?" She asked uncertainly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about this," James growled, opening his overalls to reveal a large greeny-black bruise stretching across his chest.

"He's a maniac. And all because I said the most useful thing they could do with you is to put you out of your surplus misery. I meant it too."

Bella could feel James' breath on her forehead and she jutted out her chin to show that she wasn't scared.

"Wherever he is," James continued menacingly, "I'll find him. I kicked his head in because he deserved it and I'll do it again too. I'll kill him if I have to. Mrs. Denali won't care. And I'll be sure to make it look like an accident, don't you worry about that."

Before Bella could say anything in response, James walked off, just missing a Domestic who had come to check on Bella's work.

"Hurry up," she shouted angrily, staring at the still raw contents of the vat. "Get on with it, you lazy surplus."

"Yes," Bella answered her voice level In spite of her racing mind. "I'm sorry, I'll be quicker now."

She added boiling water along with a packet of powdered stock to add bulk to the stew, but as she stirred the mixture, all thoughts of Evening Vows left her head. Instead, all she could think about was Edward. About the trouble he was in. about the conviction, deep down inside of her, that she had to tell him, had to warn him.

She knew it was out of the question; knew that it would mean breaking every rule that she had so vigorously upheld for most of her life. But she knew that she didn't have a choice. Edward was her friend, however much as she tried to deny it. And Bella, who had never before allowed her heart's voice to be heard, was now unwillingly and unavoidably in its thrall.

At 1 a.m., Bella lay awake in her bed, contemplating what she was about to do, working out how long it would take her to get to solitary to see if Edward was there, how likely it was that she would disturb another surplus in her dorm, or worse, get caught once outside.

There were no longer cameras along the corridors of Grange Hall –those that had been installed originally had proved too expensive to run and there was no money for replacements. But Mrs. Denali didn't need cameras to keep the surpluses at Grange Hall In their beds at night; she preferred to rely on good, old-fashioned fear, preferred to stalk the corridors herself when she couldn't sleep, which was often.

If Bella was caught out of bed, she'd be beaten; if she was found making her way to solitary, she couldn't conceive of a punishment severe enough.

Gingerly, she sat up and looked around the small, cramped dormitory that had once served as the office to the Director of Operations, Department of Rescue and Benefits. There were ten beds in all, with little space between, each with a steel frame and thin mattress. On nine of them, female pending surpluses slept, their hair splayed over their pillows and hands curled into fists, a situation replicated all the way down the hall in all the other dormitories containing all the other surpluses.

Trying not to think too much about what she was doing, Bella eased herself out of bed and winced as her feet touched the cold, hard floor.

Softly, recalling her Decorum practice, she slipped silently out of the dormitory and down the corridor. Grange Hall was strangely silent –even the smalls seemed to be asleep. A surge of fear gripped her. She felt so exposed, so utterly vulnerable, alone in the darkness, her toes clenching against the coldness of the floor. With five hundred surpluses and thirty staff the surpluses were rarely alone at Grange Hall; to be so now felt both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Slipping through doors, down the stairs and then along the cold, damp and dark corridor that ran along the basement of the building, Bella finally found herself approaching the solitary cells. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"This better be worth it, surplus Edward." She muttered to herself as she turned the corner.

But then she stopped abruptly and slipped back behind the wall. There outside one of the three solitary confinement cells, was Mrs. Denali, with two men, one of whom was carrying Edward through the large, metal door.

Bella frowned, trying to work out what was happening. Was he ill? Where were they bringing him from?

Bella felt her heart pound wildly in her chest, and held her breath, peeking round the corner to see what was happening. She was fairly sure no one had seen her, but if Mrs. Denali and the two men were planning to go back upstairs via staircase 3, she would be trapped.

There would be nowhere she could hide –the stark grey corridor had nothing but the locked doors to store cupboards, and there was no way she could outrun them either; they were just a few metres away.

But to her immense relief, once the man deposited Edward and locked the door of his cell, they turned and followed Mrs. Denali the other way along the corridor.

"You'll get your money upstairs," she heard Mrs. Denali say as they walked away. "And if you say one word about this to anyone, the authorities will find out about your little black market ventures, do you understand?"

Bella heard the men grunt in reply, and waited until their footsteps could no longer be heard, then stealthily slipped round the corner and towards the door of Edward's cell.

"Edward," she whispered. "Edward, can you hear me? Its Bella . . ."

Dun-dun-dun…

What happens next? Review to find out if Edward's alive or not :/

Oh, by the way guys i've updated my story 'The Hell That Is My Life' (finally :D), I would really appreciate you guys checking it out and letting me know what you think :D

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