Girls without shadows

This is a sort of prequel/fanfic to one of my favourite Quibblo stories, Dice by _ Nothing _
( )

I promise I'll write an introduction later but honestly my brain is too bleh to come up with one now.

Chapter 2

The Jastens are just like the stereotypical teenage clique

by: FerSure
As I walked out the door, I tore off my veil and tossed it in a waste basket as a signal of the drastic change I had made. As of today, I was not Simin Alkhatib, the eleventh grade altruistic nothing. I was reborn: I was a new kind of person. I needed to move on and leave my dark past behind, the one corrupted by society and people who allegedly cared for me.

We boarded the van, a very unusual car unlike any other I had been in. It had dark, tinted windows to conceal whatever-it-was that they wished to hide from the outer world and a movable panel that separated out side of the car from the side that the representatives sat in. After what I estimated to be twenty minutes of voyage, the panel was lowered and Charles Hampton's head peeked through.

"I will need your full names and ages, if possible." He said, taking out a notepad and a pen. For a super-clandestine agency, their admission protocols were highly primitive. "I don't want a scandal, so we'll go by order. First guy, you start." He said, pointing at the short boy that had pushed me to taking this decision.

"Kindorman. Parker Kindorman." He told him. "Aged 18."

"Good boy." Charles told him, writing down his information. "Now, goth girl." He said, this time pointing at a girl with aqua blue hair and a lip piercing. Gosh, how I wish I was her.

"Danielle Rodriguez. For drinking and smoking issues, I'm 21 but unfortunately, my birthday certificate lists me as a mere 17-year-old."

Charles eyed her awkwardly for a moment. "Thank you for the interesting insight on your personal life, Danielle. Next, um" he said, chewing on his pen. Then he pointed at a skinny, curly-haired guy wedged between a heavy girl and the door. "You, Jew boy."

The boy looked at Charles in protest, obviously not liking his previous remark. "Yaakov Wolfish. For your information, I'm not Jewish."

"I don't care about your religion, kid. Just tell me your age."

"Nineteen." Yaakov admitted, seeming a bit embarrassed.

"Age buddies." Charles put his hand up, expecting a high five, but as he took notice that he had been denied, he moved on to the next person. "You, tiny girl"

"Isabel Wolfish. Seventeen, and sadly related to Yaakov." She told him.

"My condolences." Charles told her. "Alright who's left... Yes, whale." He said pointing at the heavy girl with the corner of his notepad.

The serenity he said those barbarities with made me seriously rethink my desicion. This was going to end up being a bloodier, less supervised version of my original life with the only variant that everything was told to my face in a brutal way, which was in a way both good and bad.

"Haven Durbin. Seventeen, love." She replied.

"Alright, that only leaves us with Moor here. Although Moor sounds like a tempting nickname, you have to give us your age and proper name."

I had to bite my lip to keep from shouting any insult against him. When I was about to say 'Simin Alkhatib', something stopped me. The name Simin didn't sound right anymore, for various reasons. I chose something that sounded like my name and my mother's given last name, to at least keep a piece of her in this place. "Sydney Danmore." I answered.

"Your name is oddly American,for an Arab." He told me.

"You're oddly observant, for an American." I retorted.

"I like your attitude." He told me, a smirk creeping up his face. "Easy to see why you reached this age without being married off to one of your father's old, business partners."

"Aren't you like fifteen, though?" Haven asked. I began to panic, the sudden fear of not being able to join the Jastens after all and dumping my veil in vain started creeping up my bloodstream.

Suddenly, I was saved by Charles, who decided to make a joke out of the situation. "You are fat, but no one calls you an elephant. Don't be racist, Haven. Our institution is against any kind of prejudice." He told her, winking at me.

"So, when will we be arriving?" Danielle inquired, not out of genuine preoccupation but to prevent the fight that was building up, because of Haven's anger issues and Charles's untroubled self. I shot a smile at her direction, as a form of thanking her for it.

"It won't be long." He answered, after taking a peek at his watch. "So, you and Isabel are siblings?"

"Unfortunately." Yaakov answered, his head turning to the door.

"Pardon me for this, but I feel more pity for her than for you, big guy."

Yaakov Wolfish did not answer, and instead he went to sleep, leaning against the door, trying to keep distance from Haven. So far, the only two people in this van I felt like I could confide in were the pastel goth girl and Parker. Haven was too impulsive and melodramatic, Yaakov seemed like a consented boy and his sister appeared to be another one of the it-girls. I lost my recently-found spirits when I thought about having to inhabit the same area as those three for the rest of my life.

"Alright, daisies, you might want to stretch your granny-bums because we're here" Charles announced, after a while had passed of staring at the diminutive cars driving past our monster-van.

To my surprise, we were parked in front of a lone, simple rural house. So were a ton of other vans. The field was starting to flood with hormonal beings and their representatives, some groups larger than others. For example, there was one group composed of three people in uniforms and over ten kids. Then there was one with only two teens and their instructor: seemingly from the higher class. They stared at us with disgust in their eyes, like we were some sort of pest or something.

"Kanen, you go out there and shine like a white girl's greasy forehead!" Charles patted the dark skinned man in the back. Suddenly, the man walked to what seemed like a fair midpoint from the angle I was watching, and all of the groups gathered Around him in a circle.

He started reciting some sort of speech, of which I got bored soon enough and spaced out, distracting myself with my thoughts. It wasn't until Parker shook my arm with a fiery passion my sister used to reserve for being right, that I came back to reality. Just as Kanen called out our names, indicating us which group we were in.

"Group eight: Parker, Danielle, Haven, Yaakov, Isabel and Sydney"

We were escorted to our staying place, not having to hear the last of the arrangements for the groups.

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