The Weed

We had been chosen. Out of every child on earth, we were the few privileged enough to survive. To start anew. They’d brought us here, the angels, taken us away right before the old planet was destroyed. Then they’d taken us here. To this place. This glorious paradise. They watched over us, guided us, but remained out of our way. As time passed, we hardly even remembered what the old planet had been like, we had been young when we were taken, but we knew our purpose here. It was simple enough: everyone, once they reached ‘maturity’ was to pair up, and mate.

Only one problem. No one wanted to mate with me. I had been a pretty child, skinny with unblemished olive skin, long black wavy hair, and green almond-shaped eyes. But as I had ‘matured’, I hadn’t grown prettier. Unlike the other girls, I did not gain a figure and breasts, but remained a flat and sticklike. My unblemished skin broke out and seemed eternally covered in pimples, and my hair became frizzy and greasy. The clothes that they provided us that fit the other children so flatteringly fit me like a large pillowcase.

It was for this reason that I had decided to wait. There was exactly enough of us so that each guy had one girl. Once all the guys had been chosen, there would be one left for me. We’d have no choice. I didn’t have to worry about getting an unattractive guy; I was the only unattractive person on the new planet, everyone else, it seemed, had stayed just as beautiful as they were when they were a child.

The angels had given us a mess hall that almost always seemed to have food; no one was sure exactly what it was, only that it was the most delicious thing any of us had ever tasted. They had given us a center to socialize and meet each other. They had given us two sets of barracks, one for boys and one for girls. Once we’d reached maturity and chosen our mate we were moved into individual houses where we could raise a family. Once our own children reached the age of five, they’d be moved back to the barracks, to mature, find mates and move out. Things would be structured on the new planet, the angels wouldn’t let us make the same mistakes humans made on the old planet.

This was our new beginning.

And then we were the last ones left. We each sat on a bunk in the girl’s barracks, across from each other, hands grasping the edge of the beds, each studying the other person. I bit my lip. In the looks department, he was just like every other boy on the new planet, gorgeous. He had dark, tanned skin and golden blonde hair that rested on his head in long golden waves, stopping just above his shoulders. Blue eyes studied me intently, pale pink lips pursed.

We were the last two and, at age sixteen, we were late. Most of the children had moved out by fourteen, when the last of the girls had started getting their periods. Lenora had chosen before me. She hadn’t really wanted to mate, but knew she had to, so she had waited with me, and only chose when she absolutely had to. She said she’d done it for me. Now I had him.

“I’m stuck with you?” he blurted out.

My face flushed scarlet. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked indignantly, though I already knew the answer.

“Well, your ugly, aren’t you,” he said.

Although I’d heard these taunts a thousand times before, it still hurt and I held back tears. “Well I don’t particularly want you either,” I said, “you’re not very nice.” I folded my arms across my chest.

He scrunched up his lips. “How come you’re even here?” the boy said, “I thought we were supposed to be the ‘perfect race’. You’re not even close to perfect.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his comment. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Alexander,” he said.

“Well, Alexander,” I said, “I can see why you got stuck with me. You’re not very perfect either.”

“Whaddya mean by that, Squat?” he asked, indignantly.

“I mean,” I said, “everyone else is pretty nice. You’re not very nice. And my name isn’t Squat. It’s Isabelle.”

“Well Squat fits you better,” Alexander spat.

“Yeah... well, you know...” I trailed off, “you’re name should be... Meanie-face. Because that’s what you are.”

“Oh my,” Alexander said, chuckling, “that is so very offensive. I’m practically crying.” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

I frowned at him. “Well I’m sorry I’m not as mean as you,” I said, glaring at him.

“So how come we’ve never really talked before?” he asked.

“Well, the few times we do say something, you always call me Squat,” I replied, angrily.

“Oh, that makes sense...”

“Yeah, it does.”

“So should we go, like register then?”

“Now?” I asked, “Lenora’s just registered. She’ll want to have a party and stuff. We should wait until afterwards.”

“Couldn’t we just not register and be single forever?” Alexander asked hopefully.

“And what, never have sex?”

Alexander snorted. “Like I want to have sex with you.”

“Well better me than no one.”

He paused, realizing I had a point.

“Okay, lets wait until after the party to register,” Alexander agreed, changing the subject back to Lenora.

Alexander fidgeted with the sheet nervously. For a good ten minutes there was silence, and then Alexander looked up. “You know, I’ve never kissed a girl,” Alexander confided.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m so surprised,” I said sarcastically.

“What? You’ve probably never kissed a boy either,” Alexander said.

I frowned, damn him, always ruining things. “Whatever,” I spat.

There was more silence. Finally, Alexander said, “well maybe we should.”

“Should what?”

“You know, kiss.”

I scoffed at him. “Why?”

“Well, we’re gonna have to kiss eventually,” Alexander replied.

“Well yeah,” I said, “but I’ve only just met you, shouldn’t we wait until we know each other more?”

“What, and hate each other more?” Alexander asked.

“I don’t hate you,” I said, only partially truthfully.

“You’re a liar, Squat,” Alexander said.

I bit my lip. Part of me really wanted to kiss him, he was just so gorgeous, but a more sane part of me wanted nothing to do with those lips that spat such ugly truths. My hormones prevailed. I got up from my bunk and sat next to him. “Fine,” I said. Alexander didn’t grin with elation as I had foolishly hoped he would. Instead there was a mix of excitement and revulsion. He seemed to realize that this ugly face would be the only thing he would ever kiss. Finally, he leaned in. I placed my lips on his.

It was an awkward tangle of lips, tongues and spit. Although the kiss itself was quite horrible, I found myself enjoying it, my whole body warming. When I pulled away, I stared at my lap, not wanting to make eye contact. Finally, I looked up, and noticed a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That was awful,” he said, still grinning slightly.

“Yeah,” I agreed, studying my fingers.

“But I kind of liked it.”

“Me too.”