The Declaration

flickered over to Peter and met his, and they stared at each other for a few seconds, before Anna managed to pull her eyes away.

Chapter Four
    11 February, 2140
    The new Surplus is ‘difficult’. He thinks he’s better than a Surplus, thinks he’s better than me. And he’s not. He’s quite stupid, actually, and he lies all the time. He’s already been in Solitary twice, and frankly I think he should be kept down there.
    He doesn’t Know His Place and he thinks it’s OK to whisper things during training sessions when it isn’t at all. He said he wasn’t Surplus Peter; that he was called Peter Tomlinson, like he was Legal or something. And he told me my name was Anna Covey and that he knows my parents. I mean, how stupid is that? Everyone knows that Surpluses don’t have more than one name, and that my parents are in prison where they belong. What – so he grew up in prison with them? Yeah, right. He’s a troublemaker, just like I thought he’d be. And he’s lying, just to get some attention. Like Sheila did when she first arrived.
    It shows what happens when they don’t catch Surpluses early enough. Shows how lucky I am to have come to Grange Hall when I did. The way he walks, you’d really think he was Legal. You’d think the world belongs to him, when the truth is he’s got no right to be here, like the rest of us.
    There was another boy here once before who didn’t fit in either. His name was Patrick and when he arrived he cried all the time, even though he was virtually a Middle and should have been more grown-up than that. He was always in Solitary or getting beaten, because when he wasn’t crying he was arguing with the Instructors, telling them that he wanted to go home, that his parents were going to find him and that then Mrs Pincent would be sorry. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he refused to listen. Mrs Pincent says that sometimes Surpluses find it hard to adjust and don’t like to ‘face facts’. He thought he was better than the rest of us, Mrs Pincent said. He only stayed a few weeks and then they took him away. Mrs Pincent said that he was going to a detention centre, where they could deal with people like Patrick better, where he wouldn’t interfere with our training. If Peter isn’t careful, he’ll end up going there too. Mrs Pincent said that they have to do hard labour all the time in a detention centre. And that the boys don’t even get one blanket, even when it’s really cold. It was for Patrick’s own good that he went there, Mrs Pincent said. If he didn’t learn how to be a Surplus, he’d never find employment, and then what would he do?
    Yesterday, Peter was put in Solitary because he told Mr Sargent that it was old people who were Surpluses, not us. None of us could believe it when he said that and I’ve never seen Mr Sargent so angry. He didn’t even go red – he went white instead and the vein on his forehead started throbbing. I think he was going to beat him, but then he decided to call Mrs Pincent instead and Peter was taken away to Solitary. The worst thing of all was that he winked at me as they took him out. Like it was really cool to be put in Solitary.
    He came out this evening, but I’m not sure it taught him anything, because he still grinned at me stupidly across Central Feeding, like we were friends or something. Peter isn’t my friend. I wish Mrs Pincent would send him away so things can get back to normal around here. Or even better I wish Mrs Sharpe would decide that she wants me as her permanent housekeeper, to go around the world with her and keep her house spotless and clean. I wish she’d take me a long way from here.
    Anna carefully closed her journal and secreted it back on to the ledge behind the bath. Already it felt like a close friend, a confidante. When she’d been little, she and the other Surpluses in her dormitory used to talk to each other, sometimes late into the night, sharing secrets and thoughts. But then Mrs Pincent had appointed her Dormitory Monitor, which meant that she had to report any secrets or wrongdoings of anyone in the dorm. It hadn’t taken long for her former friends to stop taking her into their confidence and ever since then she’d become used to walking into a room and seeing groups of people breaking up, whispered conversations halting. She didn’t care, she told herself proudly; it was more important to be a good Surplus. Surpluses weren’t supposed to spend time whispering to each