"Riverton...Room 10."

"Thank you," I smile politely at the girl behind the counter, turning to leave.

"Wait--Um," she stutters. I face her. "Mr. Riverton?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember me? We talked breifly that one time before you went to see your parents." Nervously she adjusts her pencil skirt. "I said your speech was amazing."

I nod recalling our previous encounter, glancing around the room to eliminate the possibility of witnesses.

"Yes, well..." She anxiously bites her lip. "Don't tell anyone I said this, 'cause I'd get fired, but you're--you're very brave. I never expected you'd actually...do something. No offence."

"Your encouragement is much appreciated," I speak softly. "I am not offended. I did not much expect to do anything either."

"I don't think you understand what it means to us lower class," she keeps her voice low. "I'm considered 'mixed'; seeing you stand up for us like that makes me feel...worth something. Sometimes I can't help but feel worthless in this world. I can't imagine how the mutts feel." She pauses, looking down. "If there's anything I can do for you, I'd be glad to help."

I contemplate this.

"There is one small task," I speak. "If you could contact Sommer Rayne, she lives in the Class C community, and tell her..." I stop. "Never mind. I must go. Thank you for your encouragement."

I leave her quickly before she can question my actions.

A fool I am. Sommer must not know the true reason I have abandoned them. She would attempt to locate me and remove me from this situation. That would be highly dangerous.

I find room 10. Voices argue from behind the door.

"Nelson if you speak one word to him about what he has done..."

"Yes, yes."

"Where is that fool? The boy is late." I decide it is an appropriate moment to open the door. I startle them.

"The fool has arrived," I state, taking a seat in the single empty chair.

Mother exhales in annoyance, glaring at me from the corner of her eye. She has cut her hair so that it is a short bob, touching the bottom of her jaw.

"How are you Metro," she speaks, little emotion in her voice.

"Well. And yourselves?"

"We are well," she states. "Very glad to have you back, I am sure."

"I am not as sure," I speak beneath my breath.

She taps her fingers against the armrest, clenching her teeth.

"I have a question for you," I speak after a moment. She looks up slightly. My father glances at the both of us anxiously.

"Yes?"

"When you abandoned Titus," I start. "How did you expect he would turn out to be?"

Father's face alights with an expression of shock.

"Titus?" he stutters.

"Surely you could not have expected him to accept the ignorance of not knowing the identity of his parents," I continue, ignoring the heat spreading across my mother's face. "Surely you expected him to locate you at some point in his life."

My father turns to his wife, silently asking for her explaination. Her jaw remains set. She keeps her eyes to the floor.

"Metro, you could never understand." I am surprised at her soft tone. I have struck a nerve, and I quite enjoy it.

"I believe I do, in fact, understand," I remark. "Titus could not be the flawless Class A boy you had decided to have, purely for social reasons."

"Athena--"

"You would not be satisfied with him. There was not any room for imperfection."

"Metro..."

"Seeing Titus must have been quite traumatic, was it not? Seeing him so ordinary and not flawed."

"Seeing Titus?"

"Seeing that you were mistaken," my words step on that of my father's. "You must feel regretful about your actions."

"Athena." Father rises, breathing heavily. "I demand you address Metro's accusations."

My mother holds her head in her hands.

"To think," I continue regardless. "You accept this society, that condones such behaviour. Encourages it really. Where giving up your own child is acceptable, as long as he has some sort of defect that has the potential to eliminate the possibility of being the best," the anger in my voice reaches a climax.

"You saw Titus?" My father turns to me. For the first time I see emotion in his face, tears in his eyes.

I nod, feeling remorse for my harsh reaction. Seeing my father this emotional, and my mother sobbing, head in her hands, creates feelings of emotion within myself.

I have never seen my mother cry. Nor have I seen my father stand against my mother in such a way. It strikes great feelings in me. I feel regretful for hurting them, but remembering the pain they have caused Titus, and myself, creates these conflicting feelings of anger and satisfaction.

I long, above all else, for my parents to speak to me. All I wish for is a simple apology, no matter how plain or unsympathetic. All I ask is a single acknowledgment of the pain I have gone through, and the progress I have made.

"I am highly aware of your disappointment in me," I speak softly, after many moments of silence. "But truly, you should be proud. I have acted in a way that proves I am higher than the rest of this class. I have proved the ability to think logically for myself, rather than simply accepting what I am told. Does that not prove true greatness?"

I expect words of support, but they do not come. My father looks at me as though I should exit the room.

"It was his idea, it was Rupert's idea," my mother mumbles between sobs.

I exit, closing the door behind me.