The Color of Equality

What if the world was a place of total peace?
*Note* This is just a first draft and a novel I *absolutely will finish so please, please critique. The harsher the better, but please be constructive. For every problem that you spot please offer ways you think it could be fixed or improved.

In my house, all is quiet. For it not to be quiet would be a sin. 

"Alexandra, you should go to school. You're late," my mother whispers.

I stare down at my plain white sneakers, the same color as the rest of my clothing. The same color as my world, I realize, as I look around our living room. Everybody's house is part of this pale regime - the color of equality. 

"What's the point?" I whisper back. It sounds more like a hiss. "All they teach about is our utter equality and peace. It's so boring and we just learn the same thing over and over again."

My mom's eyes narrow. I've crossed a line.

"You will go to school. To not do so is to not be fair to others, whom have to go to school every day. We should not even be having this conversation. It isn't peaceful."

Frowning, I know she's right. I should not disrupt the peace, even in our own house.

"Your father will drive you."

"Why?" I can't help but ask. "Not everyone has their father to drive them."

There aren't any buslines. Everyone has a standard four seater car. No car is better than the other. And they're all white, of course. No car is bigger than another because all families are almost exactly alike- At least one parent and always two children.

"Death cannot be helped. Now go."

I grab my white backpack and walk out to the car, where my father is already sitting. Though  almost everything is constricted, our looks can't be helped, and I think my father is quite regal looking- a straight, flat nose, dark green eyes, and orange hair. I love his hair, and as I get into the car I can't help but brush it with my fingers. It's the only thing with color in my home. 

Unlike his, my own hair is a pale blonde, inherited from my mother. However, I have his eyes, which seem striking with my equally as pale skin and lips. The only other noticeable feature I have is a smattering of dark freckles across my nose.

"This is your stop," he says, smiling. "As your chaffeur I shall escort you to your door, if you wish?"

I can't help but smile as I open the door.

"No, I'm fine. You have to go to work."

"I'll pick you up at three, then."

I shut the door and he drives away. I turn and face the huge previously white, but now gray with grime, building in front of me.

The End

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