kelincihutan:

caffeinewitchcraft:

writing-prompt-s:

Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.

He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.

Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.

Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?

It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.

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Pete and Jane Carson were poor, so poor, and lived so far out away from town that they had trouble managing to earn many Parent Points.  The points were awarded very strictly, and since their truck was…third-hand at least, well, they didn’t always make it everywhere exactly on time.

But they were so in love, and so enthusiastic about it, that as soon as they managed to reach that magical hundredth point, they practically ran to the Ward Building.

The lady took down their information and showed them all the brochures and read them all the disclaimers with a distinct air of disdain.  It was obvious she thought no one had any business taking in any child worth less than a thousand points.  Still, there was nothing to stop them from doing it–at least, nothing she could legally get away with–so she showed them to the hundred-point children.

It was agony making a choice.  There were so many children there, and they were all so obviously in need of help.  But one boy, the oldest and he was probably about seven, pointed them to a tiny child who’d been very sick lately and explained that the heat in the room didn’t work very well, and so when the little ones got sick, their tiny bodies sometimes couldn’t work hard enough to keep them warm and get them better.  There was a look in his eyes that said sometimes there had been sick children who’d been eventually taken away and hadn’t been brought back.

So they took the sick child, whose name was Jakob, and gave him a home in their big, rickety farmhouse so far away from town, but they agreed.  “That’s our next child.”

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