Chapter Text
The games were a weird thing.
Every year, on January 1st, at exactly noon sharp, they would carry out the Selection: the names of every single person in a 10-mile radius of the nearest Round would be added to the draw, and each person over the age of 12 was eligible to join one of three houses in the game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Only one was chosen, and only one received the chance to participate in the research, with a million dollars in cash as the prize if they managed to return to society after joining.
And, this year, Foldy Flipps, number 137945, was part of the nervous crowd who were eligible to join.
The small girl stood in the crowd, only just able to see above the heads around her despite being near the front.
Last year’s draw had been cancelled, January 1st allegedly being the 13th birthday of the founder of the game’s - Mr Scribe’s - son.
Foldy had been spared last year.
January 1st.
Right, today was her birthday.
Foldy Flipps was 14.
She tugged at her short teal hair with her prosthetic hands, looking up to the podium where Mr Scribe was standing.
A pale girl stood by him as he introduced the Selection, her short silver hair blowing gently in the soft breeze and her eyes covered by a pair of rectangular glasses. She stood unmoving next to a taller boy, who fidgeted with the tablet in his hands. Both looked to be about her age, though possibly slightly older, and both had prosthetic arms.
Mr Scribe had found new assistants.
Foldy still remembered the last one, the one who’d worked for him up until last year - a tall-ish lady with delicate golden curls that framed her face and made her look like a perfect painting.
She’d talked to her once, when Mr Scribe had gone around on his annual visit to all the schools in the state, talking to everyone about the importance of the game.
“Without further ado, let the Selection begin!” Mr Scribe’s voice was collected, cold and calm, his blue-grey eyes calculating as he scanned the crowd.
The girl assistant held out a box, and Mr Scribe dug his hand into it, pulling out a slip of blue paper.
“This year we have…” He unfolded the slip, and Foldy watched his face fall as he read out the number on it. “Number… 137945?”
Foldy froze as the sound of the crowd died down, replaced with hushed mumbles.
Number 137945.
She was number 137945.
“Ladies, gents and everyone else, please give a round of applause for… MARKER SCRIBBLES!” The forced enthusiasm in Mr Scribe’s voice was evident, but Foldy wasn’t focused; all her attention diverted to that final name.
Marker Scribbles.
What?
Foldy blinked, her body shaking.
She watched as a lanky boy approached the podium, his fingernails coated in a layer of purple nail polish and his face studded with freckles. The tips of his dark brown hair were dyed the same shade, and he wore a darker purple beanie.
He stopped next to Mr Scribe, his eyes wide and pleading.
Foldy glanced back at the assistants, noticing the guy had stopped fidgeting with his tablet and was instead showing something to the girl. She shook her head, taking off her silver glasses as she waved her other hand at him. He shrugged, running a hand through his short, chartreuse yellow hair and pushing his own red-rimmed glasses onto his nose.
Mr Scribe was still talking, seeming to be attempting to stall the Selection for as long as possible, when the girl approached him, standing on the tips of her toes as she tapped his shoulder.
He turned around, and she said something to him, and, although Foldy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, she knew they were talking about her.
About how her number was also 137945, just like Marker Scribbles’s.
“Apologies, everyone, but I’d like to request your attention for one last moment!” Mr Scribe clasped his hands together, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Due to there not being a Selection last year, there will be two Selecteds joining the Round this year!” He picked up the slip of paper he’d drawn out earlier. “Foldy Flipps, number 137945, will be our second Selected.” Mr Scribe took a quick breath, eyeing Foldy from the podium. She shrank under the weight of his gaze. “Both Selecteds, you may have the rest of the day to pack some necessities. Guards will be sent to your homes to collect you at midnight.”
~
Foldy leaned against the front door of her room - her old room - and stared at the mess before her.
Her parents weren’t home. They’d left her a note on the door of her room, telling her they were going to visit her older siblings.
Her origami paper was on the ground, the intricate designs that used to be printed on it fading with time. She’d forgotten to put them away last time, and her younger brother had snuck into her room. He’d scattered them everywhere.
Foldy picked up one of the sheets, admiring the delicate etchings of leaves across it.
She’d thought she’d have at least another year here, at least another year of visits from her elder siblings, and at least be old enough to be able to call her younger brother annoying without guilt.
Foldy sighed, picking up a small teal rucksack - her favourite.
Her father had gotten it for her during one of his many business trips, and she’d cherished it for years.
It was also her favourite for… other reasons.
She stacked up some of the origami paper, bundling the sheets together with a rubber band.
Once, twice, three times.
Three times for good luck, as Eraser used to say.
Foldy chuckled at the thought.
She put the bundle of paper aside, then opened her closet and took out some plain white T-shirts and a couple of pairs of shorts. Mr Scribe had told them to bring necessities, after all. Foldy chucked in her favourite hairclip, pinning it to the outside of her bag to make it easier to identify if she lost it.
Anything else?
Pencils? Too easy to weaponise, especially if they are sharp. Foldy knew they’d be confiscated from her immediately.
Elastics? Foldy grabbed her small container of teal hair ties. She knew how to flick them at people, which may be a good way to defend herself if the Round was anything as she expected. She tossed the cylindrical container into her bag.
One of her stuffed animals? Foldy hesitated, before choosing her stuffed crane. Her oldest sibling - her older sister - had brought it for her the first time she’d met her, and Foldy remembered distinctly that her mother helped her choose its name. Unnoyoi. Foldy was pretty sure ‘Unnoyoi’ was a Japanese word (her mother was very proud of her heritage, as she should be), but she wasn’t certain. Foldy never learned to speak Japanese.
She grabbed a piece of string, tying it around Unnoyoi’s neck and adding a small tag. Foldy opened one of her notebooks and stared at the characters in it.
運のよい.
Unnoyoi.
Lucky.
Foldy copied the characters onto the stuffed bird’s tag, her writing shaky and messy. ‘運のよい, return to Foldy Flipps if found.’
If found.
Her rucksack was barely full, but Foldy couldn’t think of anything else to add to it.
Nothing that wouldn’t immediately get confiscated, at least.
She filled in the final gaps with a few more accessories and other gifts she’d gotten over the years: A small frog taba squishie on a hairclip, a waving cat phone case she’d never found use for, a coin on a string, a colourful little dreamcatcher, a book about folding origami-
Was that really everything?
Foldy tapped her chin. “Oh, right!” She grabbed her stack of origami paper, turning it around in her hands.
SNAP-
“Damn it-!”
The papers spilled onto the floor, and Foldy hurried to pick them up, fumbling with the snapped rubber band in her hands. As she did, a few of the sheets crumpled slightly, and she cursed under her breath.
She shoved her hand into the drawer of her desk, digging around for any spare rubber bands.
None.
Foldy sighed, grabbing a watch and checking the time. It was only 8 o’clock, and the sun had only just properly set.
She put on her bag, headed down to the front door and waited.