Personal Narrative-Sacrifice

Like a chain reaction, her device went off and suddenly the rest of the student bodies did as well. Trigonometry had a strict no device policy, which meant she couldn’t check hers, although she could feel the stares of everyone in the class and the whispers that accompanied them.
In a world much like the one we find ourselves in today, yet incredibly technologically advanced, lived a system. A system in place by the government which categorizes people by popularity, using numbers. A device is given to you when you are five years of age, that is when it begins. Much like a smartphone, but thinner and for one use only, it controlled how people in the world saw you. All in one it had a phone option, a messaging service, a camera and the app

-Samantha
She rolled her eyes, Samantha was only a six and wasn’t allowed into her favorite coffee shop which requires a seven. She did not answer Samantha, as she herself would not have imagined being caught dead with only a six. Her locker, at the far end of the school, was where her and all her other friends ranked as a seven and equally obsessed with their ratings hung out. They all gleamed with satisfaction always, as everyone in West End wanted to be them. Samantha appeared out of nowhere, to which the conversations all stopped, as they all did not know why Samantha was in their area.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t text me back!”
“Well Samantha-”
“No, you’re so caught up in your own world you can’t even give me an answer. I thought you were nicer than this. We have been friends since we were three, but all of sudden when you became a seven, you forgot about poor old six Sam.”
She was taken aback to say the least, no one had ever called her out on her behaviour before.
“Come on,” she spoke softly, “you’re just being like psycho or something.” All her friends laughed with her, belittling Samantha.
Little did the group of seven’s know, Samantha struggled with mental health

Whitley, it was at a 5.6 a minute ago I swear!”
“I’m sorry, but the people have spoken. You must leave immediately. I will be transferring you to South End, where you can finish your studies.” He spoke with no remorse.
“South End? What the hell? I can’t go to South End, that school is for losers, for the people who are just above the popularity line. Mr. Whitley , you cannot send me there!” Getting worked up, tears fell from her eyes as Mr. Whitley called for security. The large officer, rated a 6, grabbed her flailing arms and covered her screaming mouth. Mr. Whitley turned his chair around, as a muffled “fuck you” left her mouth and entered his ears.
She arrived at home an hour later and to her surprise all her things were waiting for her on the porch. She was confused to say the least. Banging on the door, their nanny, Marley, only a mere four answered her knocks.
“Marley let me into my home.”
“I’m sorry Miss, I cannot do that. I am on strict orders from your parents to never let you back into this house.” Marley paused, snickering, “unless of course your rating got higher than mine.”
“So this is what this is about? My own family? Disowning me? And for what, a stupid fricken number?” The door shut in her face, her blood boiling with rage. She had entered somewhat of a downward spiral, or as her mother would say, losing her