Battle Royale. Officially known as The Program. The two words nobody in school everwants to hear, because once you're in this particular program, you only have one chance of coming out alive, and that is when all your classmates are dead.  We all know that it exists although we're not sure why, it's an urban legend whispered about in out of the way places and hinted at in the media.

Everyone knows what happens but almost noone knows the details, and the government likes to keep it that way. A few details are deliberately released-we know how the victims died but not who killed them. Once a year a class is chosen secretly by random lottery, and that class is abducted by the army and taken to a remote place where they are given random weapons and told to kill each other.

 The survivor is paraded in the media for five minutes of fame wearing a balaclava, and then is given a new house in another part of the country and a new name and pension and vanishes into obscurity. That much is made known, but the details of who killed who and the reason why this Program is done at all remain a secret.

 You might ask why every sixteen year old does not boycott school en masse if they know that they could be kidnapped at any time within the school year and made to fight their classmates to the death. First, protesting against this government always has bad and sometimes fatal results. Those who do tend to disappear for good. There are microphones fixed to the CC cameras in the street so that the police can hear one's every word- everyone knows that.

 Also, we all need to pass our exams to have a chance of getting a decent job, but lastly, nearly everyone thinks that it'll never happen to my class until it does. 

I thought it was a field trip until they introduced sleeping gas into the bus, and I woke up like the others with a metal collar clamped firmly around my neck. Surrounding the class, each of who now wore a collar like I did, were soldiers with their rifles drawn and fixed bayonets. At a table sat a plump and matronly woman who wore the badge of the government on her lapel. 

"Good evening, class 4C of Craigness Secondary School. You are the lucky ones chosen for the Program of 2007, and I am Mrs Verney, your instructor."

 It took a short time to sink in. Sooner or later one of my classmates is going to kill me, and I'm notgoing to come out of this alive. I'll never see my parents or my girlfriend again. I'm going to die here.

 The others must have been thinking the same way as me. Some of them screamed, two brothers broke down in tears and hugged each other, andanother, one of the tougher boys in the class, tried to attack the man and got a rifle butt smacked over his head for his pains. Then she told us the rules of the Program. 

"Listen up. First, don't pull at those collars, or they will explode and take your necks with them. You have three days starting from when you leave this building...to kill each other."

"You will each be issued with a bag containing two small bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, a pen, map of the island where you are, a torch and a random weapon. Every six hours I will announce two new danger zones-should you enter one of them your collar will explode, I will also tell you the names of the dead. Should more then one of you still be alive in seventy-two hours from now, then all your collars will explode and there will be no winner." 

"Two minutes after you leave this school, it and the area for fivehundred feet around it will become a danger zone, so if you were planning on getting your weapons, joining up and attacking us, you can forget it. You will fight each other, not the government. By the way, your parents have been informed of your fate." 

Thirty-one others. A one in thirty-one chance of life-there is no way a weakling like me can win this. Even if I get a gun, I'm not going to win, and they'll send me back to my parents in a coffin. My life is over. 

When she had finished and we were all staring at each other in horror she looked at me, smiled and said, "For you, a different fate awaits, if you choose to accept it. A fate that will allow you to stay alive." I nodded and there were howls of protest from the others.

 She turned to them. "Don't worry, the chances are that he'll fail and be sent out there with the rest of you, and even if he succeeds he'll probably wish he had chosen to fight. Now I am going to read your names in alphabetical order, which is the order in which you will leave the building once every two minutes. Once you go outside, you are fair game." 

I stood there and watched as my classmates walked out to what would be their deaths, glaring at me with hatred in their eyes. Some ran out as fast as they could, some strolled or strutted outside, one stuck his finger up at me. When the last of them had gone, the woman ordered the soldiers to leave the room and then turned to me and took me aside.

 "Listen up. The only reason why you are being given this chance to live is because my Program this year had to be one with a single-sex class. A couple of days ago I had an argument with my daughter, a really bad one. She...she jumped out of the car...whilst we were on the motorway. And..." She wiped a tear from her eye.

 "Somebody ran her over and didn't stop. I showed my Government Seal to the police when they arrived and used my position to prevent the accident being reported. I had my daughter quietly buried under another name. I told my husband that our daughter had gone to stay with friends for a couple of weeks as she had planned to do anyway. Three days later the police caught up with the driver and executed him on the spot, but of course that did not bring my daughter back. That's your job." 

"My job? I'm male, for a start." "I know, I would have much preferred a girl, believe me, but I gotlumbered with a single sex class for the Program this year. I can't wait another year, as there is no way that I could explain my daughter's absence to my husband. I love my husband, and if he learns what happened to our daughter, he'll blame me and he won't love me anymore. Which is where you come in."

 "You can be issued with a bag like the others have and go out there and who knows, you might even survive and return to your parents. Or you can live my daughter's life for her. As her, and I mean as her. You have the choice, go out and fight like a man, or accept a new life as my daughter." 

"I...I will do it rather then die, but I don't see how I can do itproperly." 

"Oh, don't worry, I'll train you properly. I want you to stay here with me and watch the Battle, in between intervals of training for your new life, so that you can view the deaths of your friends. Don't worry, you'll find new friends to replace them, my little Princess." 

Over the next three days, as my classmates fought and died outside, and as their bodies were recovered, Mrs Verney taught me my new role. First she taught me the basics, such as how to walk like a girl without overdoing it, and how to sit in a short dress without exposing myself and blowing my cover. I could hardly believe it that she was teaching me etiquette whilst my fellow classmates were out there fighting and dying but I held in my rage. 

"Walk tall, you're one of the elite now, with a great life ahead of you. When you meet your new father, you will tell him that you were hit by a car crossing the road and were in hospital for four days, but that you have fully recovered but that the doctors might want to check on you later."  

She drilled me as well and as repetitively as a sergeant drills his troops, making me walk with a book upon my head, teaching me how to walk like her daughter, how to adopt her mannerisms, how to answer any awkward questions and what her daughter thought politically. (Not, it must be added, that anyone in this country dares to talk about politics much.)

Then she told me who my friends were and who my boyfriend was. "I am not having a boyfriend! I'm not gay..." She took a control out of her pocket and my collar began to bleep. I knew what they could do because she had blown up an empty collar earlier in front of me. The explosion was not large but it was enough to sever a human neck. I got down on my knees and begged for her to spare my life, and she turned the collar off.

She snapped at me "I've known your boyfriend for years and he is a genuinely good person who really does love you for who you are. There is no danger of him mistreating you in any way, and anyway, I am not having a lesbian daughter. You will stay with him and make him believe that you love him. If you so much as wipe away one of his kisses and I find out about it, there will be trouble."

 In between bouts of training, she would give me the reports of how myclass were doing, and every six hours she would announce the deaths that had taken place over a microphone system that could be heard over the entire island. That night I considered trying to break the lock on the room that she had locked me into. But if I did somehow break down the door without being heard and escape from the building, I would be unarmed on an island that held multiple killers who would kill me as soon as they saw me.

 My stomach churned as I thought about having to be with my boyfriend-having to go out on dates with him, having to kiss him and cuddle him and tell him how much I love him despite feeling disgusted inside. And then an even more horrible thought came to me, that my mother would sooner or later arrange for me to have the surgery that would make me appear to be a real girl, so that my boyfriend could make love to me.

If that happened even if I escaped I could of course never have children of my own .I winced at the thought of being forced under the surgeon's knife and nearly requested to be sent out to fight there and then, but decided that Mrs Verney would most likely blow up my collar.

 Day one and two had been about all the little details but day three was worse. That was the day she dressed me up. After making me strip she made me put on a push-up bra with fake breasts inside and a kind of girdle that would make my body appear to have a female shape. She dressed me in a green shirt of the finest silk, with white trousers and long brown snakeskin boots.

 Then it was time for the jewellery. Amber clip-on earrings, an amber ring set in gold, an amber bracelet for each wrist, an amber necklace. Then to my relief she took off my collar. I thought of trying to knock her out, saw the pistol on her belt and decided against trying to fight. 

I'll play along, was what I thought, and the moment I get out of hereI'll flee to my parents and we can get out of town if need be. Then my new mother fitted a flat golden necklace to my neck.

 "This is a replica of the necklace your boyfriend gave to you-unlike the original version, it is not only explosive but it has a few other little things to keep you in line. It can shock you at the touch of a button, and I can use it in conjunction with a small hand held tracker to find out whenever you go. A little microphone attacked to the world's smallest recorder monitors everything you say, so I'll know if you try anything."

 "It's time for your make-up. My daughter didn't use much of it except at special occasions, but she used lipstick, and so will you." 

After shaving me and using foundation to cover any stubble she smoothed some pink lipstick on my lips, which felt all waxy, and I longed to wipe it away. My new mother carefully explained how to avoid putting on too much and looking like a clown, and placed a long brown wig upon my head. When I looked in the mirror I was unable to recognise myself. A young pretty well dressed girl stood there.

My mother handed me a white handbag. "You'll find in there everything you might need in a hurry." There was a knock on the door. "Come in." A sergeant walked in and saluted. "The Program is over, Boy #5, George Nichols, won the game with seven killings to his name.” "Bring him in." "What will happen to him?" I asked. 

"You know the drill. After being carefully checked for hidden weapons, he'll have a few minutes of fame in front of the press, wearing a balaclava. Then he and his family will be treated like key witnesses in cases against organized crime. They will be rehoused in another town under new identities with new, reasonably good, jobs, and he will get a pension and a signed card from the President. If he then speaks out and we find out about it, he will be conscripted and sent to where the fighting and dying never ends." 

I shivered when they brought George in. He had a small cut on his arm and a look of terrible sadness mixed with anger on his face. He looked me up and down but didn't recognise me as I had been disguised far too well. They dragged him out and my new mother told me to wait and left me alone.

 I fingered the golden necklace and checked out what was in my handbag. There were two lipsticks, a handkerchief, a mobile phone, a purse that was full of banknotes and also had a banker's card, various bits of junk and a diary, the one that I am writing in now. She came back to me. "Open your mouth, Eleanor."

I did so and she sprayed something into it that made me cough and choke for a while. "This will make you sound like my daughter." "What?" The voice that came out of my mouth was that of a girl my age. 

"It was meant for something else entirely, soothing sore throats, but wasnever put on the market because of the side effect of making males sound female. The Government kept a small amount of it in case it was ever needed for such a purpose. Now it's time for us to go home, your new father and boyfriend will be waiting for you." 

I must go now, my boyfriend is calling me to go out on a date with him.I'm dreading it. 

Thomas McGhie, known to all as Eleanor Verney.