Skarx

Chapter 1-Changing Myself

I shivered in the cold wind, wishing I'd brought a jacket, or at least worn long sleeves. With the Earth's unstable false atmosphere, the temperature could be 45 degrees Celsius one day and 2 degrees the next.

Despite the fact that it was part of the skarx that I tried so hard to avoid, I couldn't help despising the cold. I hated the way those little icy needles prickled under your bare skin, and that tingling feeling you got when the wind passed by, like it was tickling you with thin, icy fingers. In my head I imagined the wind as a pale, almost snowy white being with long, spidery fingers covered in frost. I imagined a lot of things in my head.

It was one of those days that chilled you to the bone, but there was not a single fleck of white on the ground. Snow made the cold worth it. I hated cold weather, but I absolutely adored those little white specks, tiny but full of joy and fun and happiness. The way I saw it, every little flake of snow was a memory, whether it was a memory of building a snowman with family in the backyard, or the laughter of friends during a snowball fight, or even just a memory of the day it snowed. Someone's story in every snowflake. But today, there was not a single one.

I heard the telltale whoosh and felt the slight blast of wind that could only belong to an approaching airmotor, and was careful to back up to the side of the airway. My mother always said that the air compressors underneath an airmotor could squash you flat if you were stupid enough to stand beneath one.

This particular airmotor was very familiar. It was painted baby blue, with swirls, hearts, splotches, stripes, polka dots, you name it, all in different colors of resilient paint designed specifically so that it would not peel off of an airmotor as it travelled at high speeds. The vehicle belonged to my best friend, Xenia Davidson. Or her family, anyways.

The hatch on the side of the airmotor, painted bright green, slid open with a slight pop as it seperated from the great hunk of metal. Xenia skipped out, her dark hair pulled back into a messy braid. Somehow she wore a black sleeveless shirt and managed not to freeze.

"I see you passed," I remarked, gesturing at the airmotor.

"Yep," she replied. "I finally got my license on the third try. Now she's all mine."

"Cool," I mumbled. "Well, we'd better get going."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Xenia asked, looking concerned.

"I've told you a million times already," I responded, sighing. "I have to try."

Xenia averted her dark brown eyes, but I knew what she was thinking. I knew what everyone thought. Even my best friend thought I was crazy to do it. To try and change myself.

Our silence grew long and awkward. There was not a sound to be heard but the slight whooshing of the cold wind that tossed my hair and brought up goosebumps on my bare arms. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to break the tension.

"Let's go," I said as cheerily as possible, trying my best to act as if we were just going to the SkyMall or somewhere to hang out. It would be easier for both of us if we could at least pretend that was what we were doing.

I climbed in the hatch after Xenia. The interior of the Davidsons' old airmotor was the very opposite of the atmosphere outside. Everything was bathed in a warm glow from the little colorful lights that were strung across the walls and ceiling. A couple of old, colorful bean bags that Xenia hadn't cleaned out yet sat in the corner, so I flopped down on one while Xenia headed to the driver's seat in the front.

The ride was jerky and a bit nauseating, but I couldn't blame Xenia. Though she had her driver's license, she was still just a beginner. That was the one thing I had to look forward to when I turned 16-getting my license and being able to drive my very own airmotor. Perhaps not one as big and comfortable as Xenia's, which she had inherited from her family, being the oldest, but I didn't really care.