We're Still Fighting (A Zombie Apocalypse Story)

Chapter 1 - Lies

 I'm going to dedicate this story to every single one of my classmates!!!! (at least the ones with wattpad accounts) yaay!! (wtf?) please don't mind the words in the parentheses, that's my stupidity speaking.

THIS IS DEDICATED TO OUR EDITOR-IN-CHIVES (yes, chives. Problem?) out_of_focus!!!!! go fan her!!!!

Lol, this is the next chapter, a little more background about the protagonist... I've only written two (prologue and this) please comment and tell me what you think!!!!

 GUISE, DIS WAS EDITED, K? :D

Lies

What do you get when you have a business man and a survival expert who both like to travel, more than enough money and too little time?

Me.

My dad is a business man, and my mom is a survival expert. They are both daredevils in their own way, and boy, did they like their freedom.

See, my dad’s family owns a company. It has something to do with stuff that hikers and other adrenaline junkies use, like travel gear, backpacks and so many other things that I don’t really care about. Then he met my mom, survivalist extraordinaire. She had a show about survival in hostile environments, and she became an endorser of my dad’s products.

They got married and had me, but they were too busy to take care of me. So they had Hugh, my sort of butler/”nanny” take care of me. He taught me a lot of things, from the alphabet and counting to a hundred at three years old, tying my shoelaces at four, how to braid and riding  a bike at five, dancing and how to throw a punch at six, gymnastics and cooking at seven… well you get the point. Hugh taught me almost everything I know.

My parents, well, they decided to send me to boarding school as soon as I was old enough to be sent to school; I was five, when they sent me to Nursery Class in Kammer Academy—I came home only during summers, except for a few summers when I decided to take extra credits for school while it was still early.

Yep. I spent almost all my life in here.

During my early years in Kammer, my parents would visit me for a day during Christmas. Then they’d tell me that they have to go to a faraway place to work.

I believed that lie for three years, until one day I snuck into the principal’s office and heard him talking to my parents.

“I have to agree with you, Mr. Ride,” Principal Hertzog had said, “Lilac is a smart child. Very independent for her age, too—which is what I’m worried about.”

“Is there something wrong, Principal Hertzog?” my dad asked, “Is Lilac in any trouble?”

“No, no, no,” Hertzog said, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I have noticed that she tends to act mature for her age. Too mature, in fact, that she built a six-foot wooden catapult yesterday and started a water-balloon fight.”

Hey, I liked learning how to do stuff. All kinds of stuff. That’s why my classmates call me a Jack-of-all-trades.