When will love go extinct?

Part 1. Chapter 1:The mystery of love

I feel a slight tap on my shoulder, to feel my brother, Jack, is trying to wake me up, on a Saturday morning. "Jessica, wake up!" he says with a concerned voice. "Isn't it Saturday? I'm going back to bed," I say while covering my head with my bedsheets. "It's important! Today is the day of the festival! The one you promised me we would go together!" "Can't it wait? I'm tired." "No! If we go now, we can get to the food trucks and buy stuff before it sells out," he says while thinking about food. "Aren't you 16 years old? You can go by yourself," I say annoyed. "Ughh, fine," he says while walking to the door. As he turns the handle, I realize that I was supposed to take a photo of the festival lights at night, for a school project. "Okay, okay, I'll go," I say while getting off of my bed and walking over to my dresser. "Okay, I'll wait for you outside," he says while walking out of my room. I get dressed, brush my teeth, braid my hair, and grab my camera bag while closing my room door. As I walk down the stairs, I see pictures of me and Jack. One picture is of him getting a badge from boy scouts. His first badge. Jack's been in boy scouts for a long time, taking the name "Eagle scout''. Another is of me graduating from middle school. I was so excited about going to high school, that I took the microphone from a teacher, and said what I was going to be when I grow up. I was probably in eighth grade at the time too. Now here I am, in my sophomore year, with my little twin brother. I finish walking down the steps to see my parents are gone. My mom and dad are both doctors for a scientific lab company with the name of Plt Gateway. A lab industry that does local experiments in our community. I don't know what they're here for, but as long as I don't get involved, I'll be fine. I grab my car keys and open the door. But before I close it, I look into the house. I look at it for a good 6 seconds, when I hear Jacks's voice. "What's the holdup? Aren't you coming?" I close the door and lock it, expecting to come back to it later today.

NOTE: I am a fourteen-year-old boy, with the fantasy of writing. I love writing stories, if not professionally, then basic. I really do want to continue this story, but only if you readers want to know what happens later on.