THE DOMINANCE GAMES

CHAPTER 1

ENTRY NO. 1
1405 HOURS S.W.T (STANDARD WESTERN TIME)
C-6 IMPERIAL SECTOR: THE ACADEMY
I'M SITTING IN THE BACKSEAT OF MY  BROTHER'S JEEP
45'C INDOORS
_ _ _ _  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I'm sitting in the backseat of my brother's military jeep staring out of it's tinted window. Again.

This time, instead of a looking out at a gloomy quad, I watch the bunch of upperclassmen (all at least 2 years older than me) who hang around the main courtyard swinging bats, playing long rounds of T-ball.

Lucky ducks.

Several of them - who am I kidding?- all of them saw me being yanked out of my 12:00pm drill class (today’s lesson: how to lock and unlock the ZX-621 mission box) two hours ago by the menacing Dean Hudges himself.

And whenever anything of that magnitude happens, you can bet that the news spreads to every student faster than the eximo virus.

Today's screamer: Ant is up to her little ant-ics again.

Ant-ics. Catchy title right?

The upperclass students came up with it last year. I'm like a ghost to them. Talked about, gossiped, duscussed - never really talked to.

The jeep is quiet except for a faint hum coming from the air-conditioning unit. In the past 5 minutes I’ve managed to memorize and recite every minor detail of this car out of boredom (hand-cut black leather seats imported from capital 3, 32 square inch steering wheel, 30mm of grey drapes hanging on either side of the windows acting as curtains, a 3-inch screen on the back of the seats with the sound muted and a headline that reads: “PREPERATIONS BEGIN FOR DOMINANCE ISLAND” followed by “CAPITAL 6: DON'T MISS THE PATRIOT PARADE TOMMOROW”).

By now Ms. Ears is probably seated behind her oakwood desk, tapping on its glass with her long stiletto nails—no doubt finished typing up my suspension report right about now.

This will be my 3 suspension this semester. I bet I’m the only Academy student who’s ever managed to get eight reports in a year ( not counting the minor ones) without being expelled.

Who’s the lucky duck now?

I think back to the half hour I spent being reprimanded by Dean Hudges.  Let's just say a few of his 'inspirational' words stuck to me like glue.

"Get something straight, Ant," He spat. "You may think you are better than all the other students in this school because of your high placing  level. But I’ve grown incredibly tired of your silly little stunts tarnishing the reputation of the Academy, and believe me, when you finally graduate and leave this place your little ant-ics won’t impress your superiors. Do you understand me?”

I nodded my head, but only because It was what it took to get me out of his office.

The truth is I don't understand. And I don't think the dean does either. Because as much as he hates to admit it, I haven't tarnished the standards of his proud Academy (Well, not yet anyways)- I am the standard.

I’m the only person in the entire Orient with a perfect 1500 score on her placing tests. I was assigned here, to the capital's top Training Academy for the wealthy on a full  scholarship at 6 years old - something no one from a sector like ruby was able to do for... well, ever!

I have the I.Q level of over a HUNDRED average upper-classmen’s  put together, and I’m a 100% rank student.

I contain what most people considered good genetics. And the better your genetics are, the better your chances are of a bright future, my teachers always tell me.