Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drop of pristine liquid splashed forcefully onto the glossy surface of my second floor window. I cast a forlorn look to the eternal stretch of gray sky above me. The melancholy weather seemed to blanket over British Columbia, draping over the tallest skyscrapers and even the smallest cottages in Vancouver. Glancing to my left, an old-fashioned antique clock was propped on my mahogany nightstand that was made back in the the time of trains and ships. I rolled over to the right. My sleek steel desk was cluttered with gadgets and electronic devices ranging from a translator to a chip the size of glitter that stores terabytes of information.
7:46 am. The clock displays the time accurately, albeit the bumps and scratches. I lazily stood up and struggled into a black, ruffly blouse, a pair of skinny black jeans, and a heather gray blazer. A pair of black freshwater pearls dangling from my ears. To top it off, I slipped into my stiff new black leather boots. This was the required uniform of Sandford Academy. Being the school of the most talented and gifted people, the rules there are extremely harsh. Breaking the rules meant punishments. No one ever talks about them; this is another forbidden topic that gets you in trouble. The government is fairly lenient on the upper class. For the poorer, more unfortunate citizens, they are watched by hawks. Most of the wealthy population would report any signs of trouble, in exchange for special benefits and perks. No matter how much I find this disgusting, I have absolutely no power over the almighty government. Instead, I turn a blind eye towards the lower class and help them in any way I could.
Getting accepted into the academy was a huge honor and guarantees you a ticket to elite class of society. My family is a family of high expectations. Both of my parents graduated from Sandford Academy. Mom is now an accomplished CDA (Canadian Democracy Agent) working for the government. Dad is a well-known doctor, specializing in pediatrics.
I sighed, preparing myself for another hectic day at the academy. I scribbled a quick note for mom in my neat handwriting on the GloPad. As an afterthough, I shoved some white-chocolate macadamia nut cookies in my purse. I ran my fingers through my glossy dark brown hair.
"Ky, time to get movin'!" Dr. Chan yells from across the room. My full name is actually Kylen, but most people call me Ky or Kyla for short. His brown hair is messy; several stray strands sticks out in unnatural directions. In his hand, a cup of steaming coffee threatens to spill over the brim.
I flashed a thankful smile to my dad for bringing me back to reality. I made my way to the spacious lot behind the house. There, a sleek pearl white FlyBot awaits for me. I settled down in the cushioned seat, placing my palm on a blank white square. Instantly, the engine roared to life after the recognition of my hand print. After hitting a few simple commands, the vehicle disappears into the gray fog and fine mist without a sound.
***
Author's Note
Hi Wattpadders! This is my first story that I've tried to write. I have a general direction of what I want this to be like, but otherwise I have no clue what I am doing. PLEASE bear with me. I know that this chapter wasn't very exciting. I am still trying to develop the characters. Thanks to you all who is taking your time to read this! I might not be able to update very often...being in high school can be pretty crazy. Enjoy!!
Please comment on my story... I would really appreciate it! Anything from advices to critique... I am willing to improve (:
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Science FictionIn the futuristic Vancouver, Canada, Kylen Chan is the epitome of perfect. She's rich. She's smart. She's beautiful. She's talented. She's admired. There is no doubt that everyone wants to be like her. When she volunteers to help relief a nuclear d...
