A flicker of white fluorescent lights accompanied by a blaring robotic voice repeating "wake up" is the last thing I want this morning. Or, I thought it was until my mattress flips sideways and ejects me onto the carpet. Yeah, that takes the cake.
It's effective for waking me up, I'll give them that. It's also effective for creating a very small, very angry, half-asleep Arden.
A box of tailored uniforms arrives with my schedule, a black backpack of school supplies, and breakfast. Three sets of each uniform patiently wait in the box: the pale grey-blue hospital-like clothing for classes and the stretchy black tank top and leggings for afternoon training.
My schedule is separated into two parts: the "A" morning and "B" morning. I pick up one sheet in each hand and glance between them, noticing the difference in classes:
A Morning:
Breakfast Period: 6:15-6:45
English: 7:00-8:15
Chemistry: 8:15-9:30
Recess: 9:30-10:45
Calculus: 10:45-12:00
Lunch Period: 12:00-1:30
Training and Apocalypse Defence Education: 1:30-4:00
Homework Time: 4:00-6:30
Dinner Period: 6:30-7:30
Curfew: 10:00
B Morning:
Breakfast Period: 6:15-6:45
History: 7:00-8:15
French: 8:15-9:30
Recess: 9:30-10:45
Biology: 10:45-12:00
Assembly: 12:15-12:30
Lunch Period: 12:30-1:30
Training and Apocalypse Defence Education: 1:30-4:00
Homework Time: 4:00-6:30
Dinner Period: 6:30-7:30
Curfew: 10:00
The tailored uniforms fit me much better than the samples; the pant legs end at my ankles, the shoes don't slip on my feet, and the sweater-type shirt properly hugs my body. Though the sleeves at my wrists, I roll them up to my elbows and pull my hair back into a high ponytail.
At six forty, Adams and my regular crew come to collect me and bring me down to my first class. As she explains, there are two classes that happen at the same time, and twelve classes in total. Each student has to take a class from the Ministry of Education required courses, but the classes range based on each student's interests. The younger students, she tells me, used tutors during their earliest years at the institute to catch them up to the older students, the majority of which are now my age.
Again, I'm one of the first to arrive in the classroom, a long but narrow space with black marble floors speckled with white and windows facing the Fog outside. About ten screentop desks are evenly spaced across the floor, facing a whiteboard and teachers' desk at the front of the room. I squint my eyes. Yes, that is a taser on the teachers' desk.
The teacher arrives shortly after me, a wiry, angular woman with a sharp chin and judgmental brown eyes. She introduces herself as Ms. Hawke. A fitting name.
YOU ARE READING
Dawn of Fog and Glass
Teen FictionThose who expose themselves to the Fog for over an hour begin to change. Most devolve into mindless, bloodthirsty creatures known as Fog Crawlers. Some remain human. The others, the mostly-extinct Morphs, develop supernatural abilities and a scent t...
