Next one: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1163510348 For context im writing/wrote this book for school by taking an online course. Not all of it is revised please send feed back abt the character arc. (this will be published irl) Chapter one Leif sprang up, breaking through the water’s surface. He gulped in air as water streamed down his face. He quickly climbed out of the pool to watch the next person dive. They had very good posture as they leapt gracefully into a dive. One by one each of his classmates dived, some with near perfection and others who would be staying in this class for a couple more years. All around him swimmers chatted with their friends. All of them were much older than Leif. He still stood tall and steady. Finally the last person crawled out of the pool. They walked in a single file-line to receive their report cards. His swim coach, Mrs. Boue, gave him a small, proud smile as she gave him his card; perfect scores. Leif grabbed his towel and walked out of there. He walked the long white illuminated halls trying to avoid the rush of crowds coming from various departments. Step. Step. Step. Drip. Drip. Drip. His wet white and gray clothing covered every part of him but his neck, head, hands and feet which were covered by his dark blue water shoes. He glued his eyes to the floor, he knew the way home by heart he didn't need to look where he was going. He gripped around the items in his hands. In one hand he had his report card from his teacher, in the other a wet towel he would return in two days. People pushed and shoved around him trying to go to the places they needed to go. A metal door loomed over Leif, above it read ‘291 h62’, to the side of the door was a mail slot; home. Leif left the illuminated halls and entered his house. It was very nice there, well it always had been to him at least. Next to the door was a tiny pale wood table that caught mail and contained a mail-player. In the living room sat a dark gray-blue sofa, a coffee table made of the same wood as the mail table, and a radio on top of the table. In the kitchen sat another table -also made of the same pale wood as the other tables- with two chairs on opposite sides. On the other side of the kitchen was the fridge, the oven which connected to the counter and the cabinets. On the counter was a coffee pot his mom didn't use. Leif glanced at a door that led to his mother’s room, his mom was at work and wouldn’t return for another hour. He went to his room and changed into dry clean clothes; Still white with gray accents, still covered most of his body. He slipped a pair of white socks in his cold bare feet and flopped down on his bed. He looked around his room. It was small and messy, report cards everywhere, his wet towel hanging on the back of his small office chair. He eyed his metals hanging off his bookshelf. Hanging on the wall next to him was a piece of decorated paper, an award paper from last year; ‘Best in Class of 2188, level 14, Awarded to Erik L. Anderson (12)’. Leif was 13 now, though he never went by Erik (his first name), he liked the sound of Leif better. His mom and other adults called him Erik but his friends called him Leif. sadly he had no friends so everyone called him Erik anyway. He glared at his mirror sitting up on his bed. His messy dark brown hair covered his eyebrows, his eyelids drooped over dark gray eyes. And then there was his skin, it was delicate and a sickly pale color somewhere close to white. Of course everyone was pale though. There was no sun in the underground bunker. It seemed stupid to call it a bunker; it was more like an underground city or labyrinth considering the halls upon halls.what waIit like above the bunker? No one knew. You read and read about it but you would never experience being there. “Erik!” Leif jolted awake. He had dozed off thinking about the past… again. This had happened many times. He massaged around his eyes. “Erik, I'm home!” It was his mother. He got out of bed patting his hair down which was easily tamed. His mom was in the kitchen pulling two nutrient bars and a bowl of jam out of the fridge. He sat down and slowly unwrapped his nutrient bars. Leif nibbled on the side of the bar and shuddered. “Honestly, Erik, they’re not that bad,” his mother complained while her bar remained untouched, “Try some jam with it, if it’s really that bad.” He liked jam sauce as much as the nutrient bars, but he didn’t argue as he managed to gulp down half the jam covered bar. Noticing his mother eying the other half he quickly said, “I’m not that hungry.”
(CONTINUED) “Erik-” his mother started but stopped at the sound of mail being delivered. “Go… go check the mail.” Leif picked up the three small black disks off the mail table and pulled out the mail-player (a box around four inches wide and long and 1 inch thick) from inside the table drawer. As he walked back to the kitchen he inserted one disk into the box at a time, pressing the button ‘read’ on the side and viewing them; first one was junk mail, he chucked it in the trash. Second one was a bill with name Angela Anderson at the top, he set that down by his mother. The third one was- Leif’s brow furrowed as he read the name at the beginning; Erik Anderson. his mother said something about bills but leif was focused on the player. “uh.… yeah, sure,” He responded, the player in his hand. “Erik!” she snapped. “What?” He shook his head and stared at his mother. “Could I have the mail-player?” she said slowly, “I need to pay my bills.” He ignored her but said, “hey mom take a look at this piece of mail; it's for me.” “Erik…” she said, rubbing her face. He set the player in front of her and she looked up, straightening her back. “Oh.” His mother ran her eyes down each line. Her eyes widening at some point. Finally she looked up and opened her mouth, “you’re invited to an artifact exploration program.”
