Five Star Reviews for Atlantis Academy:
"Omg this book was amazing I couldn't put it down or stop reading. I carried it with me open on my phone while I did everything just to keep reading. I need more of all of this. Epic story, epic content, epic...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
What's the meaning of life?
I've been asking myself that question a lot lately.
We're born, forced through a one-size-fits-nobody school system, work nine to five, save enough money to retire—if we're lucky—and then we die.
If we're not lucky... We just work 'til we're dead.
I don't see the point.
I also don't see any alternatives. As far as I can tell, there's no escaping this ride, unless you wanna be homeless. Cold, starving, desperate. That's my future if I stop working my ass off. I'm barely hanging on as it is. I don't want my life to get any worse.
The church bell rings in the distance.
Oh, no!
I'm late for work. How am I late for work?
I pick up my pace, running up the steep sidewalk, sucking down huge lungfuls of the sea-salt-tinged air. My thighs are burning as I reach the end of the road and begin weaving my way through the forest of young Redwood trees. My heart's hammering against my ribcage in a staccato rhythm, punctuating the sing-song words in my head.
Gonna get fired. Gonna get fired. Gonna get fired.
You're gonna get fired, Lyric. Then what will you do?
I can't afford to lose this job! Half the town's unemployed, so being employed makes me one of the lucky ones. Well... "lucky" might be a stretch. My mom's boss felt bad for me when she died, so he gave me her job.
That's right, important life lesson alert. Contrary to popular belief, life isn't a meritocracy. I inherited my waitressing job. Don't everyone get jealous at once.
Hey, maybe that church bell's wrong. Maybe I'm not late.
I come to a dead stop, fumbling through my windbreaker's pockets for my phone. A drop of sweat slides into my eye.
Where. Is. My. Phone?
Found it.
It's in the back pocket of my jeans, nearly falling out from my run through the woods. I glance at the display.
Crap. My phone agrees with the church bell.
I shove it into my coat pocket with my wallet and keys, zip it shut, and start running again.
So late!
I'm always late, so why would today be any different? I need a damn watch. I think that every day, but do I get a watch? No way. That would require me to plan something and follow through. Ha.
Other people seem to feel time passing. They just effortlessly arrive where they need to be, at the right time, as if by magic. Not me. No, ma'am. My brain continually hijacks me and flies me off to la-la land, where time has no meaning.
