A Brand New Day

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To have a talent in this world is to have a place in the world, and no-one has a more certain place in this world than the ultimate students. The people with talents so impressive that they prove hard-work won't always reap the best results.

The students with these levels of talents have the keys to true hope and mankind's future. That was the line of thinking surrounding the creation of Hope's Peak Academy; the home of these ultimate pupils, the gifted and more often than not, the stuck up. The creation of Hope's Peak Academy, of course, created friction with the students who didn't have such talents and those who work in professions where a pupil could do a better job. I mean who wouldn't be angry that a high-schooler could apparently do a better job than a professional who has been working on their skills for decades.

The creation of Hope's Peak just mocked these people and showed them how unfair the world could be, but then again, when has the world ever been truly fair to those who live in it.

A loud beeping sound first wakes you up from your slumber, but it is quickly silenced when you slam the top of the device. You roll over in your bed, keeping the covers wrapped tightly around your body; desperate to remain in the comfortable state of sleep forever. However, someone else had different plans. Your eyes start to drift closed again, but a loud banging at the door causes you to reawaken, groaning in response to the increase in volume. You pull the covers further over your head, trying to return to a blissful state of slumber. That is until an orange blur barrels into your room, pushing you out of your comfy, safe bed and onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Scattered all around you are books, magazines and video games; most of which have been partially read or played before being abandoned for something else.

"Sis, wake up!" An overly energetic voice shouts out, a pair of feet running to your side as you lay dazed and confused on the floor. You notice that the boy responsible is already wearing his school trainers already. "Wake up, wake up! Mum said that you're gonna be really, really late." He continues, jumping around as you unfurl from the safety of your duvet nest. A part of you wants him to just shut up, but you know that he is only trying to help in his own annoying way.

"What for?" You question lazily as your little half-brother continues to bounce around in excitement. He almost immediately stops; glaring at you with his bright blue eyes that are filled with unwavering determination and disbelief. Sometimes you wonder how on earth the two of you are related; a hyperactive and talented 6 year-old with an unmotivated and slightly apathetic teenager. Maybe it's the age difference, but even then, your appearances are unsettlingly different. Where he has bright blue eyes, you have duller (e/c) ones. Where he has wild orange hair, you have lifeless (h/c) hair. It's strange how genetics work.

"Your first day of school!" He shouts, charging out of your room and down the stairs. You will probably never know where he finds all that energy. Even when you were his age, you were a more relaxed child. Slowly you stand up and stagger towards the wardrobe where your crisp, brand new uniform is waiting. You pull out the clothes and quickly put them on; taking a quick look in the mirror to make sure that it is acceptable. You then brush your hair, slip your shoes on, grab your bag and follow after your brother; hoping not to run into your step-father.

"Always running late, aren't you?" A gruff and angry voice calls out behind you, causing you to tense up a little in response. You turn to face the man, a smug smile spread across his scrunched up and highly punchable face. His orange hair matches that of your little brother, but his eyes are cruel and malicious lacking the spark that your brother's contain. "Why do you even hang around? You're just like a leech." He continues, sauntering past you. You can smell a faint hint of alcohol and cigarette smoke from his clothes as he heads to his room and slams the door shut.

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