No sooner have I popped one contact in my eye is there a rap on the door. The flimsy gray barrier slightly trembles as the noise resounds through the cramped space. My vision is half blurred, my left eye providing clear images while my right slightly distorted. After cursing my near sightedness, I yank open the door. There stands my mother, curled tendrils of her inky hair curtaining each side of her face. The rest of her hair has been neatly pinned behind her head.

Her icy eyes light up at the sigh of me, a smile worming its way onto her porcelain features. "Hey, Autumn. Almost ready for school?"

In a flash, guilt consumes me. Last night, I forgot about spending time with my parents. I had raced straight home to vent my thoughts through poetry. Etchers are conducting Chip checks soon, Cody's mother, Ingrid, is an enemy, and there's still that mysterious note. This is the worst possible time for my parents to decide I'm worth spending time with.

"I'm sorry I forgot about spending time with you last night. It's just-"

Mom cuts off my excuse by holding up her perfectly manicured hand. "It's alright," she sighs, her smile still dominant on her face. "I'm just glad you're finally hanging out with some friends."

My mouth hangs open slightly before I snap it shut. "Yeah, I guess it is." Secretly, I'm slightly enraged by her words. Of course she cares so much about my social life, about me finally becoming 'perfect'.

We fall into awkward silence as I glance around at the white walls surrounding us. To my left is the small vanity, which is also a pristine white, where my other contact rests. The shower is behind me, clear plastic curtains offering no shield from prying eyes. Then, my eyes snap back to my mother's. She's dressed in a silky rose blouse complimented by midnight tights. She's gorgeous, the silk flowing in just a way to show off her curves and slim figure. It makes the gears spin in my mind; aren't we all just expected to be carbon copies of each other? We have to be slim. We have to be smart. We have to be gorgeous. We should have money. We should be popular. Who ingrained this in our hearts? Ingrid Simon.

"Autumn?" Mom murmurs, her waving hand causing a light breeze to play with my hair.

I blink, absentmindedly swatting her hand away from my face. "Yes?"

"Hurry up and get ready. Your father and I are going to give you a lift to school," she informs me, sounding more like a secretary than a mother. After patting at her hair to ensure it's perfection, she walks down the hall. The dark blue carpet muffles the clacking of her ridiculously high heels.

After placing the other vision fixer in my other eye, I head downstairs. My bag is slung over my shoulder, hair, for once, tied back in a ponytail. I'm constantly tugging to make it tighter, the sensation of loosely tied hair one of the things that can drive me mad. Mom and Dad are already leaning against the front door. Mom's cream designer purse is loosely slung over her shoulder, Dad's hair ruffled in a stylish way. They both seem more sophisticated than me, though I'm wearing a designer gold shirt that gleams in any lighting and matching shorts. Maybe I'm just not as gorgeous as my parents, or as glamorous as Ash was. The thought causes my stomach to plummet and a feeling of dread to settle in the pit of it. How am I supposed to tackle all of the threatening situations at hand when I can't even be perfect?

"Autumn, are you ready?' Dad smiles warmly, the front door already propped open by his muscular arm.

Offering him a curve of my lips, I nod. The warmth of the morning air caresses me as I transition from air conditioning to the natural temperature of the Earth. Pinks and oranges dance across the sky, the sun peeking through the light scattering of clouds. Synthetic greenery sways in tune with the gentle breeze playing across my flesh. A small smile graces my visage as I examine the faux nature. Then, with a huff of breath, I amble over to the car. My mom is settled in the driver's seat even though the vehicle drives itself. Swiftly, my head swivels as I scan the yard for my father.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Dad suddenly whispers from behind me, his breath tickling my neck.

I start, spinning around to face him. Laughter shakes his tall build as he offers me a pearly smile.

"It is," I smile before settling my lips in a straight line. "But don't scare me like that!"

Dad rolls his eyes. "You just scare too easily. Now come on, your mother looks impatient."

Glancing over at the vehicle sitting in the narrow driveway, I realize he's correct. Mom's lips are tugged down into a frown, her eyes narrowed in impatience as she stares out of the front window.

"I wish we could experience real nature." Dad sullenly admits, his voice low so the sound greets only my ears.

Surprised by his confession, I nod. I too wish that instead of synthetic grasses and tress we could feel the leaves and breathe the chloroplast of real greenery.

*****

*****

The ride to school is filled with mindless chatter. Mainly, I'm attempting to distract my anxiety. Honestly, I'm terrified of what's going to happen to me today, of what could happen.

When I exit the car, my parents wave goodbye. I wave back, my smile mirroring theirs; the difference is, mine isn't genuine. Quickly, I shut the door behind me, ambling towards the school. Of course, my parents, ever the perfectionists, dropped me off early. Then again, I decided to get ready earlier than usual. I couldn't sleep. Last night and this morning, I was furiously writing, attempting to make sense of my thoughts on paper. For once, it didn't work. My eyes are now heavy with sleep. It takes all I have to shove one foot in front of the other as I hear the car speed off to the salon.

My bag slightly presses into my shoulder. I stare straight ahead, my school building, one of the three making up the high school complex, looming ahead of me. Its several stories of dark material seem to taunt me, even to haunt my memories. Every day, I trek to this personal Hell. The thing is, it doesn't seem as much like Hell anymore. My friends make everything more bearable. They even help make my life worth living, oxygen worth entering my asthmatic lungs. They don't judge me for having visual defects, for the illness inflaming my airways, or my previous lack of popularity. In fact, I've dragged them down the popularity chain with me, almost like I'm an anchor dragging them deeper into one of the oceans we've read about in school.

I push open one of the clear doors, the air conditioning slightly stinging after the heat of the outdoors. Light blue lockers flock me on either side, my flats slapping against the filthy tile beneath them. Suddenly, I skid to a stop. A girl's long, orange hair flops over the side of her face as she slides a folded piece of paper through a small ventilation slot in one of the lockers. I'm pretty sure that locker belongs to me. She must be the one who knows about the Chip Busters, who's threatening me.

As she leisurely strolls down the hallway, I sneak behind her. Since the hallway is dead silence except for the sound of our shoes slapping against the ground, she spins on her heel. Her foggy eyes widen in shock as her lips form the shape of an O.

"Kaylee," I start, my voice surprisingly level and nonchalant, "care to explain?"

Promptly, her head turns from side to side, her hair shaking back and forth with the movement. "No."

I take a step forward, narrowing my eyes. All the repercussions of my darned Chip dislodging from my flesh bubbles inside of me. Everything I've learned. Yes, there were positives, like newfound friendships, but what about the hardships? What about Chips in general, the strain of attempting to reach society's standards.

"Um-"

"No!" I suddenly shout, effectively cutting her off. "You're going to explain everything. How you know about my friends and I's movement, why Harper needed my help to 'save' you. All of it. Right now."

In a flash, she grabs my wrist, dragging me down the hall. Shocked, I allow her, eyes widening as she pushes me into the bathroom and shuts the door after us. Instantly, I yank my arm from her grip.

She rolls her eyes. "There's no cameras in here, stupid. For security purposes."

"Oh," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the wall. "Start explaining."

She lets out a breath, leaning sideways against the wooden door. "Harper and I work for The Others."

I cast her a blank stare. "The what now?"

She lets out a breath. "Wow, you are clueless. Okay, so we're a rebellion."

"Like the AntiChips?" I offer.

She shakes her head, venom in her gaze. "No. They're sissies. We're the hardcore rebellion. We're gonna tackle this government, and Ingrid. Then, we're gonna make our own policies. We're gonna rule this pathetic little city."

My eyes widening before narrowing. "So you're gone take out the bad guys, yet become just as malicious as them?"

She shakes her head, a dangerous glint in her eye. "No, Autumn. We're going to be better. We've been watching you. One of our agents was driving down a street and saw someone's Chip on the ground."

My eyes widen considerably. "So, you've known all along?"

She shrugs. "Well, at first, not that it was you. A lot of hacking was involved. Then, they informed Harper and I that it was you and that someone really did lose their Chip. They simply thought they saw a Chip on the ground, but it was difficult to tell at first. So, we've been ordered to keep an eye on you. We found out about your little Chip Busters organization. Some of our agents tried to kidnap you to question you, but you evaded us."

"So, you thought blackmailing me was the best answer?"

She shrugs once again. "Why not? Now, we want to know how you did it."

I laugh in her face. It's kind of maniacal, maybe even evil sounding. It resounds through the tiled room. "You really expect me to tell you? Besides, can't you just hack into some camera and find out?"

She groans, running a hand down her face. "Not now. The footage has probably been erased, or archived. I'm not really sure. Besides, we wouldn't know when or where to look. Now," She hisses, reaching down and yanking a slim knife from under her shorts, "we can do this the easy way-"

"Or the hard way. I know," I cut her off, attempting to sound calm while my heart is hammering away at my ribcage. My arms drop down to my sides, eyes shifting around in a vain attempt to spot an exit. "Why can't we just act civil about this, Kay? We used to be so close."

She takes a threatening step forward, brandishing her weapon. "Because, Autumn. Removing Chips is the key to The Others. And our friendship ended when you stole my best friend, my crush."

"Your crush?" I gasp in shock. "You mean you like Cody?"

She shakes her head. "No! Jared!"

A laugh escapes my lips. No way. But then, my eyes snap back to the knife in her grasp and I fall silent.

"I wish I could kill you. But no, you're valuable. You've always been. To Ash, now to Eva and Jared. Even Cody. Why can't I have your life, Autumn? Why are you so important? Why do people like you not just for what you pretend to be." A single tear slips down her cheek. "You don't have to pretend. You have your opinions and flaws, yet people love you."

A dry laugh escapes me. "I'm not important. I could die and no one would care."

She takes a menacing step forward, holding the glinting metal towards my heart. "See. You're different, but people love you just the same. You have no self esteem, yet you should! I have parents that bicker, The Others constantly nagging me. And then there's you. You have a boy to like you, friends, the owner of June's bakery even likes you!" After finishing her rant, her breathing rapid, she swings at me.

In a flash of adrenaline, I slide under her legs, the knife narrowly missing my arm as I reach up for the hilt. It slips for my grasp as my face meets the filthy ground. As Kaylee advances towards me, she moves away from the door. Shaking from nerves, I sprint past her and gasp the silver handle that will lead me to freedom. She grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh as she yanks me away from the door. Blindly, I lash out, smirking as I hear a groan of pain. Her grasp loosens enough so I can make a run for it.

Before I can fully exit the room, I'm thrown to the floor. Pain stabs at my side and arm as I squint up at a smirking Kaylee.

"You know, I don't think anyone would mind if I stabbed you once. You know, just once. Because finally, you've fallen."

Instinctively, my arms extend into the air to prevent the knife from slicing me. My eye squeeze shut as I blindly grope the air filling the empty space, my arms waving and trembling.

"Leave her alone!" A familiar voice screams as I hear the knife clatter to the ground. No. I'm hearing things. I'm already dead. The knife must have plunged through my heart.

"Get up, Hurricane."

"No. You're dead," I reply.

Suddenly, I'm hoisted to my feet. My eyes snap open to stare into her emerald ones. Her hair is braided to the side, just as I remember it. It seems like even more freckles dot her face, lips twisted into a large grin.

"A-Ash?" I stammer, stumbling a step backwards. "I-I don't understand."

Her grin drops as Kaylee stirs, about to hop to her feet.

"I'll explain later."

"But-"

A second later, I'm thrown out the door as Kaylee springs to her feet, knife in hand.