Bright Academy for the Gifted and Noble stood like a monument of polished white stone and tinted blue glass amidst the hills of Brightgate.
Tall walls, manicured hedges, and hovering security drones gave it a sense of both prestige and paranoia.
This was the school Michael had enrolled his cousin in.
Since he had money now, he went for one of the best that the new city could offer.
Michael walked through the outer courtyard.
Other students passed his—some in uniform, others in casual attire.
Several glanced in his direction, and more than a few stared. Michael ignored them.
Michael was soon escorted into a reception room with polished wooden floors and a wide circular skylight that bathed the space in sunlight.
Sitting at the head of the room was a short, silver-haired woman with the kind of poise that screamed "principal," flanked by two assistant teachers and a receptionist who looked barely old enough to be out of high school.
