Danny and Ivy: Chapter One

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A yawn released itself from a certain teen’s lips as the owner groggily pushed herself upright. She lazily glimpsed to where a clock sat, and then, her once lifeless eyes that were half lidded shot open with surprise.

“Damn!” she cussed, scrambling out of the bed.
Every physical aspect about the girl screamed grace and beauty. Standing at 5”6 feet tall, weighing only a light 116 pounds, and gifted with modest sized breasts, she was what men chased after and what women strived to be. Despite the touches of Asian features that traced the girl’s flawless face, her dazzling hazel eyes told anybody who saw her that she wasn’t a true Asian descendent. They burst with a bright green hue and had tints of temperate brown. Her wavy locks of brunette hair also spurred the evidence that this girl had inherited the genes from a white parent.

As she hastily stripped herself of her pajamas, the girl tripped over a basket piled with clothing. As most would say: appearances deceived. Elegance was the complete opposite of this rather clumsy girl, and yet, suit her personality it did.

After a brief session of washing up and changing into a warm outfit, the girl was off. She stuffed an iPhone 5 into the pocket of her skinny jeans, loosely wrapped a pink scarf around her neck, and, without delay, pinned a nametag to the front of her sweater.

Before leaving her bedroom, she quickly scanned herself in the mirror. In big, brass letters, her name, ‘Ivy T.’ was marked across the bright tag. A moment of thought appeared, and then Ivy was rushing to her drawer to search for a brush to comb her hair.

Once she was hurrying down the steps of her staircase, Ivy decided to treat herself to an on-the-go breakfast before departing to her job at the local café. She immediately hustled into the kitchen to be met with the sight of her mother preparing rice and her dad seated at the table, sipping coffee. Her Chinese mother had sleek black hair and slanted eyes, while her white father had warm green eyes and a shaved head. Stubs of brown and gray hair were noticeable though, and Ivy took note of that as she reached over her dad to snatch a piece of toast.

“You’re getting old, daddy,” she giggled, running her hand across his rough head and spinning to exit the kitchen.

“Wait one minute, young lady,” her mother called out, much to Ivy’s distress. “Toast is not going to get you through the day! Come sit down and have some rice before you go!”

Ivy let out an exaggerated sigh, having had expected the reaction from her mother. She glanced at the kitchen clock, her alarm fueled when she saw that the hour hand was close to striking to the 9.