Walking into the store, my heart hammered against my ribs. I pointed to the board, handed over my crumpled bills, and walked out carrying the heavy box like it was a chest of gold.
I’d stared at the sleek, matte-black board in the window of Tech-Verse every day for a month. To everyone else, it was just a gadget. To me, it was a magic carpet with LED lights. i want to buy a hoverboard
I didn't even make it to the park. I set it down on the sidewalk, took a deep breath, and stepped on. Walking into the store, my heart hammered against my ribs
The board stopped. I didn't. I performed a very ungraceful somersault into a hedge. As I pulled a twig out of my hair, I looked at my scuffed black board and grinned. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. If you'd like to , let me know: Should I enter a race with my friends? Does the board have a secret feature I didn't know about? Or should I struggle to learn a difficult trick? To everyone else, it was just a gadget
The board beeped. I wobbled. My arms flailed like a windmill. Then, the motors whirred, and I was gliding. The wind hit my face, and for a second, I felt like I was flying through the suburbs. Then came the crack in the sidewalk.