Chapter 4: Drone Wars and Flying Wigs

If you ever want to impress your crush, don't do what I did.

What started as a simple three-step plan:

1. Build a drone

2. Make it cool

3. Show it to Sarah

…turned into what Javier now calls "The Great Wig Incident of 2023."

Step One: The Junk Drone Heist

Finding an affordable drone?

Impossible.

After checking every major store (and confirming that yes, $300 was a lot for a flying noisy device waiting to crash the little opportunity it gets), I turned to the sketchiest option in town—Mr. Kovac's Electronics Emporium.

The shop looked like it hadn't been cleaned since dinosaurs got Wi-Fi. Dusty components filled cracked glass cases. Mr. Kovac sat behind the counter, watching static on a TV older than my dad.

"That one's got potential," he croaked, pointing a nicotine-stained finger at what looked like a drone-shaped paperweight. "Half off. Missing some parts."

Some parts turned out to mean:

One propeller

The battery cover

Most of the stabilising sensors

The remote had three sticky buttons and smelled suspiciously like grape soda.

Perfect.

I sent a picture to ChatGPT.

Me: Can this thing still fly?

ChatGPT:

With significant modifications, this could be operational. I recommend starting with:

1. Replacing the missing propeller

2. Rewiring the power supply

3. Adding voice control—because let's be honest, you're going to crash it anyway.

Step Two: The All-Night Disaster

What followed was 48 hours of:

Electrical tape burns

Three small fires

One deeply concerned mother asking if I was "building a bomb"

Zoey bursting in every hour to ask, "Has it exploded yet?"

By Sunday night, against all odds, the drone responded to commands.

Mostly.

"Behold!" I announced to my empty room. "The Voice-Activated Sky King!"

"Take off!" I commanded.

It sputtered, coughed like an old car, then rose shakily about two feet.

"Land!"

It dropped like a brick.

Javier's reaction the next morning was priceless.

"You're going to show Sarah that death trap?"

"It's not a death trap," I said, tightening a loose wire that immediately sparked. "It's a work in progress."

Step Three: The Grand (Disastrous) Reveal

At lunch, I spotted Sarah near the sports field.

Javier and the guys set up what I can only describe as a disaster watch party about twenty feet away.

"Hey, Sarah," I said, suddenly very aware of how sweaty my palms were. "Check this out."

Her eyes lit up when she saw the drone. "No way! You built this?"

"Yep. Voice-controlled and everything." I cleared my throat. "Take off!"

The Sky King buzzed to life and ascended with surprising grace.

Sarah's mouth fell open. "That's amazing! Can it do tricks?"

"Sure! Spin!"

The drone spun wildly, nearly taking out a freshman's lunch tray.

"Land!"

It touched down perfectly. I was nailing this.

Then came my fatal mistake.

"Fly over there!" I pointed confidently toward the empty garden.

The drone paused. Processing.

Then it shot off in the exact opposite direction.

The Wig Heist of the Century

What happened next unfolded in perfect slow motion.

The drone zipped toward the teachers' courtyard, where Miss Dicshard sat grading papers, her elaborate wig practically glowing in the sunlight.

"Return! Abort! Stop!" I shouted uselessly.

The drone's landing gear snagged the wig with surgical precision.

For one glorious, terrible second, the drone hovered victoriously with its prize while Miss Dicshard sat frozen, her hand slowly rising to confirm her sudden baldness.

The scream that followed could have shattered glass.

The Aftermath

Sitting outside Principal Diksakins' office, I could hear Miss Dicshard's voice through the door:

"…disrespectful… humiliation… possibly illegal…"

My phone buzzed.

ChatGPT:

Analysis of incident suggests:

1. Poor directional programming

2. No object avoidance system

3. You probably should have tested it more.

Sarah walked by, trying—and failing—to hide her laughter.

"Your drone's… something else," she giggled.

"Yeah, well," I shrugged. "At least it's memorable?"

She surprised me with a high-five. "Next time, aim for a hat instead."

As she walked away, Javier appeared, shaking his head.

"Only you, man. Only you could turn a drone demo into performance art."

It wasn't the smooth, romantic moment I'd imagined.

But as Zoey would say—at least it wasn't boring.