Chapter Two
Two years later,
Senior year. Last year before Cambridge.
Can I skip the entire thing and somehow still end up in Cambridge?
According to the obligatory grades’ system, that’s impossible.
The Mini Cooper swerves in the school’s car park so hard, the tires screech in protest.
I gasp. “Kim!”
She grins at me as if she didn’t almost run us into a pole. “What? Silver almost got the spot and I’m not letting that bitch walk all over me anymore.”
My lips pull in a smile. I’m so proud of how far Kim has come during this summer. She went on a camping trip for self-spirituality and came back as this confident, smiley girl.
If only I could let go of my inner chaos as successfully as her.
She stares at her face in the rearview mirror. “How do I look?”
Another thing about Kim’s trip? She lost more than twenty pounds and returned with this model-like body. Even her face has thinned, giving her cheekbones an alluring edge. Although I do miss her chubby cheeks. The mint-green coloured highlights make her appear like a fairy. She wore her skirt short, too short. Like a gust of wind can show her underwear, short.
I release my seatbelt. “You were always pretty, Kim.”
“Only to you, Ellie.” She rolls her eyes. “And my dad, but you guys don’t count.”
“Hey,” I scowl. “Rude.”
She sticks out her tongue. Determination sparking in her deep green eyes. “Today, I’ll show all those suckers what I’m made of. I’ll walk with my head held high like you.”
I can’t help the awkward smile breaking free. Kim thinks I’m that courageous, but she doesn’t know the entire truth.
Silver bangs on Kim’s window, her nostrils flaring. “You fat bitch!”
Two of her minions follow after her like she’s their mama duck. They’re all huffing and puffing, but I doubt it has anything to do with the weather.
Silver Queens is every bit the cliché of a mean girl. Blonde. Tall. Slender. Her mother is a member of the parliament. Her father is a minister. She also belongs to the school’s best students. Aka, the top ten per cent.
She has it all and makes sure everyone in Royal Elite School — or RES — knows it.
Kim lowers her window, grins at Silver, and flips her middle finger. “Fuck you, bitch.”
Silver and her minions’ jaws drop so hard, so fast, they turn speechless.
I’m speechless, too.
My best friend doesn’t curse and she certainly doesn’t flip people off — or bullies, to be more specific.
Kim didn’t only change in appearance. Nuh-uh. The world needs whatever self-confidence training she had.
“Let’s go, Elle.” Kim opens her door, pushing the dumbfounded mean girls back.
I take my backpack and exit, too. I hold my head high as I stare down at Silver.
“What are you looking at, Frozen?” Silver snarls.
Of course.
The beloved nickname at RES.
But it’s not because of the Disney film. No.
Since the first day I walked into RES, I’ve been instantly marked as an outcast.
Kim and I were the butt-end of every fat and nerd joke. While Kim – the old Kim – hid in the garden behind the school until everyone went to class, I walked the hallway with my head held high.
Aunt and Uncle didn’t raise me to be stepped on. I kept to myself, but I never let them touch my dignity.
Apparently, I have an epic resting bitch face. Thus the nickname.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I keep my expression neutral as I meet Silver’s malicious eyes. “You’re not important enough for me to stare at.”
I interlace my arm with Kim and walk into the school’s huge doors. The ten towers appear eerie like they belong to a horror film, not a prestigious old architecture.
But then again, that’s how I categorised RES since that first day.
My hands turn clammy and my body tightens as if I’m off to battle.
Kim smiles, but it’s forced and makes her nose twitch in anxiousness.
“We’ve got this,” I say more to myself than to her.
One more year in this hell.
One more year until Cambridge.
Kim’s head bobs up and down, causing her mint-coloured strands to bounce.
“If we die,” I joke. “I want to go in full Shakesperian mode. Tragedy.”
She laughs, the sound is throaty. “For thy love of thee!”
We break into a fit of laughter as we head down the vast, main hallway. The school’s golden logo, Crest-Lion-Crown decorates the entrance hall and the announcement board.
The moment we cross the entrance area and step into the hallways filled with other students, the real nightmare starts.
“Hey, Frozen. Did you freeze any beaches this summer?”
“Where’s your fat friend?”
“Is she stuffing her pregnant belly with carbs?”
Kim’s grip tightens on my arm. I can’t believe they don’t even recognise her.
Truth be told, I had to look at her twice after the summer camp to make sure it was her.
“Are you still swallowing cocks, Teacher Slut?”
I bite my lower lip against the rolling wave of anger. That particular rumour makes me want to hit someone.
Two years ago, after the entire class went out, I dropped my pen in biology. When I dropped down on my knees to pick it up, my hair got caught in the table — cliché, I know. Mr Silvester, the biology teacher, helped me out by untangling my hair.
Apparently, one of the dickheads here saw that moment and spread the rumour that I was giving our biology teacher a blowjob before he fucked me in class. Right before the exam — that I had a perfect score on.
Since then, I’ve been labelled a teacher slut.
Whenever I get a perfect score, it means I slept with the teacher.
But of course, no one talks about how Levi King, the oldest of the two kings, slept with a teacher. For real. They were caught in the act by the principal himself.
Nope. He gets a pass. The teacher gets thrown out of the educational system and she had to flee the country, basically.
Oh, and his guardian, the mighty Jonathan King, CEO of King Enterprises, got an official apology from RES.
Levi King got out of it unscathed. In fact, he became more popular, more loved, more admired.
Why? Because his last name is King.
And the Kings hold more power than the actual queen of this country.
Levi King was idolised for fucking the teacher.
I’m called a teacher slut for unfound rumours.
Kim’s grip turns deadly even though she’s holding onto her courageous mode.
I’m used to this rubbish and name-calling in the hallways. Kim isn’t. I want to protect her from all these bastards.
Protect yourself first, Elsa.
Kim and I try to ignore them by talking about my running competition this weekend or the start of the Premier League season.
We release a collected breath when we finally arrive at our class.
At least, the wankers keep their distance when the teachers are around. But the thing about bullies? They work under the surface in front of adults.
RES is a prestigious, posh school, so the students need to keep up a certain image.
The rich are scarier than any normal criminal.
They have all the money and influence to allow them to twist anything around. They’re never labelled criminals. No. They’re labelled as elites.
Kim stops abruptly two steps into the classroom, and I run into her rigid back.
Her breathing becomes audible.
My own breathing picks up pace, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on high alert.
Since that entrance day, there’s been this baffling level of awareness that won’t leave me the hell alone.
Every fibre of my being is honed for the inevitable confrontation.
For that crash and burn.
I suck in several deep breaths and begin the usual chant.
I’m loved. Aunt, Uncle, and Kim love me. I won’t break. Not today.
I need to remind myself of those facts to remain strong and not let him get to me.
That’s what the devil’s reduced me to.
My gaze finally strays ahead, following Kim’s field of vision.
Xander Knight. Cole Nash. Ronan Astor. Aiden King.
The four horsemen of RES. They earned the title for their impressive team play on the football team.
I call them the four arseholes.
And they’re all here in our class.
No wonder Kim froze. We’ve barely escaped their wrath without being in the same class.
As in breathing the same air all year long. And not just any year, senior year.
Maybe I need to speak to Aunt and Uncle about my plans for Cambridge.
Cambridge, who?