by LJ Byrne
“Sorry, Mason is an ass,” Katrina says, shrugging elegantly. “Thank God we’re not really related.”
“Katrina Maverick!” Elizabeth exclaims. “Elena, I’m so very sorry about my ill-bred children. I need to run here – board meeting and all. Katrina, would you make sure Elena gets settled at school? I packed a uniform for her in your garment bag.” Elizabeth turns to me. “The rest of your uniforms get hand-delivered to your room by the laundry staff as there is staff on-site that does the laundry and they make sure uniforms get returned to students promptly.” She pulls out a credit card and hands it to me. It has my name on it. When I sputter in protest, she stops me. “There are parties and other events. You will need clothes beyond uniforms. This is to cover those expenses. There is money set aside in that account for you to use.”
I make a mental note to never touch that credit card. Katrina bumps me with her shoulder. “If you don’t spend it, Mom says I can spend it to buy your clothes when necessary. Look, it’s not a handout. It’s to prevent the other rich jerks from making fun of you. Part of the experience at Highbury is the parties and events,” Katrina points out. Her brown eyes beg me to not make a fuss.
I pocket the credit card and it feels like it burns in my pocket. I hate handouts. I hate being pitied. I plaster a smile on my face and try to be gracious. Think of Mom getting better. It’s worth it. “Thank you, Mrs. Maverick. I appreciate your kindness and generosity.”
But Elizabeth surprises me with a hug. “I want you to know that I was once you,” she says quietly. “I was poor. I had nothing. Men told me I couldn’t build a company, people told me I couldn’t do anything without money. I didn’t let it stop me.” She holds me out at arm’s length. “Elena, there’s a reason why we made you fill out the application to Highbury. It was to show the staff there why you deserve to be there. You may be there on financial aid, but you’ve earned the right to be at Highbury. If I had known Pete had lied—” She shakes her head. “Never mind. I know it’s far from home for you, but I want you to think of this place as another place for you to stay if you need it.
The moment is awkward, but I’m genuinely touched by Elizabeth’s comments. “Thank you,” I say again.
As the chauffeur loads up my bag and Katrina’s suitcases, I see Mason getting ready to drive off in his blue Maserati. At the high school I went to, if you drove a Corolla, you were hot stuff. I don’t think a Corolla would cut it with Mason.
Since Pops is a mechanic, I know quite a bit about cars as long as I’m not required to fix one. I once tried to help Pops change the oil and nearly caused a fire.
“Stop gawking at my car,” Mason sneers, leaning against his car in typical rich boy fashion.
I don’t tell him I’m not gawking. I’m verifying the model. Dumbass. “Maserati GT Convertible, four hundred and fifty-four horsepower, max speed one hundred and seventy-seven miles per hour,” I rattle off. That’s me. Pops talks a lot about car specifications, and I tend to remember them.
Mason’s eyes narrow. “Damn walking car brochure,” he scoffs. “See you at the lot, Katrina.” He doesn’t bother to look at me as he gets into his car and speeds off
If Pops were here, he’d shake his head. As much as people love speeding off in fancy sports cars, Mason’s tires are new. You can see the lubricant still on them, which means he should be a bit gentle for the first five hundred miles.
On the car ride, Katrina tries to fill me in on the weird rules of Highbury Academy. “So, first, no modifications to the uniform. You get points taken off for violating the rules. Second, every year has its Elites. You’re a second-year and you won’t interact a lot with the other years, so you only need to know about who the Elites are for your grade.”
“Elites?” What the hell?
“Mmm. It ends up being the four richest boys and four richest girls in your class.” Katrina hands me a piece of paper.
Notes for Elena Kano:
Don’t modify your uniform. Ever. Demerits accrue for every uniform infraction.
Second-year Elites. The Boys: Lucas Rhodes (he’s an ass), Brock Caruso, Mason Maverick, Oliver Chang (also an ass). The Girls: Vanessa Valentino (she’s a bitch), Kiana Shimura (also a bitch), Astrid Fleming, Ashley Witt
The Elites have Inner Circles: not real Elite material but they’re like groupies
Always lock your door. The Elites play mean pranks.
“Wow, this is a lot to take in,” I say. At least, I know who the bullies will be. Bullies are like sharks. They smell blood. “Your brother is an Elite, then.” Makes sense based on what I saw of his attitude.
“Yes, and by default, I’m part of the Inner Circle, but I have very little in common with the Elites. Oh, by the way, I made it so that you and I are roommates,” Katrina says sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be easier if we were near each other. I figure, since you missed out on first year, you’re at a disadvantage and it might help to have a friend.”
Katrina almost seems embarrassed – like there’s something she doesn’t want to say – but I’m touched. “I appreciate it,” I say, hoping I’m not making a mistake in liking her as a friend. I almost tell her about my mom and that the only reason I’m going to Highbury is so that she’ll get the help she needs, but I hesitate. I asked Edgar to not let any students, including his children, know about my mother’s situation. It’s bad enough as it is that there’s a stigma around mental health. I don’t want Katrina to think I don’t value the opportunity that Highbury offers, so I keep it to myself.
It takes nearly two hours to arrive at the student lot. During that time, Katrina and I reveal that neither of us is dating, we think Tom Holland is hot (but agree he’s a little short), and she’s given me a rundown of the instructors. We’ll likely have Gym together, but we’re not sure what academic classes I’ve been assigned to. Katrina assures me that at check-in when I get my student-issued iPad, my schedule will be pre-loaded.
A lot of students fly into the town nearby, but those who want their cars drive. Because students are not allowed to have their cars on campus, students park their cars in the student lot, which is a mile away from the campus, and take a shuttle to the school. The lot is equipped with restrooms and changing rooms for the students, and Katrina helps me put the uniform on correctly when we get there.
Each year is given certain colors to wear – I suppose it is another form of segregation, although Katrina swears it’s to create class pride. Regardless, first-year students wear green and blue. Second-years wear dark blue jackets and white skirts or pants. Girls get to choose between pencil skirts or A-line pleated skirts, tights optional. Katrina and I have similar tastes because we both opt for pencil skirts. When I look in the changing room mirror, I have to admit the uniform is sharp. I feel like I’m on Gossip Girl. Katrina verifies that I’m dressed perfectly before we leave and head to the shuttle area.
Although Mason likely sped all the way here, we end up on the same shuttle as him. I get the pleasure of meeting another Elite, too. (I’ve determined that Elite is the polite version of asshole at Highbury Academy.)
“That’s Oliver Chang,” Katrina whispers to me, her chin indicating the tall Asian boy near Mason.
Oliver and Mason are in deep conversation across the aisle. “Is that her? The one getting the free ride because your dad felt sorry for her?” Oliver asks Mason loudly. I guess I’m not worthy of a direct question.
“You know, Katrina, you’d be more popular if you didn’t hang out with the losers all the time,” Mason says with a feral grin. “Could you not befriend the trash?”
Katrina tosses her hair. “You’re such a jerk, Mason. I hang with who I like.”
Oliver scrutinizes me from his seat. He’s not as tall as Mason – maybe an inch or two taller than me. He’s not bad looking either. I’m starting to think Highbury only has genetically enhanced students. “Does she even talk?” he asks Mason.
“Only when someone bothers to address me properly,” I
mutter under my breath. I don’t think he hears me.
The ride to the school feels like forever, but I know it takes less than ten minutes. When the shuttle stops, Katrina grabs my arm. “Elites leave first,” she whispers. I notice the other students wait for Mason and Oliver to leave. Even though I find the concept ridiculous, I remember that we allow first-class flyers to leave the plane first. It’s not just a school thing – society panders to the rich everywhere they go.
By the time I get my iPad and keys to my room, I’m starting to think Highbury Academy is a bad idea. I become fully aware that the other students are whispering about me as I walk with my distinctly unfashionable duffle bag. I catch a few hostile glares. Katrina continues to talk to me as a distraction.
Edgar Maverick did not lie. Each apartment is equipped with a private bathroom – thank God – and kitchen, although I doubt anyone here bothers to use it. The dorm we’re in has two apartments per floor – it’s a tall, skinny building nicknamed Sliver by the students – Katrina says there’s a movie it is vaguely related to. We meet our floormate, My Li Zhao, and her roommate, Tess Urbanville. My Li’s mother teaches Chinese at the school. Katrina tells me privately that it is rumored that Mei Zhao, My Li’s mother, used to work for the Ministry of State Security in China – China’s version of the CIA.
We then head over to the auditorium to hear Principal Foggerty give her welcoming talk. As we file in, the first thing I notice is that each class sits together. There is no intermingling among the various years. The second thing I notice is that the back two rows are left deliberately empty for each class until four boys and four girls march in together and sit there. They literally take two whole rows to themselves and everyone lets them.
“Those rows are for the Elites in each class,” Katrina explains. “The blond guy to Mason’s right is Lucas. The guy to Mason’s left is Brock. The girls are in front: Vanessa is the blond, Ashley is the one with rose-gold hair, Kiana is the short one, and Astrid has light brown hair.”
My head is spinning. On top of schoolwork, I’m supposed to learn this crazy social hierarchy made by a bunch of kids who have nothing else better to do. I want to scream in frustration.
The principal, Allison Foggerty, is the tallest woman I’ve ever seen. If Amazonians existed, she would be one. Principal Foggerty lifts her microphone and everyone goes silent.
“Welcome, students, to another year at Highbury Academy.” The principal goes on about the school’s core values, but I tune her out.
I remind myself that I only need to last a year. I’m hopeful that Mom will get better quickly now that she’s at the facility fulltime. Just one year of this crap. Do it for Mom.
CHAPTER 3
Thanks to Katrina, I don’t have any issues finding my classes the next day. While we do have Gym together, we don’t share any other classes. Due to my test scores, I’m placed in the “advanced curriculum” – since this is one of the hardest schools in the nation, I guess that means my classes will be extra hard? Whatever the case may be, I’m dismayed to find that I share too many of my classes with several of the Elites. The bullies in my previous school weren’t all that smart, so avoiding them usually meant taking hard classes. I guess it isn’t the same at Highbury.
The sadistic schedulers have decided that math class should be first. Edgar wasn’t lying when he talked about the oval-shaped tables. I’m the second to arrive at math class and I groan inwardly when I see Lucas Rhodes sitting.
“Hello, Trash,” he says to me in his polished and cultured voice. Before I left home, I watched Gossip Girl to get an idea of what rich prep kids were like. Lucas could literally be on that show. His blond hair is so perfect that I wonder if he used a whole can of Aqua Net on it. I’m guessing not Aqua Net because it would be too cheap.
Because I don’t respond to insults very well, I sit down and wait. I’m pleasantly surprised to see My Li enter. She smiles at me faintly but glances briefly at Lucas to gauge his reaction. I’m guessing there’s a social stigma to associating with me publicly. We’re joined by a boy, who actually introduces himself as Bruce Cruz, and his twin, Charles. Then last, but not least, Oliver Chang comes in.
“Who let the freeloader in here?” Oliver asks. “Does she know this is a hard math class?”
Lucas laughs, his dark eyes skimming over me. “Everyone in this room pays full tuition, Trash. But not you. You’re on some sort of scholarship from the Mavericks. I’m still trying to figure out how that came all about.” He cocks his head at me.
Bruce frowns at Lucas, but he doesn’t say anything. Katrina told me to be polite to the Elites whenever possible. I’m not staying silent because I’m trying to follow the rules. I’m just ignoring them.
I continue to stare blankly in front of me while Oliver makes another comment. “Maybe she’s deaf,” Oliver suggests. He snaps his fingers in front of my face.
Lucas leans forward. “I’m thinking that Trash is too generous of a name for you. Freeloader is more accurate. Ollie, I salute your suggestion.”
Just then, our instructor arrives and I’m able to focus. After class is over, I plan to leave but I’m pushed back down in my chair by Oliver. “Elites first,” he hisses. I notice that the other students wait until Lucas and Oliver exit.
“Don’t worry about them. Just keep your head down,” Charles says kindly. Bruce just nods at me.
I gather my things, but I’m grabbed by the arm right outside the classroom. I see Lucas with a vice-grip on my arm. “You,” he says, “next time we ask you a question, you respond. Got it?”
I shake my arm free. “Asshole,” I say without thinking.
A loud gasp makes me realize my error. Vanessa Valentino, with unnaturally perky breasts, stands in front of me, her red mouth open in horror. Her hair is so blond that it’s almost white and it gives her this creepy glow. “How dare you speak to an Elite that way?” she demands in a shrill tone.
I raise a brow and try to move forward, but Vanessa shoves me hard. I lose my balance and fall. I’ve been through this rodeo before. After I stand, I wait with my head lowered, eyes vacant, staring blankly in front of me.
“You have not been excused,” Vanessa sneers. “Remember your place.” Behind her, Kiana Shimura glares. Because Kiana is so much shorter than Vanessa, she’s like an Igor to Vanessa’s tall frame.
Once Vanessa shoulders past me, I continue to class, but a hand slams on the door before I open it. “What?” I ask in a flat tone, my face expressionless.
Lucas’s eyes narrow on me. “Open the door for me, Freeloader.”
In my years of being harassed, that’s a first for me. I raise a wall between the world and my emotions as I open the door for him. “You first,” I add dryly.
“You need to learn some manners,” he says as he enters the classroom.
I wait until he is out of earshot before I say, “After you.”
On the first day of classes, gym class is more of an introduction. We get handed our PE uniforms and school-issued swimsuits that have the Highbury Academy logo on them. Gym class is set up such that you have thirty minutes to return to your dorm to shower if you don’t want to use the shower stalls set up in the gym. I’m told by Katrina that no one uses them.
Katrina and I walk to the dining hall. For breakfast, the food is set up like a buffet and there’s a counter for grab-n-go items. But for lunch and dinner, you sit at tables, give the staff your order, and the servers bring the food to you. Each class year has a recommended mealtime to prevent crowding in the dining hall, and although we see a few first and third years, I get told that the only time we mingle with other grades is during Assembly and athletic events. When we enter the dining hall, Katrina directs me to a table. I recognize Bruce and Charles as they give me a small wave.
“How’s your first day of classes going?” Bruce asks.
“Wonderful,” I say quietly. Charles chuckles.
“That bad, huh?” Katrina gives me a sad smile. “It’ll get better.”
We hand the server our orders. While we wait, I ask, “How do I get access to a piano regularly?”
“Ah, a fellow piano player.” Bruce salutes me with his fork. “There’s a music room that has various instruments. If you need a private room, though, there are two rooms you can reserve that have pianos in them.”
I brighten for the first time that day. “Really?” I start plotting in my head.
“She taught herself piano,” Katrina brags to the twins.
“I had a music teacher at my school who helped me learn a few things. Then I learned online.” I shrug like it isn’t a big deal.
“I was tortured by my piano teacher weekly,” Bruce whines. “I’d love to hear you play.”
“I’m not that good,” I mutter.
We compare our schedules and Bruce seems pleased when he learns we’re in Music together. “You’ll love the music instructor. Her name’s Ingrid Waldorf, but we sometimes call her Ms. Nightingale. She’s got a fantastic singing voice,” Bruce says as our food arrives. I notice that he ordered two different main courses. “Do you sing, too?”
“Ha!” I laugh, but I don’t quite answer the question either. Luckily, everyone’s so hungry that the topic is forgotten.
I do a careful look around me and find that there’s an oval table with the eight second-year Elite students around it on a raised platform. At a nearby table, I see several other second-years that Katrina identifies as the Inner Circle. “Their job is to idolize and be sycophants to the Elites,” she mutters, which is interesting because Katrina is part of the Inner Circle, too. I wonder why she doesn’t sit there.
I evaluate Katrina quietly, but I keep my thoughts to myself. She does the same to me; perhaps our eyes reveal more than they conceal.
Bruce and I chat amicably as we enter Music together. I pause briefly to note that the music hall is called Spark Hall. I silently shake my head.