When Harley Kingsley is accepted into Redville, one of the most well known and competitive schools in the world, with unbelievably high scores, she ends up attracting the attention of the most notorious and manipulative students of the academy, dead...
( there may be typos and grammatical errors in this chapter so yeah )
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Harley
( Present )
"So, how'd you manage to score that high in the entrance?"
There it is. That damn question once again. It's getting more than annoying now – it makes me mad. The accusatory tone that they try too hard to hide in the question has started to get on my nerves. I know about six students in this very room who've made it in this batch because of their parent's money. They're all rich kids here.
I hate them all.
Not because they're rich, but because the current third year batch is the most selfish one among the three, not even thinking twice before they trample over the weaker people.
"I've no reason to answer that, do I?" I reply with a smile. "Besides, I think you've all heard enough rumours about my score already. Go figure."
"You're such a cool dancer," says Marlene, clapping her hands together. "I mean, I don't really believe that you're self taught." A liar and a cheat is what you are, is what she wants to say but she doesn't. Her smile tells me that she's doubting me, making it easier to tell what she's thinking right now.
"And just what the hell happened to you?" asks Paris. My eyes move to her. She's probably one of the only students actually abiding by the school dress code. Her uniform is so neat and she's wearing no accessories at all. Most of the students give up on the accessory part on day three at Redville but she clearly did not. She's also a dance student, which is why I know her better than the other students sitting in the third year Melpomene classroom right now.
"What the hell happened to who?" Tasha Blackwell, member of the Summer's dance group, strolls and dumps her bag in front of my seat. Her gaze is cold as it flicks between Taysa and I. Well, she's impatient about her answers, that's for sure.
"Harley's not performing at the debut, right?" Paris reminds her.
Tasha's face relaxes. She nods, then sits on her seat. She pulls her out her phone, clearly not interested in the conversation here. "Oh, yeah. Whatever."
Paris turns back to me, beaming. "So?"
Before I can reply to her, someone comes up and puts their bag down on the seat next to mine – Asher's, actually – with a loud thud. I look up, finding a familiar face I've seen around in the past month. Brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair, a lanky build – he's Tanya Meer. I hear he was on friendly terms with Asher at one point but now, they're both just acquaintances and that's it.
"Stop crowding up around her, fuckfaces," he snaps at all the girls huddled around me. His voice takes an immediate effect on most of them, who back away a little to give me some space. He sits down, looks at me, then smiles. It isn't really genuine but I can't care less. "Harley, I'm not even going to ask why you're here right now."
