Masked Girls

02. THE QUEEN AND THE BACKWARD PAWN

Everyone has struggles and obstacles on the path to success, no doubt - and unfortunately for all of us, not everyone will get there. But there were always at least a select group of people in every organisation who manage to achieve it all, to become what everyone had proclaimed as the ultimate success.

As a student, I had met way too many of these people - these annoyingly perfect people who were good at everything and earned the respect of all. Straight As, talent in extracurricular activities, decent if not charming appearances... you name it, they had it. With perfection, came approval. They were also respected by their peers, adored by the teachers and thought to be the role model of the entire student body. 

In short, they were what most people called the golden girl or boy.

In the case of Rifton Girls' High School, however, there wasn't just one, but a plethora of golden girls all over - the fact being that Rifton was one of the most prestigious all-girls private schools in the city. Besides having a fancy, majestic infrastructure built up from the donations of now-wealthy alumni, Rifton Girls' High was known for having a brilliant reputation due to effective teachers (not that I thought all of them were, but whatever the staff said, went), intellectual students and strict rules that helped their students grow as 'fine young ladies' (on the outside, actually).

It wasn't an easy school to get into. Honestly, looking back, my admission felt like a fluke. Rifton only considered the cream of the crop into consideration - on top of achieving top-scoring grades and difficult admission tests, all students were evaluated on many other fronts such as competition awards and extracurricular activities - only the best of the best were going to get the coveted acceptance letter mailed to them. As a result, every student of the school, no matter who they were, had one striking similarity - the trait of ambition. Every girl here believed themselves destined for success and the perfect life. One of these factors was, and still is, popularity; every girl wanted to be the leading lady, the star, the queen bee.

As always, there was only one crown, and only one girl fit to wear it. Her ascension was swift and noticeable as she rose through the ranks of Rifton's social hierarchy, forming her esteemed, exclusive clique that was worshipped by all others. She was cool, smart, the newest addition to the netball team and had more than a thousand followers on her Instagram account with a flawless feed.

Alas, Natalie Kingsley was the undisputed queen of Rifton's fresh batch in the mere time period of two months, give or take. Unlike the typical stereotype, she was in no way a dumb, platinum-blonde, spawn-of-Satan slut (unlike all the trashy fanfictions on the net). She ruled the then first-years with apparent benevolence and fairness, had the charisma and charm that every girl could only dream of having. She was surely single but without a need to mingle - true queens didn't need a king, did they? It wasn't long before she had a contingency trailing behind her, the status of 'Natalie's clique member' taped to their foreheads and worn with pride. It was all over their faces - the confidence, the smiles and the looks in their eyes that commanded respect from the rest of the students.

If anyone were to know of my true opinions, my despise for Natalie sounded more like a tale out of a reversed cliche of teen fiction stories, where the 'good girl' was the horrible person and the 'popular mean girl' was actually a sweet, misunderstood angel. People would probably judge me for jealousy if I ever spoke of my hatred for Natalie and hate me all over again after last year's kind-of-happened drama had blown off. My grades were currently crap; hers were straight As. I was a member of the chess club; she was vice-captain of the basketball team. (Because sports were much more respectable than sitting in front of a chessboard.) I was a weirdo with no friends and obviously, she was the golden girl of the school. 

If I had to put it in deep, metaphorical terms like something out of a pretentious poem, Natalie Kingsley was the queen of said metaphorical chessboard, while I was the pathetic, measly backward pawn.