The Beauty in Poverty

Chapter 4 - Happy

© AP ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 2020

Ricky kept darting looks back at me through the rear view mirror.

I was tempted to flip him off, but I knew it wasn't him that I was angry at, more myself.

Over the night I'd mulled over my choice of words and conceded that I may have been a tad bit insensitive, but just a little. But honestly, you'd think the boy would've developed thicker skin at his age.

We pulled into the school parking lot and I scrambled out of the car before Ricky could open my door, eager to get away from his inquisitive gaze. I began walking away, but then I turned back and walked to his window, holding out my hand.

"I'll drive myself home."

Ricky's old weathered face was impassive, he simply got out of the driver's seat, locked the doors of my Bentley and handed me the keys.

"Thanks." I said shortly, before walking towards the main building. I didn't ask how he would get himself back to the house.

As I approached the Stairs I began to recall all the reasons why I hated the social aspect of school. The Stairs were the most climatic moments of the start and end of any school day, here at St Aldate's High.

Imagine: a long sprawling flight of marble steps leading to the entrance of the school, part of which was formerly a church (hence the name). On the left-hand side of the stairs were the 'cool' crowd, sat with their baseball caps turned backwards and their clothes 'fashionably' in total disarray. The girls would lay, all but draped, across the guys - living clichés with their top buttons undone and their skirts hitched as high as feasibly possible.

On the right side of the stairs, were what I guess you'd call 'the rest'. The indie crew, the emos, the neeks and of course, last and definitely least, the loners. I am a proud member of the latter. I didn't talk to anyone and liked it that way - so consequently I was automatically assigned to that group. But in all honesty, it didn't bother me much, as I've said, I like my silence.

How that was about to change.

"Avery!" A voice that I had distinctively come to associate with none other than Olivia called out.

I paused on the first step. The most dramatic aspect about the Stairs, you see, was not the fractured social groups, but their ascent and descent. Every. Pair. Of. Eyes. On. You. And then lips would start to move. One thing everyone in St Aldate's had in common was money. And one thing I'd learnt was: money talks. I mean that in a literal sense. Olivia had undeniably made the start of my day even worse than it usually was, as now people actually had a reason to brazenly fix their eyes on me.

Growing hot under the unusual amount of attention, I glowered at Olivia as she made her way over to me.

"I heard you went over to Camden's yesterday?"

"You mean, you slipped out of the room in the nick of time so Gina asked me to deliver that bloody casserole and not you," I deadpanned. If Olivia had just gone, maybe none of this would have even happened. But then I wouldn't have met Lily and Rose. The thought of the girls brought a small smile to my face. They had been sweet.

"Yeah, I really don't know why you're smiling, judging by the way things went yesterday, you're never setting foot in that house again."

My heart quickened, "You spoke to Camden?" I asked strained. How does she know what happened already, did he hate me that much that he could barely restrain from expressing his contempt? I took in a hasty breath and worked to keep my expression neutral.  

"Yeah well, you left the salad and french dressing that mum always pairs with her casseroles. She immediately sent me of course, which is what I had been trying to avoid," she added sourly. "Camden was fuming and surprisingly he cracked after only about the hundredth time of me asking which makes a change from his usual track record of discussing his feelings which is, oh I don't know, never. You really got under his skin."