Until I Met You

3 | "live and let live"

"We're going to school where?" My eyes widen in horror as the question escapes my lips, tone filled with disgust. My mother has just told me some of the worst news I've gotten since she first mentioned moving to New York, and I can hardly believe it. Or maybe it isn't that I can't believe the news, but rather I don't want to.

"Crestwood Academy," Mother reiterates, expression firm and serious as her frosty emerald stare lands on me, as if begging me to try and fight her on the decision as to where my sister and I will attend the rest of the school year.

"Really?" Kendall and I exclaim in unison, though our moods couldn't possibly be any more different. Kendall seems to be oddly enthusiastic, grinning as her eyes sparkle with what can best be described as excitement. I, on the other hand, could not be more upset over this new change in my life.

"Yes, really," Mother says stiffly, seemingly conflicted over whether she should beam at Kendall or continue to glare at me. "Crestwood Academy is New York's most prestigious private school, home to the city's elite."

I'm certain my mother must have gotten that line from some sort of brochure.

"I've heard so much about Crestwood!" Kendall cries, her excitement only managing to further irritate me. "Did you know the president's daughter goes there?" Kendall rambles, though I don't bother to listen. I'm too preoccupied thinking about what a shit show my life has become.

How is it possible that only days ago Kendall was furious with me for being the reason our family had to leave California, going out of her way to make my life a living hell because she was upset over having to live in New York? And now here she is, clearly impressed that she'll get to attend her dream school, which is thanks to me, I should mention. I almost want to point this out to my sister, though I know better.

However, I do find myself arguing, "There is no way I'm going to Crestwood Academy. A bunch or rich kids leeching off of daddy's money go there. Can't we go somewhere cool? Like . . . I dunno, a public school?"

Both Kendall and my mother freeze, turning their heads slightly to stare at me in sheer horror.

"I can't go to a public school!" Kendall shrills as my mother yelps, "I can't have my daughters attending public school! What would people think? Jade—are you insane?"

Kendall and my mother continue their fussing, though I merely tune them out. I'm not indifferent to attending a public school after hearing so much about it over the years. Apparently public school lighting is an awful florescent that could make even the hottest super model appear sickly. The food tastes like paste and nobody can stand to eat it. Gym is every kid in the public school system's worst nightmare.

It sounds amazing.

Private schools are pure torture. All of the students are eerily attractive and obnoxiously snooty. They're uptight, spoiled boys and girls who throw a fit over a broken nail. Girls bring along compact mirrors to class simply to stare at their reflections, and so do the guys. You'd think the place would be great, considering the tuition just to attend. Yet they never live up to the hype, and I've been to plenty of private schools by now.