I look up at the giant gates and the building behind it. Kaspar Gymnasium. English High School in the Netherlands for the rich and famous. This school houses all the elite students from abroad. The ones who don’t speak Dutch but whose parents still work here. All rich kids who don’t want to be here, just like us.
Lucky for me, I only have to be here one more year until I graduate.
I don’t understand why we had to switch schools this late, though.
But I can make a guess.
We quickly jump out and say goodbye to the driver, who will pick us up again once school is over. Walking off the premises isn’t allowed for the time being, according to my father. A peril of doing the business he’s in.
Jasmine and I try to blend in with the crowd, but it’s hard when everybody’s looking at us like we’re trying to make ourselves look more important than we are. Some throw us smiles like they’re trying to impress us, but others only sneer at us, and it makes me want to snarl at them.
Someone laughs at me.
I know it’s not just because of who I am or the family I belong to, but also because of how I dress. Sometimes, I make my own clothes, and today, I decided to wear one such outfit to my first day at school.
“Ridiculous,” someone mutters as they walk past me.
Maybe it was a bad idea.
Jasmine throws the person an evil glare.
“Just ignore them,” she tells me. “They don’t have style anyway,” she adds, sliding on her sunglasses.
My hand firmly clutches her arm. I’m so glad she always has my back.
I don’t like it when people laugh at me for my creations. It’s just something I like to do in my spare time. A little rebellion against my parents’ brutal reign.
“What’s your first class again?” Jasmine asks while on the way inside.
“Oh … lemme check.” I completely forgot after getting out of the car and being stared down by other kids. I fetch my schedule from my bag. “Economy.”
“Mine’s Dutch, so I guess we’ll see each other at break time,” Jasmine responds.
We give each other a short hug before she walks in the opposite direction, and I’m left clutching my bag, feeling lost in the masses. Everyone stares me up and down like I’ve got shit stuck to my face, but I know that’s not the case. I simply can’t rinse away the stench of criminals—aka my family.
I close my eyes for a second and take a breath.
Just get through the day, no matter how badly you want to run.
This is your life. This is your future.
The future your parents gave you.
Plenty of people would kill to have this life.
Opening my eyes, I plaster on a smile, then look at the time on my phone.
Suddenly, someone bumps into me, knocking my schedule and phone from my hand.
People scurry past me, but I have no clue what’s going on. I pick up my phone and schedule, but I notice a fight up ahead when I look up.
Fuck, I really shouldn’t be interested. Class could start at any moment now … but I can’t help myself and still walk toward it. I tuck my phone in my pocket and my schedule in my bag, but the second I realize who’s fighting, I drop my bag.
“Jasmine!” I scream, pushing through the crowd to get to her.
A boy pulls at her hair while another tries to steal her bag away from her.
“That’s what you get for shoving me!” one of them shouts.
“Fuck you for calling my sister a clown!” she yells back.
A clown?
Me?
My eyes flash down to my outfit for just a second. All I see is the yellow plaid skirt I sewed and the red top I’m wearing, wondering what part of this makes me look like a clown.
A sudden punch being thrown pulls me out of my thoughts.
Jasmine doesn’t back down and defends herself with everything she’s got, despite being bullied by three boys from all sides. But one of them tackles her from behind, and she lands on the floor with an oompf.
I jump into the fray, not giving a shit about the repercussions as I smack one of the boys right on the head.
The other two start to circle around us while I stand over Jasmine to protect her.
“C’mon then!” I yell at them, holding my fists up.
When one of them approaches me, I swiftly throw a punch, knocking out a tooth.
Another guy grabs me from behind and puts me in an elbow lock. I gasp, but the air gets trapped in my throat.
“Get off her!” Jasmine yells from beneath me as she tries to get up, but another one of the boys keeps her on the floor with his boot pressed firmly on her chest.