Million Dollar School

{ Alessia }

It's my first day at my new school and I'm late. I don't have a phone at the moment so I was relying on my biological clock but it failed for almost half an hour.

I jump out of my old and creaky bed and start pacing back and forth completely disoriented, sleep clouding my thoughts. I put on the uniform that Linda (some woman who said she'll be working for us) left on my desk last night and I put it on as fast as I can.

The uniform is actually kinda nice, the black skirt is short but not too much, and it somehow makes my butt bigger. The shirt is grey with a big logo and I even get to wear a cute bowtie. It looks pretty on me and makes me excited because I've never worn a uniform to school before.

I look at my bloated face on the mirror and I curse myself for crying so much last night but I remind myself that, actually, very few people are going to approach me on my first day. And probably no one will pay attention to me. These things happen and even pretty girls don't look good every day.

I put on my black shoes and arrange all my hair in an outrageously disheveled ponytail that looks so bad it got full circle and somehow looks good now. Or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself.

"I thought you were never going to wake up," my dad grumbles as he feels me coming up behind him with his cosmic powers and lowers a brand new IPad to turn and look at me. He looks great today.

How is it posible that he always looks good? I should have inherited that power and not just his eyes, nose and mustache. And how the fuck did he get an IPad overnight? With what money?

"Well, now I'm ready and it's very late, we'd better get going," I hurry him, taking his coffee cup away from his hands and pulling his arm impatiently, careful not to wrinkle his fancy looking suit too much.

As soon as we're inside a new car that also appeared overnight, I sigh. I can't take this anymore. I try, I really try to trust my dad and respect his boundaries about not wanting to answer my questions, but it’s getting ridiculous now. I need to know something. Anything. So I try to get some information even though I know it'll be useless.

"Whose car is this, by the way?"

"Ours,” he answers, not even looking at me.

"Aha, well, I remember asking for a car a few months ago and you said we were 'struggling’.”

"We were. I-," he takes a super deep breath and for the first time ever, he decides to give in, "When we were in the States, I couldn't access to our money. I didn't lie, we were really struggling. Badly.”

Yeah. I know that.

"And now?"

"Now, well, I have access to all my accounts. To… all my assets. We're not poor anymore and that's all you need to know.”

"Can I have some money, then? Can I have a new phone? It's been weeks and I kinda need one at this point. Also, can I drive this car?"

"I will give you a card and yes, you can buy a new phone, but no, you can't drive yet,” he answers and sounds completely definitive on that last one.

"Why not? I'm not dumb, I could learn fast."

"Maybe, but not right now."

"Fine. But you know, I can tell you're hiding more stuff from me and I'll want a little more info soon.”

"Alessia, please don't start," he complains and shakes his head like I’m stressing him out, “Look, we're here."

Oh.

Damn.

This is the biggest, fanciest school my eyes have ever seen. It's like the schools in the movies, like the schools of princes, of rich people. I think it covers a whole block. The windows are large and long with white outlines and romantic little balconies, there are two giant mahogany doors through which all the students enter and an extravagant fountain in front of the stairs to the doors.

"Wow," I let out, feeling dreamy, "How did you discover this place?"

"Well, it was recommended to me... Turns out Dan Jolie is the owner. And he made himself the principal," he announces as if it's no big deal and my neck immediately turns towards him when I hear that name, with a gigantic grin, “And yes, your twins are here."

"Oh my god! " I exclaim in such a high-pitched voice that it stuns my own ears. My dad puts a hand on my arm to shut me up, "Thank god, I'm not going to be a lonely loser!"

"Wait, wait. Listen, you can't go anywhere, okay? It doesn't matter if you just saw the twins after all this time, you can't leave this school until I come and get you."

"What? Why not?"

I usually have complete freedom once my classes are over.

"Alessia, don't ask me so many questions. If I’m telling you is for a reason," he complains, tired of me. "Just don't go out, please… this is a dangerous place.”

"Sure, whatever you say,” I roll my eyes, annoyed, “I won't even step outside for a breath of fresh air, happy?"

"Don't be such a drama queen, you can go out and wait on the stairs for me to come and get you."

"Fine," I snort and reach up to kiss him on the cheek, he’s a pain in the ass, but he is the best. "I'll see you later, then."

"See you. And please be careful."

Oh, dear god. He is the real drama queen here. In what kind of danger could I be in this fancy place? He was never this way even when when we were living in the worst fucking neighborhood on Atlanta. Gangs aren't dangerous but this million dollar high school is?

I get out of the car and close the door, adjusting on my shoulder the (fake) Prada bag I decided to use as a backpack to fit in here. I made a really good choice, I think. I look at my skirt and shirt again, just to check that I don't have anything on backwards, crooked or just wrong and take a breath to start walking, cheering myself up again because I really need it.

Everything is going to be fine. The twins will be here, they will make me feel at home. I'll find more friends and maybe a cute guy who can replace Graham. Maybe I'll even have more fun here than I would at home.

I round the big fountain and as I start to go up the stairs a blond guy crashes into me unintentionally, but hard. I don't yell at him or anything but I ignore his apologetic smile, I just keep going up... up and up and up and it seems like I'll never finish climbing the stairs until I finally make it and walk through the doors of my new school.

Everything is going to be fine, everything is going to be fine.

Sadly, the start of my experience in this school is not fine at all. I was a complete mess the first hour. I got lost in the hallways several times, I made a fool of myself asking something to a girl who only spoke Italian. I had to look for the secretary who gave me my schedule, I got lost again, I bumped into several presumptuous and rude Italians who just gave me dirty looks and then, finally, I found my classroom, which didn't do much good because when I arrived, sure enough, they were all seated and super quiet in their million-euro cushioned seats that couldn't compare to the ones I had at my previous public school. Not in the slightest.

"Who are you?" the man standing in front of the class asks when I open the door, looking startled by my triumphant entrance because of course I made a lot of noise and looked like a clueless tourist. The man stares at me with a slight frown on his pretty and very confused eyes, waiting for me to answer, but I'm too busy thinking about how beautiful he is and how if he's my teacher, everything just got so much better.

"I'm Alessia Ferreira," I answer after a few awkward seconds and the conversations seem to stop for a second, "Um, I'm new here."

"Oh!" he suddenly exclaims, making a perfect ‘o’ with his, small, red lips. "Miss Ferreira, we were expecting you until Monday. And on time."

“I had serious trouble finding this section of the school and then finding the classroom. I'm sorry," I apologize, embarrassed. I haven't even turned my head to look at my classmates, I just listen to their whispers about me.

"Don't worry," he reassures me with a smile, walking over to his desk. I close the door carefully and follow him shyly, gripping my bag tighter. "Hold on a moment, guys."

When he says that, I finally turn to them and pay attention. They're all looking at me like I'm some kind of weird experiment they don't understand.

Two girls are in the middle with their heads together, whispering about me without taking their eyes off me. Probably noticing my fake purse and how little I belong in a place like this. There is also a guy who seems to be analyzing me like he knows me.

They’re so weird.

"I'm sorry you got lost," the teacher mutters, shuffling some papers. "Mr. Jolie insisted that someone wait for you at the door on Monday, to show you the halls and this section. He says you don't speak Italian and he was afraid you would end up in the other section."

"I did, actually," I admit, trying to smile as if it hadn't been the most humbling experience I've been through in quite a while, "| didn't even know there were sections and all that… my dad insisted I come today, he didn't want me to miss any more classes."

"Ah,” he lets out, stopping for a second and then nodding a lot, like he’s nervous. Maybe he likes me? “I'm so sorry, Miss Ferreira. At lunchtime, I can ask a classmate to show you around the school."

"Don't worry about that, I have some friends here and they can help me to get to know this place."

"Okay. In that case, you can go sit down right now," he says softly after handing me a stack of stapled sheets, pointing towards the only empty chair. He still looks nervous.

"Okay... I'm ready," I whisper to myself as I turn again to the individuals who will be my classmates for the remainder of the school year, which is very little.

There are only like 30 kids in this classroom and according to my papers, every damn class is in this same room with the same people, so I guess the coexistence between these 30 people must be intimate.

They're all quiet and staring at me as I walk to my chair, judging me. This feels incredibly uncomfortable.

Just as I expected, everyone is close and chatting all the time, joking with the teacher and each other like a happy family. I of course am an interloper and they never stop looking at me.

Especially the girls in the center, Tara and Rebecca. They keep looking at me and talking about me for the three classes before lunch.

What the hell is their problem with me? They hate me for being ugly? Well, I can understand that, but they haven't seen me at my best so they don't know the wonders makeup does for my face.

They spent the entire three hours giving me curious looks and then leaning in together to talk, obviously bad about me.

The classes are exactly the same as at my old school. It's the same subjects, same words and same things that I don't really care about. The only difference is that we'll have the same teacher for most of the clases, except Math and Italian.

I walk out into the hallway when it's lunchtime with my hands balled into fists, eyes lost, body tense and walking awkwardly, wishing I had a phone if only to pretend I’m talking to someone.