CHAPTER 2
995 Words
IAN
She looked small under my stare. This was the girl my parents wouldn’t stop talking about at breakfast.
My father’s words played in my head, heating my blood. “Emily Eren, she's a gem. It seems those who weren't living comfortably could do better than you, Ian. You have everything and still got a D in economics!”
Remembering it made me angrier. It was the only time I’d ever gotten less than a B, but to my father, it was like I’d always been a failure.
Then my mother’s voice: “We are the biggest contributors to the scholarship program, Ian. You could at least learn from her.”
Learn from her? I thought. She's going to learn a whole lot from me.
But looking at her now didn’t make me angry. It made me feel… almost excited. This was going to be fun.
“Sorry??” Her shaky voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Ian Whitmore!” Mr. Frank’s voice cut through the classroom. “Break it up and quit disrupting my class!”
I didn’t even look at him. My eyes stayed on her.
“Forgive me, Mr. Frank,” I said calmly, with a faint smile.
I turned back to Emily. “Miss Eren. Wrong seat,” I stated, my voice even.
“Oh–, I— I’m sorry,” she stammered.
The class giggled around us.
“Now, move,” I instructed.
She quickly gathered her things and moved to the empty desk beside mine. I sat down.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Frank,” I said, offering my most sincere smile.
We’re just getting started, Miss Emily, I thought to myself. It’s going to be so nice having you here.
EMILY
I closed my eyes, trying to escape what just happened. I bit my lower lip so hard I almost tasted blood. I felt trapped. I couldn't breathe.
I could feel everyone in the classroom staring at me. I was having a panic attack.
I clutched the fabric of my shirt, right over my pounding heart. I couldn't get enough air.
“Miss Emily, are you ok?” Mr. Frank called out.
“I—I— I’m….” I stuttered, my voice trembling.
“You can take a minute outside and freshen up,” he said, his voice kinder now.
I shot up from my seat.
“I’ll come with you,” Abby suggested quickly.
I almost ran out of the room, with Abby right behind me. I didn't stop until we were out of the hallway and I could gulp the fresh air. I stood there, one hand still on my chest, trying to steady my breathing.
“I’m sorry about all that, Emily,” Abby said with a soft sigh.
I took a deep breath and finally looked at her. She had a genuinely sad look on her face. At least one person wasn't looking at me like I was a freak.
“It’s fine,” I said, still catching my breath. “I guess it just wasn’t my day.”
“Ian could be an asshole sometimes,” she added.
“Sometimes?” I burst out laughing, the sound a little shaky.
“Okay, fine—most of the time,” she admitted, a grin spreading across her face. “Honestly, don’t give him the satisfaction of getting to you.”
“He’s a jerk,” I muttered, feeling a real smile break through for the first time.
“Of course, he is,” she responded, funnily rolling her eyes.
“Who is he, anyway?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s Ian Whitmore. His parents practically keep this place running. They’re the academy’s biggest donors. Old money, super prominent family. He’s literally the crown prince here.”
As soon as she said it, my stomach dropped.
Oh no. This isn’t good. I felt a cold sweat trickle down my back.
“Ahem,” I cleared my throat. “—I’m sorry, do you mean the ‘Platinum Circle Volunteers’?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Huh? Speak in English, girl,” Abby teased, looking confused.
“Oh no. It’s definitely them,” I said out loud, pressing my hand to my forehead.
My legs began to shake. Why was all of this happening to me? I suddenly regretted ever being happy about getting into this school. The cool air now felt like it was choking me, and my chest felt tight.
“Emily!! Talk to me, you’re literally going pale right now,” she said, grabbing my hand.
I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, forcing myself to calm down.
“You know I’m a scholarship student, right?” I asked.
“Yes, girl. Not just any—the highest scorer too!” she replied quickly, wiggling her eyebrows.
I gave her a look.
“Oh, sorry. You can go on,” she apologized with a sheepish smile.
I continued, “The scholarship program has different levels of donors. Think of it like a ladder. The Platinum Circle is at the very top. Then come the Gold Benefactors, Silver Patrons, Bronze Sponsors, and finally, the Ivory Circle.”
“Yeah, I still don’t get it,” Abby said, biting her lip and squinting like the answer was written on the air.
“Abby,” I cried out, my voice strained. “Ian’s parents are the Platinum Circle.”
“Ohhh—wait, hang on—now I’m even more confused,” she said, her tone full of playful sarcasm.
I let out a weak laugh.
“Come on, Emily, explain it to me. I promise I’ll act like I'm keeping up,” Abby said, smirking.
I forced a smile, but my stomach was in knots. How could I explain to her that the Platinum Circle, Ian’s family, had personally requested my presence at their dinner table tonight?
Yeah, I thought. What could possibly go wrong today?
- Writer
