Too Rich to Be Real
542 Words
EPISODE 2 : Regal Heights, Ready or Not
Regal Heights Academy did not look like a school. It looked like the kind of place where royalty dropped their kids off in horse-drawn Teslas.
The gates alone were taller than Fave’s old apartment building. And the security guards wore suits so sharp, they could’ve sliced bread.
Fave sat in the backseat of her dad’s sleek black car, clutching her school bag like it might run away. The bag, by the way, had Dora the Explorer on it — not by choice, but because she liked the pockets. Her stylist had cried when she saw it. Her mother had said it was “unacceptable.” Fave just shrugged.
Inside the car, silence hung like perfume — thick and artificial.
“You’ll do well,” her dad said, adjusting his designer cufflinks. “Just… be presentable.”
Fave smiled politely. “Define presentable.”
He didn’t answer. Typical.
The car rolled through the golden gates, and Fave saw her future flash before her eyes — not in fear, but in fashion. Everywhere she looked, there were students who looked like they stepped off magazine covers. Glossy lips. Glossy shoes. Even the boys had designer backpacks.
Her heart thudded.
She was wearing a simple cream blouse (iron-burned at the side), a brown pleated skirt (borrowed from her mum’s “modest phase”), and sandals. Yes, sandals. On the first day of school. At Regal Heights.
Was she nervous? No.
She was terrified.
A girl in a Gucci blazer raised an eyebrow as Fave stepped out of the car. Another whispered, “Who let the maid enroll?”
Fave heard it. Loud and clear.
She smiled.
The principal — a tall, no-nonsense woman with icy lipstick and the kind of heels that meant business — met her at the steps. “Ah, Miss Bernard. Welcome to Regal Heights. I see you’ve… made an impression already.”
“Happy to help,” Fave said, adjusting her Dora bag.
The tour was quick. Fave saw classrooms with smartboards larger than her grandmother’s TV, a swimming pool the size of a stadium, and a cafeteria that looked like a five-star buffet.
But the best part?
The library.
It had three floors, secret reading pods, and more books than Fave could ever finish in ten lifetimes. For a moment, she forgot about the whispers, the outfits, and the pressure. Here, she was just a girl who loved stories.
But peace is expensive — and short-lived.
Her first class? Public Speaking.
The teacher smiled brightly. “We’ll begin with introductions. Say your name, three things about you, and what you’re most passionate about.”
Fave stood, heart pounding.
“Hi, I’m Fave Bernard,” she began.
“Bernard?” someone gasped. “Like… the Bernards?”
She ignored it.
“Three things about me: I love cooking, I love books, and I’m bad at dressing.” The class chuckled. She smiled. “And I’m passionate about being myself — even when it’s not trending.”
Silence.
Then… a single clap.
Then more.
Someone whistled.
The whispers didn’t stop. But now, they were mixed with curiosity.
Maybe… just maybe… Fave didn’t need to fit in.
Maybe she was here to stand out.
- Writer
