Miss Nobody’s Strike-Back

Chapter 2: Miss Nobody

Chapter 2: Miss Nobody

The first few days at Ashford Academy passed in a blur of unfamiliar faces, grand hallways, and endless rules that Alice Wrenford struggled to keep straight in her mind. The sense of awe she had felt upon her arrival quickly faded, replaced by a gnawing feeling of unease. Every corner of the academy reminded her of how different she was — not just from her fellow students but from the very air of privilege that seemed to permeate the place.

Classes had begun, but Alice found little comfort in the structure of the academic day. The classrooms were large, filled with long rows of desks and students who seemed to have already formed their own tightly knit circles. Everywhere she turned, it was the same: students clustered together in groups, talking in low voices, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. But no one spoke to her. No one even seemed to notice her, except when they whispered behind her back.

Her first real encounter with the other students came during the afternoon break on her second day. Alice had found a quiet spot in the gardens behind the academy, hoping to escape the overwhelming noise of the school’s corridors. She sat on a stone bench under a tall oak tree, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze. As she stared at the sprawling estate in front of her, she heard footsteps approaching.

Three girls, all dressed in the finest fabrics and adorned with ribbons and lace, were walking toward her. Alice recognized them immediately. They were part of Victoria Pembroke’s circle — the elite group of girls who seemed to command the attention of everyone around them. The one in the center, with dark curls and sharp features, was Lydia Thorne, a close friend of Victoria’s. To her right was Evelyn Carrow, her dress a delicate pale blue, and on her left, Isabelle Fairchild, whose laughter was always just a little too loud.

As they neared, Alice felt her heart rate quicken. She lowered her eyes, hoping they would pass by without noticing her. But they didn’t.

“Well, well,” Lydia’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Look who we have here. The scholarship girl.”

Alice looked up, her heart sinking. The way Lydia said it — “scholarship girl” — made it sound like an insult. The other girls exchanged glances, their eyes filled with amusement.

“What’s your name again?” Lydia asked, her tone dripping with false curiosity.

“Alice,” she replied quietly.

Lydia raised an eyebrow, as though unimpressed. “Alice... what?”

“Alice Wrenford.”

The three girls exchanged looks again, and then Lydia let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Wrenford. How quaint.”

Alice felt her cheeks flush, but she said nothing. There was something about the way they looked at her that made her feel small, insignificant. She had never felt like this back in her village, where people had known her family for generations. But here, at Ashford Academy, it was as if her entire identity had been reduced to her lack of wealth and status.

“I heard she’s from some little village,” Isabelle said, her voice loud enough for Alice to hear, though she pretended to speak only to her friends.

“A village?” Lydia scoffed. “That explains the clothes.”

The girls looked at Alice’s simple woolen dress, clearly unimpressed. Compared to the fine fabrics and detailed embroidery they wore, her attire was plain, almost peasant-like. Alice’s stomach twisted with embarrassment.

“She must feel terribly out of place,” Evelyn chimed in, her voice saccharine and mocking. “Poor thing. It’s a wonder she’s lasted even this long.”

Alice wanted to disappear, to sink into the earth and escape their cruel words. But she stayed rooted to the bench, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The girls continued to hover, as if waiting for her to say something, but Alice couldn’t find the words.

Finally, Lydia let out a bored sigh. “Come on, girls,” she said, turning away. “We’ve wasted enough time on Miss Nobody.”

With that, they walked away, their laughter ringing in the air long after they had gone. Alice sat there for a long moment, her heart heavy, the weight of their words pressing down on her. Miss Nobody. The nickname had fallen from Lydia’s lips with such ease, and Alice knew that it wouldn’t take long for it to spread through the academy.

Over the next few days, her fears were confirmed.

The whispers began in the hallways, growing louder with each passing hour. Wherever she went, Alice could feel the stares, the knowing looks exchanged between students as they passed her by. “Miss Nobody” had stuck. She heard it muttered under breaths in the dining hall, saw it scribbled in the margins of books and on the walls of the bathrooms. The other girls had made sure that everyone knew who she was — or rather, who she wasn’t.

The nickname was more than just cruel; it was a reminder of her place in this world. Alice wasn’t like the other students at Ashford Academy. She didn’t come from money, didn’t have a title or connections. She had no grand estates to inherit or family name to protect. In their eyes, she was nobody — a girl who had been let in by accident, a charity case, someone who didn’t deserve to be there.

Even in the classroom, Alice couldn’t escape it. Though she excelled in her studies, answering questions with confidence and performing well on assignments, the other students refused to acknowledge her. When a teacher called on her, the room would go silent, all eyes turning toward her, as though waiting for her to make a mistake. And when she didn’t, there was only indifference. No praise, no recognition. Just silence.

Lunchtimes were the worst. The dining hall was a grand room, with long wooden tables and high ceilings that made every sound echo. Alice would take her tray and search for a place to sit, but it was always the same. The tables were full of students laughing, talking, and enjoying themselves, yet there was no space for her. The few times she had tried to sit near someone, they had moved away, whispering to each other as though her very presence was contagious.

So, she had taken to sitting alone, at the end of one of the long tables, as far away from the others as possible. The food tasted bland, no matter how rich the academy’s kitchen was. It was hard to swallow with the lump in her throat that grew bigger every day.

The isolation was suffocating. Alice had always been shy, preferring her own company or the quiet of the village over large social gatherings. But here, her shyness felt like a curse. She didn’t know how to break into the groups that surrounded her. The other students had grown up together, their families intertwined in a web of wealth and power that stretched back generations. They had inside jokes, shared histories, and a language of privilege that Alice simply didn’t understand.

As the days passed, the weight of it all began to press down on her, slowly, but surely. She would lie in her small room at night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how she had thought she could survive here. The scholarship that had seemed like such a blessing now felt like a curse. She had been thrown into a world where she didn’t belong, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were right. Maybe she was nobody.

And yet, in those quiet moments of doubt, there was a small spark of defiance inside her. Alice had always been a fighter, even if she didn’t always show it. Her father had taught her the value of hard work and perseverance, and her mother had reminded her time and time again that being kind and humble was more valuable than any amount of money.

So, even as the whispers grew louder and the nickname stuck, Alice refused to let it break her completely. She wouldn’t give Victoria Pembroke and her friends the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. Miss Nobody she might be, but she wouldn’t be invisible. Not for long.

Alice didn’t know how, or when, but something had to change. She would make sure of it.