“Anyway …” Aryan clears his throat, changing the subject. We both let him. “Have you guys taken Mr Mathew’s test yet? Everyone is talking about how hard it is.”
“I have, it was really easy,” I respond, leaning into the crook of Victoria's neck.
I feel her laugh against me. “Everythingis easy for you.”
“Yeah, it is,” I reply cockily.
I receive a light push from them both for my comment, but not a word of protest.
Why else would I be the go-to tutor at Richmond academy? I’m academically gifted; it’s a simple fact. There is not a single subject that I don’t excel at and yes, I’m not very modest about it.
While most of my academic prowess was naturally built, I work exceedingly harder than anyone at this privileged school, so I have no shame in boasting about how intelligent I am. Iearnedthat right.
The bell rings loudly, ending my boasting. Both my friends groan at the sound.
“Ugh, I’ve got math,” Aryan whines in that lovable way he usually does.
“French.”
“Biology.” I beam. They both groan in unison at my obvious excitement. They could make fun of me all they wanted—and they often did—but that would never change how much I adored biology. I would get down on my knees, even sell everyone I know if biology asked me to. It’s my absolutely favourite subject. I’ve loved biology ever since I was a child and realized I wanted to become a surgeon.
“Try not to orgasm in class.” Aryan teases me.
I mock—laugh at him before kicking his shin quickly and running away, ignoring his cries and Victoria’s giggles.
I make my way into class, ignoring the scalding gaze of the other students as I take my seat.
“Good afternoon,” Professor Khalid greets as he walks in and places his bags down on the table in the middle of the science lab.
His five-foot eight stature is hunched and his jet-black hair ruffled beyond belief. Even his beard isn’t as neat as it usually looks.
If this was any other teacher, I wouldn’t notice these things, but he’s the most tolerable teacher at Richmond. I tend to notice the small things when I can actually stand someone.
“Class will be starting a little later today as I have important matters to attend to. I’ll be back to teach in half an hour, feel free to use that time to revise in class …”
He doesn’t even finish his sentence before most of the students scramble out of the classroom, desperate to get any time away from this class. He seems to do the same, jetting out of the lab.
Obviously, I don’t leave, I just use this time to take out my biology textbook and revise instead. Final A-level exams are in a few months; I need to be completely prepared. I can’t risk not being accepted into university; Oxford, more precisely. It’s my dream school. It has been since I was ten and I saw an advert on the back of a bus.
I always knew I wanted to be a surgeon, but I never knew which university I would go to until that day. I didn’t have a phone or a book to keep me company then, so I just stared at the poster for most of the bus ride. I’m not sure why, but it stuck with me and rightfully so; it’s a prestigious university after all.
I want to fantasize more about my future as well as continue reading my favourite textbook, but I can’t, because of that sound. I can hear the clicking of heels walking towards me and stopping right before my desk.
“I bet that textbook makes you want to touch yourself.”
I know that voice. I could pick that velvet voice out of a line up—only because it infuriates me so much.
It makes my neck burn and my jaw clench. I feel like I can’t breathe anytime I hear it. I begrudgingly look up and see the owner of the said voice.
Juliette
Kingston!
The bane of my existence. Satan’s spawn herself. Her ice-blue, siren like eyes peering down at me through her lusciously long eyelashes and her pearly white teeth biting down on her plump, bottom lip, goading me with her smile. She’s scrunching her upturned nose at me, like I’m completely beneath her.
Then there’s that hair; that long golden-blonde hair that always looks perfect, with no strand out of place. The same hair that had me mesmerized when my eyes first caught a glimpse of her at the tender age of twelve. I thought she was the most ethereal girl I had ever seen in my entire life… until she opened her mouth.
Juliette is everything you assume a rich, blonde girl would be. She’s the cheer captain. Even though cheerleading isn’t as popular here in England, she still somehow manages to excel at it. She’s the most popular girl in school, the girl who everyone wants to either be or be with. Think of Regina George, but mind-numbingly worse, then you have Juliette Kingston.
