The Whole Family Begged Me to Come Back Chapter 2

I made it. I was standing in a Sterling Crest classroom.

The usual cacophony of the rich and bored paused as they took me in, their eyes wide with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"What is she wearing? Are those… holes? Is that Louis Vuitton's new war-torn Baghdad collection?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's obviously Chanel's dystopian couture."

"The fabric is incredible, though. It's so worn, but it hasn't completely disintegrated. Can't be designer. Only cheap knock-offs are built to last like that."

"Oh, you'd know all about cheap, wouldn't you?"

"Are you calling me cheap? You're dead! I'm telling my father to pull all his investments from your family's company tomorrow!"

Two of the boys were now wrestling on the floor between desks.

I calmly navigated around them, my face a mask of neutrality, and found my assigned seat in the corner, right next to the trash can.

I tuned out the whispers and jeers. After the things I'd heard from my own parents, the taunts of these spoiled brats were like background noise. I had a place to study. I had a shot at a real future. That's all that mattered.

To my surprise, no one actively bullied me.

During a break, a girl with bright, curious eyes and a genuinely sweet smile bounced over to my desk. Her name was Willow Fairchild.

"Aria," she said, her head tilted. "Why are your clothes so… vintage? Didn't you like any of the new season's collections?"

"Is it possible," I said dryly, "that I simply can't afford them?"

"Why not? Did your parents cut off your allowance? You can just draw from your trust fund, can't you?"

I sighed. A trust fund. What was that?

Willow propped her chin on her hand. "So, how'd you get here this morning?"

"I walked. Woke up before dawn."

"Why didn't you just have your driver bring you?"

"I don't have a car. Or a driver."

"Oh. Well, why not take your motorcycle?"

"Don't have one of those either."

"Oh! I get it," she said, her eyes lighting up. "You only fly. Your helicopter must be in for repairs this morning, right?"

I hid my face behind my textbook. Forget it. We were speaking different languages.