Page 8 of Wild Elite

3

Tatum

One week later

Steppingonto the Roden University campus felt like stepping into another world.

Even in the wintertime, the place had an exquisite, almost-celestial sense to it that created an atmosphere of rich antiquity. The Gothic-style buildings were tall and grand, sweeping upwards with awe-inspiring grace. They were made from patterned gray and brown brick and stone with carvings of leaves and birds, and deep green ivy wound its way up the walls. The arches were pointed, the ceilings were vaulted, and the windows were made from decorated leaded glass. Stone statues and fountains were plentiful throughout the grounds.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this place was constructed over a thousand years ago in the heart of Europe. I could only imagine how much more beautiful it would look in warmer seasons without the thick snow coating the ground, because Roden was famed for its gardens as well as its Gothic architecture.

My parents and I had already had a brief look around the beautiful campus ourselves when we arrived a couple of hours ago, but now we were standing outside the lavish building which housed the Dean’s office, waiting for someone to give us an official tour. I’d spoken with the Dean earlier during a meet-and-greet for students who’d been granted early acceptance, and I couldn’t wait to get a proper look around the grounds and find out where I’d be living when I finally arrived here for college next year.

Over the last week, I’d been vaguely hesitating about my place at Roden—even though it was an amazing opportunity—because of the drama it could bring into my life, given that it was the most favored college for the kids of the uber-rich. Something like forty percent of enrolments were legacies, and I knew a lot of them ran in the same social circles I was now actively trying to avoid after last week’s incident at the Van der Veer mansion.

In the end, though, I always knew I’d wind up accepting the scholarship offer. I’d be absolutely crazy not to.

Besides, it wasn’t like I had to get sucked into any weird, dramatic stuff just because I’d be around all these privileged people. Roden might have a lot of super-rich students, but it also handed out a lot of scholarships, so of the sixty percent of students who weren’t legacies, at least a third of them were from lower-income brackets like me, lucky enough to obtain a full ride through college without having to take out enormous loans. That meant there’d be plenty of people in the same boat as me. People who truly understood what it was like to try and fit in amongst the most exclusive members of America’s elite despite coming from nothing.

My mom turned to look at me, her brows puckered. “God, I still can’t believe you got the scholarship, honey. This campus is incredible.”

“What are you saying, Rachel?” Dad interjected before I could reply. “You don’t think she’s smart enough?”

He winked at me, and Mom rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Bruce. You know I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that it’s so competitive, and with the awful year Tatum’s had, it’s quite surreal that she got in for free.”

“Don’t worry, I knew what you meant,” I said, wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck. Outside, the sky was patchy with just enough sunshine to fool you into thinking it might actually be warm despite all the snow, but it was freezing all the same. The wind had just kicked up too, sending fallen dead leaves twirling in dizzy circles before slapping them back to the icy ground. It looked like whirlwinds of red and yellow confetti.

“It won’t be easy to let you go,” my mother went on, her brows knitting gloomily as she cast her eyes around the campus.

I grinned. “Mom, our house is only a half hour drive from here. I’ll see you all the time.”

A lot of people I’d met online over the years on games or forums tended to assume that every part of Connecticut was wealthy and WASP-y, especially along the Gold Coast. Many of them even took to nicknaming me ‘Rich Girl’ whenever I mentioned where I was born and raised. They didn’t realize that even in the richest parts of the state, there were still many boroughs where people struggled to pay their bills and relied on thick clothing to get through the winter because heating cost too much.

I came from one of those places—an enclave of small, dilapidated houses and shops just around the corner from obscene wealth and houses the size of malls— and it was practically down the road from New Marwick.

Mom had lost her job as a teacher years ago and been unable to find employment since, and Dad’s surveying company hadn’t performed well in what felt like forever. Too much competition. They’d considered moving to another state a few times, but it hadn’t worked out, and we’d continued struggling our way through life, scrimping and saving to make ends meet.

As a child, I frequently overheard my parents speaking in hushed, worried tones in their bedroom about how they could barely afford to feed me, and a few times I even heard my mother frantically say they should’ve never had me. It stung, but I knew she was just in a dark place at the time. Lack of money could do that to people, so I tried to help out where I could, picking up babysitting gigs around the neighborhood when I was in junior high so that my parents could have a few extra dollars for bills and groceries.

For the last few years, I’d also spent my summers working ten hour days at a beach kiosk while teens who lived less than an hour away summered in Switzerland or St Bart’s with limitless credit cards and private jets. Yes, it made me insecure and envious as hell at the time—not gonna lie—but it also gave me the drive to work hard in school so that I’d have the chance to score myself a world-class education, get a good job and pay for my family to take a few nice summers off ourselves in the future.

My work had paid off, because a degree from Roden was like having a key to the city in many places, and I would get it all free of charge.

“Hi! Are you Tatum Marris?”

A bubbly voice came from somewhere on our left. We turned to see a young woman smiling at us. She was about the same height as me, and she shared my chestnut brown hair and blue eyes. That was where the similarities ended.

Her pretty, foxlike face was made up so perfectly that it wouldn’t surprise me to learn she had her own private makeup artist, and her locks were glossy and styled perfectly. Her outfit looked like it cost more than our monthly rent, too, even though it was fairly understated and minimalist. When you lived in a place like this, you tended to get an eye for that sort of stuff.

I nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

She beamed and stuck a hand out. “I’m Mellie. I’ve been asked to give you a tour today. Ready to go?”

“Sure. It’s nice to meet you.”

Mom and Dad gave us both tight smiles. “Why don’t you go on ahead without us, Tatum?” Dad said. “We’ve got a few things to do ourselves, and a potential client is in the area and wants to speak to me. It was lovely to meet you, though, Mellie.”

I frowned. I didn’t realize my parents had other plans today, but I couldn’t complain. Work was work. “Oh, okay. I’ll call you when we’re done.”

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