Page 15 of Bittersweet Legacy

She took the folder and scanned it before taking me in the direction of the lockers.

“My name is Anne White and I've been the librarian of this fine school for eight years now,” she chuckled to herself. “Time goes by so fast when you have fun.”

She stopped in front of the blue locker by the girls’ toilet. “Not a bad location,” she confirmed my own assessment. “You can’t make a mistake, lockers in every corridor are a different color. Just remember blue by the toilet and you’ll be fine.”

She turned the schedule toward me. “It’s quite easy, really. All the rooms starting with 1 are on this floor, rooms starting with 2 are upstairs.”

“Okay…”

“The letter following the number will tell you which side to take. So for 2R12,” She pointed at my first class of the day, “you need to go upstairs on your right and just follow the numbering. When it’s L, it’s left. Anything with a S, is straight ahead.”

I smiled at her. “Clear enough.”

She patted my arm. “I think you will get your manual in each class but if you need any help, you can find me in the library,” she pointed at the brown door close to the main entrance.

My morning classes went by uneventfully. At least the teachers didn’t make me go to the front of the room to introduce myself.

When lunch hit, nerves began to spread as I stood in from the double doors leading to the cafeteria, my hands clammy with apprehension – Archie and his gang of rich assholes ignored me completely this morning, only looking at me with the same kind of disgusted rictus on their faces that somehow cut me deep. Didn’t he understand I didn’t want to be here just as much as he didn’t want me?

I wiped my hand against the red pleated skirt I was wearing, straightening my back. I would not show him how it affected me. I was not here forever, I’d find a way out soon enough.

As soon as I walked in, the conversations stopped. I sighed. So much for inconspicuous.

I glanced around the room, stopping at my brother’s table. He was sitting there with his little band of merry assholes and their groupies. I held his glare for a few seconds, head high, chin up.

I wasn’t scared, I had the kind of life that gave me an advantage Although it hurt that my own brother hated me, I knew it was a phase, just a blip in my life. I would be 18 soon enough and the reputation of this school would help me get a scholarship somewhere. This was just my senior year, not a life sentence.

I took a plate and some cutlery, and it was enough to show the difference between my former public school and the American Elites-enabler establishment that was Brentwood Academy. The glasses were actual glass, the plates porcelain, and the cutlery? I was pretty sure it was silverware.

Even the food was a whole other quality and smell. No sign of the undescriptive ragout, hard mash, cold pizza or chicken nuggets that were not even 1% chicken – here, it was smoked salmon tagliatelle, coq au vin, whatever that was, and vegetables cooked to perfection.

I settled for the pasta and strolled to an empty table for two, avoiding my brother and his mates altogether.

After sitting down, I picked up the novel I’d taken from my stepmother’s collection. I had barely started to read when a plate clattered onto the other side of the table.

I looked up and arched an eyebrow at the girl grinning at me as she sat down in the chair facing mine.

“Hi, I’m Taylor but you can call me Tay!” she beamed.

“Hi Taylor – I’m Esme” I replied, somehow confused by her cheerfulness. Didn’t she know I was ‘persona non grata’, as I imagine they say here?

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh believe me I know everything about you, Esmeralda Forbes – This school is gossip central!” she snorted, popping a French fry in her mouth. “It’s the good thing about being an outsider, you hear everything.”

I detailed her as she kept eating her fries. She was way too cheery to be an outcast and way too pretty. She had long black hair, hazel eyes, the slight olive hue of her skin and slanted eyes led me to think she was mixed raced. She was absolutely beautiful, and the fact she was attending this school, along with her Louis Vuitton school bag and jewellery, proved she was just as rich as the other students were.

YOU’RE just as rich now, Esme,I thought, still unable to grasp the truth of this statement.

The only reason for her outsider status that I could see was that she was plump, all curves which suited her perfectly. I hoped I was wrong because I didn’t think I could dislike them anymore than I already did.

“You’re wondering why I’m an outcast?” she asked, her humour never leaving her.

I chuckled. “Yeah…” Her positive energy was contagious.

“I’m a muggleblood!” She staged whispered

I gasped in fake shock, resting my hand on my chest. “No!”

We both laughed and I couldn’t help but look at my brother’s table, both him and his blond friend were glaring in our direction.

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