Page 442 of Filthy Elites

Laughing, I shake my head and then pull her away, dragging her past The Elite and into the school.

TWO

Sebastian

“Fly away, little bird,”I mutter quietly as I watch her drag her friend across the parking lot and into the school building. Despite the dirty sneakers and messy braid, my little bird is just as beautiful as always. I noticed her the moment she walked through the doors the first day of term last year. So pretty, so sweet, so innocent.

I thought about taking her right then and there, separating her from her friend and making her mine for the whole school to see. But I didn’t. I’m an Elite, I have a certain reputation to uphold, a legacy to protect, and there’s no way I could risk it all by touching a freshman.

GAA has been providing an education to the youth of North Acres for over a hundred years. According to the records, there’s been Elites here since the very start and the tradition will continue long after we leave. With The Elite legacy comes rules, and one of those is that evenwedon’t get to mess with the freshmen.

Everyone who enters these hallowed halls has a year to show the rest of the school who they are. A whole year to sink or swim. Those who swim survive, those who sink do not, but everyone gets their year.

Me and my friends are an exception. We didn’t just swim after our arrival at the school, we soared, and The Elite at the time saw that. It pissed off a lot of people when Clay, Evan, Hunter and I were named as Elites at the end of our freshmen year. When we beat down anyone who thought to question our status, it soon became common knowledge to everyone that we are the kings of this school until the day we leave.

Sure, I could probably have broken the rules and claimed my girl, but I wanted to watch her, to see what she did, see the impact she’d make before I took her. For a whole year I’ve watched and waited, refusing to allow myself to become any more obsessed. I don’t even know her name, all I know is that she’s mine. Now her year is up, and it’s time to elevate her to her rightful place at my side.

“You ready to know?” Clay asks from beside me.

It’s rare I ever let anyone sneak up on me, my little bird is the only thing that distracts me enough that I stop paying attention to what’s going on around me. “Let’s go in,” I tell him, not answering his question just in case anyone else is listening in.

Clay whistles, and both Evan and Hunter’s heads turn in this direction.

“Let’s go,” I say, tipping my head toward the school building.

Standing, they brush off the bunnies that are crawling all over them and head over. Clay and I start to walk and a sudden hush falls over the students that are mulling around. The reverence and adulation should be cringeworthy, and it kind of is, but I’m not going to lie, it’s good to be king.

Being Elite is more than just a status thing, we also have a role within the school we’re expected to play. We maintain peace between the students, enforce the ancient GAA rules and mete out punishments when we have to. The faculty trust us to do what’s expected and in repayment, they turn a blind eye to whatever we do to keep order.

When GAA originally opened it was a boarding school, but thirty years ago the last dorm shut down and the rooms were repurposed. The one room that remains intact and relatively unchanged from all those years ago, is The Elite common room. This room has belonged to the reigning Elites for nearly a hundred years. It’s a sacred space that only The Elite can use.

The familiar smell of old leather, books and cinnamon hits me the moment I push through the door. For every other reigning Elite in the past, this room has only been theirs for a year. For us, this is our third, and as such we’ve left our mark more so than our predecessors. We’ve added a few updates, like a huge flat-screen TV, a PlayStation and a fancy coffee machine. But more than that, this is our private space where we can relax without the constant adoration and scrutiny of the rest of the school.

I wait for the others to enter the room and close the door before I speak. “Tell me everything.”

THREE

Starling

Okay,so maybe being a sophomore does come with a few perks. My locker is in a much better position and my homeroom is in the main building instead of being in the cold annex that used to be one of the dorms from back when the school had student housing.

Sophomores can use the coffee cart in the quad and we get to have lunch in the restaurant-style cafeteria complete with serving staff, instead of the freshmen one where you have to line up with your tray.

On the other side though, sophomores are fair game to the older kids. There’s an unwritten rule at GAA that freshmen are off-limits. No one gets to bully them or do anything to them; they’re basically ignored for the first year, but after that, all bets are off.

Our sophomore class is down ten people. Seven boys and three girls have apparently transferred to other schools, which is kind of weird considering the next closest private school is nearly an hour away, and there aren’t any public schools in North Acres.

Now that everyone is fair game, I’ve already seen one kid in my class being dragged into an empty classroom by a bunch of juniors. I’d have intervened, but the kid, Elliot, is a gradeAasshole who tried to shove his hand up my skirt this morning. Him getting his ass kicked kind of feels like karma.

Courtney and I are in different classes this year which sucks. She’s super smart and her parents have her in all AP classes, I think they’re hoping she’ll be able to skip a grade and graduate early. I’m a middle-of-the-road, average student, and right now there are no AP classes in my future unless I want to fail them. So I’ve been friendless all morning while Court learns all the important stuff they teach to the brainiacs.

Heading to my locker, I twist the combination into my lock and pull it open, shoving my backpack inside and pulling my wallet and cell out. School rules say no cells, except at lunch. It drives my social-butterfly bestie crazy, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I don’t really have any friends here except for Court. I went to grade school with most of the kids in my class, but once they realized I wasn’t one of them, I became a social pariah. Only Court stuck by me once she realized my family was just normal and not superrich.

“Hey, bestie,” she singsongs as she skips down the hall toward me. Court has so much pep she could take on the entire cheer squad on her own. She’s bouncy and enthusiastic and well, she just has an awful lot of school spirit. I’m the opposite, I go here because my mom spent a small fortune to send me here. I don’t love the place, in fact I don’t even particularly like the place. But the alternative is the public school in South Acres, where you have to go through metal detectors and have your bag checked for weapons before you can even get inside.

Court barely breathes as she talks at a hundred miles an hour, telling me about all the drama she’s heard this morning. Someone’s parents split up and are in the middle of a very nasty and very public divorce. Someone’s dad got arrested for embezzlement, and someone else is fucking their pool boy. I listen and nod in all the right places. This stuff is important to Court because she’s a part of their world, but I’m not. I have a job and bills and responsibilities; I don’t care what the rich bitches of North Acres are doing.

“Are you listening to me?” she snaps.

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