High Life | ✔️

16

RICHMOND PARK ACADEMY was an ecosystem of it's own. It had it's own fashion trends and customs.

Due to strict school rules that prohibited students from getting overly creative with the dress code, students really tried their best to stand out in terms of hairstyle and foot covering. I arrived to Richmond Park with sensible Mary Janes, according to the Recommended Dress Code section laid down on RPA's official website.

Unbeknownst to me, October was Oxford shoe month. I walked to class with girls sneering in my wake. Emily, my new seat mate in Calculus, was kind enough to point out the anomaly on my feet during a 5 minute break.

"Mary Janes are sooo last month," Emily whispered. Not in a mean way, just in a matter-of-fact way.

As someone who failed to comprehend how one's shoes factored into one's future, I merely blinked. "So?"

Emily's face paled in mortification. "So? Did you just say so? In the face of elevating your social status? You are committing social suicide!"

I, again blinked at her, unsure how to respond.

"I'm supposed to get Oxford shoes now?"

Emily nodded urgently. "Wait, what are you?"

I recognized the question, it was ubiquitous in small talk carried out by strangers.

"Faction five," I replied. The words still sounded strange coming from my mouth. The entire Factional system gave the school this dystopian air. It felt surreal being apart of a 'faction', much less declaring such aloud.

Emily's features twisted. "No wonder," was all she said.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Nothing," she chirped, the slightly sour expression immediately transforming into a bright smile. "I'm a twelve, by the way."

"What's twelve like?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What are the people within like?"

Her features continued to twist in perplexity and bewilderment. "Uh, I don't know? Kind of popular, I guess."

From in front, I could hear Jaxon snickering. My face twisted into a scowl at the memory of last night's events. Out of nowhere, I recalled someone saying something about Factions 2, 8 and 12 being the least intelligent factions. I wasn't one to judge people based on first impressions but...

"What are you dressing as for Halloween?" Emily asked me.

I slowly turned to look at her. "Isn't Halloween in like, a month?"

"Yeah!" she nodded with urgency. "That's too soon, oh my gosh. I was thinking of going as a cat or a devil."

Not typical at all.

"I went as Daenerys last year," I told Emily. "I used to have her hair."

"What? Who?"

"Game of Thrones?" I asked. "You know, that dragon chick?"

Emily's stare was blank. "What game is that? I've never heard of it."

Ms. Elliot, the Calculus teacher returned to the classroom then, effectively ending all hushed conversations that were taking place.

I dreaded History class for several reasons. First and foremost, because we were covering the boring part of the U.S. history right now - the Gilded Age of the 1880s. Secondly, because it dawned upon me that Darren the rapist was in my History class.