High Life | ✔️

5

I ARRIVED HERE on a Friday, for better or for worse.

I came to Richmond Park Academy with naught but Grandmother's clothes and a bunch of stationeries. My parents had entrusted into my own hands the purchase of my uniform, along with textbooks according to curricular requirements.

By the time I woke up, it was 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning. The room smelled faintly of vanilla even though the scented candles had long since burnt out. I had stayed up to read about 'methodological and philosophical naturalism' - hopefully this would place me one rung higher on the nerd hierarchy, if there ever was such a thing.

There wasn't much beyond the four walls of Richmond Park Academy. My window overlooked a lush, green forest of pine trees. I slid the glass pane open, and I revelled for several seconds in the taste of cold air against my tongue. Against the backdrop of chirping birds, I dragged myself to the sink so I could wash and banish the remnants of sleep from my system.

This morning was cold for late September. It probably had to do with my lack of clothes. I slept best nude, and best believe being away from home wasn't going to change a thing. My inclination had caused some... difficulties in the past when platonic male friends slept over. But ultimately, there was no joy quite like feeling smooth sheets against your bare skin.

As I dragged a brush through my mouse-brown hair, I couldn't help but note the circles beneath my eyes. I wish Grandmother allowed me to bring foundation. Alas, quote unquote, "Cosmetics are the work of satan".

The prospect of collecting my uniform was an exciting one. It meant that I didn't always have to wear Grandmother's extreme clothes that left EVERYTHING to the imagination (if you know what I mean).

Richmond Park Academy was a Victorian era building that had been touched with enough modernization that rendered the act of climbing down 8 flights of stairs unnecessary. As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I soaked in the interior of the hallway.

I'd see the occasional human rush past, but no one ever says hi in this place. Everyone's a trajectory of their own, purposeful strides and downcast gazes - perhaps this was the recipe to success, since Richmond Park was known for it's notable alumni.

I allowed my eyes to roam the inanimate aspects of this lonely place.

It was an airy hallway, with timber doors adorning the walls on both sides. There was a total of ten rooms on this floor, some catering for two inmates, most catering for one. The top floor rooms, as clarified by my mother, were the most expensive in the block. I resented how my father threw his money around. Albeit, it gave me bragging rights, but it always drew unnecessary attention.

The bad kind. You'll come to understand.

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"You must be Miss Andrea Schaeffler!"

"Yes," I said very warily.

The woman was middle aged, and in a rush to secure her measuring tape. In no time, she was by my side.

"Over here, we custom make the uniforms for our students - don't worry, it's all paid for in your fees. I'm just going to take your measurements. Your uniform should be ready by tomorrow."

I said nothing as she took my measurements, lifted my hands and stood with legs apart when I needed to. I was currently dressed in a long sleeved shirt and sweat pants. If possible, I didn't want to run into a single person (that I knew) today.