They don't play to win. They play to hurt.
Sterling Academy's irresistible reputation all came crashing down last year when a list of the 'top thirty girls too...' had been anonymously published.
Now recovering from the pits of hell the media dragge...
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"THEY NEVER STOP arguing," Constance breathes out, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to keep herself awake.
I sigh, unsure of what to say. Her parents have always argued, but they've never been this bad. "You've really got to get some sleep though, Con. Even if they argue, you aren't their mediator."
She nods, and I know I haven't helped her at all but she accepts my words anyway. When she slips into the seats we claimed in biology on the first day of school I follow, sitting right next to her.
"Mom thinks he's cheating again, Dad says she's one to talk," at that Con self-consciously reaches to her scalp where her natural red roots haven't grown back. Her hair's still pitch black, just as it has been since she first started getting it dyed in middle school.
It's no secret the Leighton siblings all have differing features, some more jarring than the others. The most notable however are their hair colours — only two out of five siblings share the same one.
"That's awful," I say, quieting down the second I see Mr. Locke enter the classroom. Everyone begins to grow silent as well, not wanting to get on the notoriously merciless teacher's bad side.
Beside me, Constance shrugs lips downturned. "There's nothing I can do about it, I wish they'd just split up already or something. I know that's selfish. Ugh, look at me complaining about not wanting to have my parents when you only have one. How selfish of me, I'm so sorry Nads. "
"Oh, no it's so okay." I smile shyly, feeling as my ears begin to burn. It's not that I'm upset, It's just that Dad's death isn't something that I like talking about. He passed away when I was seven, so I've lived more of my life without him than I have with him. It's just my normal now.
"I—" Con goes to apologise again but Mr Locke has already started to talk about what we'll be studying, he mentions something about 'DNA manipulation,' and I open up my notebook as Constance reaches for her laptop.
Biology is one of my favourite subjects, of course, second to textiles but it's still in my top three. Constance and I take the more science—based subjects in the group whilst Valé and Bailey take English—influenced ones. Aristotle is a mix, but her core ones centre around history.
"Everyone knows what DNA is right?" Mr Locke's gruff voice asks. Everyone in the class nods their head, "We amplify identical DNA through the use of a PCR. A PCR is a polymerase chain reaction..."
Beside me, I hear Con's fingernails type against her irritably loud keyboard. I look over to scold her for not being able to slide her fingers across instead of individually puncturing the letters but halt when I catch the dejected look on her face.
I go to open my mouth and hopefully say something that'll make her feel better but then the classroom doors open up. Instead of someone leaving for the bathroom, it's someone entering. I hear the light giggles of excitement from the neighbouring tables.
