Three

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"Hey, are you okay?" Steph asked when we were back in our room.

The rooms here were clean-cut and modern, with efficient tables made of black wood with the newest laptops on them. Everything was made in a way that allowed the most space to each person. The beds were comfy and wide enough, which was something I was grateful for. There were two small bathrooms, which was pretty convenient.

Other than that, the room allowed enough space for us to decorate any way we pleased. So, Steph and I rearranged everything every now and then. Now, our colour was all shades of green, because we didn't want our winters to be depressing. Steph bought new green sheets and a fluffy carpet. Books were scattered all around, as well as pens and highlighters.

"What do you mean?" I threw myself on my bed and enjoyed the piece of my room.

"Well, with Chiara returning." Steph sighed.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" I pushed.

"Well, you never told me what happened."

"Nothing." I shook my head. "Literally, nothing. It was just my dumb imagination."

"Don't fly too close to the sun, Jackie." Steph warned.

"I'm more worried about Josh." I admitted. "I've done everything right, you know? I studied like a maniac all my life, I missed out on parties, I missed out on experience. And it brought me nothing."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Steph mumbled. "You're basically a valedictorian. There's nothing for you to worry about, play or no play."

"It's not about that." I sighed. "I deserved to direct the play. I spent hours with Mrs Felicia, talking about books and movies and brain storming ideas. I actually tried really hard through the years. And it's always some richer-than-God douche that steals my spot. I'm just tired."

"Well, have you ever thought of taking the easy route?" She asked. "I mean, you've surrounded yourself with rich people since you were a kid. And you want to go to a college full of kids like that. There's equally great schools out there that don't come with an angry mob of immature millionaires."

"My parents have worked hard all their lives to provide the best possible education for me." I countered. "And I don't take that sacrifice lightly. So, I vowed to be the best. If me fighting and studying and working hard is going to take the burden off their chest, I'll do it."

"I'm just saying, stress is gonna kill you." Steph murmured.

"Yeah, well, I don't have a trust fund to break my fall." I felt the anger burning in my throat again. "I have to fight with the arsenal I have. And it comes with stress included."

"I'm sorry about the play." Steph gave up, she wasn't a fan of confrontation. "Josh is going to screw it up and Mrs Felicia will realise what a mistake she made."

"Yeah, well," I got up, deciding I needed some distraction, "she'll make the same mistake next year. As long as someone offers money."

My pent up frustration usually led me to the library, where I could get lost in fantasizing a better, fairer life. This time was no different.

My mind was set on Yale, they had some pretty awesome fine arts courses and I wanted in. Of course, that in itself carried a lot of pressure. There were nights when I literally wasn't sleeping, I lived on coffee and frozen pizza while I crammed for the final exams. The most vivid memory I had in this school was me, bent over a table, not in a way I might want to be.

I barely had time for Bryan and Steph, let alone something so time-consuming like a revenge plan against a hateful millionaire I wanted to punch in the face. I sighed as I entered the library. The library was the most beautiful part of the entire school. There, I could really imagine I was living in a different, Victorian time, without being interrupted by phones buzzing. There was a separate wing with laptops, but the sound of them didn't disturb the piece of books.

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