The Girl With The Iron Will

Senior Year

"Every single day is a repetition of ctrl+c, ctrl+v."

BTS, Tomorrow

***

It was only when I reached the hallways that I realized how empty the school was compared to the entrance. My phone buzzed, and I took it out from my pocket. On the screen showed an unread message from Hyeri. I opened it up.

Principal's appeared out here, maybe to greet them? Where did you go?

On top of being the school paper editor, she was also president of the school's journalism club, and most of the time it was her who sniffed out material for the school magazine. Unfortunately, we all knew that the students would rather swipe their screens and search for celebrity gossip than read which teacher won Best Mentor Award last year, so I could see why she was willing to push and shove to get a glimpse of EXO-M as soon as they reached the school. Maybe even try to get to them and ask for an interview first thing in the morning. Now that would bring up readership ratings.

I couldn't care less.

Going to psych office, I messaged. Not worth it getting sweaty in the morning.

My phone buzzed again.

I bet you'd ignore EXO even if they sat next to you in class.

I grinned. Can't let people think they're so special of my attention, can I?

Her next message was a shocked emoticon. I grinned, pocketing my phone as I looked up, walking down the hallway at a leisurely pace. There were banners welcoming students back to Gang-do, and it was only then that I realized that this was the hallway where I had seen the dream guy.

I couldn't help frowning as the fragments of the dream came back to me, and I looked around at the students in the hallway. They were mostly boys – since most of EXO's fans were girls who were waiting at the foyer – and they hung around in their groups, speaking excitedly to their friends. I searched for any tall blond guys who might be wearing sling bags, darting glances here and there but finding no one familiar.

At Gang-do, there was only one rule regarding appearance. As long as the student was wearing ironed unform – an indigo blazer, a white shirt and dark slacks or skirts – they were good to go.

That there was where the school code ended. Students could experiment with a myriad of different accessories, from bright or patterned socks to knee-high black boots, to tall snapbacks or rainbow-colored hair ribbons. When it came to hair, they were given free rein to do whatever they wished. Want a Mohawk? Tattooed scalps? Fiery orange tresses? Waist-length braids that could slap someone out cold?

Go ahead. What couldn't you get with money?

The students here were extremely lucky, and we could afford anything we wanted. The first two years, Gang-do students were exposed to the arts, preparing them for careers in the entertainment industry should they ever decide to join. Many trainees came here for idol training, sponsored by their respective entertainment agencies. Gang-do also had state-of-the-art studios for recording, news casting, and acting. The teachers were highly educated, and most of the times they seemed more like bendable friends than lecturers, save a few who won't tolerate the antics of us rich kids. But not all of us were troublemakers, of course.

I used to live with my grandmother when I was a small child, in the country. The kids hated me there; they said I had too much money to throw.

When I moved in with my parents in Seoul, after elementary school, I felt immediately at home in the rich neighborhood, where my every wish was granted. As soon as I graduated high school, I was accepted into Gang-do for further education, and here I was now, in senior year.