Contemporary Milan, Italy.
In the dazzling world of Vincitore Academy, Margherita, a half-Korean firebrand from humble beginnings, ignites a clash of wills with the P2, the city's elite quartet of dazzling and infuriatingly entitled boys.
Yet, privi...
Prof. Cerimele asked, "I saw the videos on Insta about the gala throwdown. How are you fairing?"
Margherita shrugged. "It's not like I was popular before."
The teacher smiled. "You only need to be popular with a couple people, and you definitely have at least a fan." Mauro was sunning himself on the bench, golden hair glinting in the sun. "But you seem down today. Heart problems?" Margherita's upper lip trembled enough to warrant an assumption. "My most intense love story started in high school, and the heartache that followed was brutal. Yet, part of growing up is getting used to pain and disappointment."
Margherita tucked her hair behind her ear. "It doesn't sound appealing."
Prof. Cerimele smiled. "It's not, but love makes it worth it. I regret nothing. If you fall in love, go all out. If it doesn't work, at least you'll have no regrets."
Margherita took her advice under consideration. "So you have no regrets?"
Prof. Cerimele shook her head, but her longing gaze told a different story.
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After classes, Margherita and Mauro hid in the library to eat their home-packed lunches away from judging glares—no one else brought food from home, but the prices at the cafeteria were outrageous.
The library was one enormous room, two glass walls faced the garden and were lined with couches and tables. The rest was slightly cavernous and crowded with endless bookshelves that stretched to the tall ceilings. Old ladders slid along the floor to gain access to the uppermost volumes. In truth, nobody used books anymore; the internet had most of the information students needed (or thought they needed).
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After lunch, Mauro helped Margherita with math. When he left, she crossed the semi-deserted courtyard toward the pool.
Re watched her, curious, from the P2-lounge window. Three fifth-years smoked under the shade of a tree. The tallest one exhaled smoke, then hollered, "Hey, Laundry Angel! I heard you can blow."
Margherita didn't turn; she simply flipped him off. Luca smiled, until the guy ditched his cigarette and went after her.
Luca hurried out the lounge and downstairs into the courtyard. The three guys were pushing Margherita around. She had a (lousy) boxing stance on but didn't move, studying her opponents. Her gumption kind of turned him on...until one of the boys tripped her, and she fell backward on her ass.
