My Covert Bodyguard

01: Rich People Party

I sighed, looking around the room. The ballroom was beautiful, I had to admit. The walls were perfectly carved wood, with vintage-looking torches hanging giving it a Renaissance-like look. The floor was made of squeaky-clean marble, and tapestries hung from the walls with texts that said things like "for another great year in Lockwood Academy!" and "good luck seniors for your last year!" and other overly-excited comments. Students and parents caught up on each other's lives, and it was a perfect chance for everyone to show off new designer clothes and accessories.

I was bored already, and it wasn't even fifteen minutes into the party. I chugged down the remainder of my ginger ale and placed the glass on one of the tables. I was scanning the room for people walking around with food when I saw a group of girls walking towards me. I fought a groan and plastered on a fake smile I mastered over the years of smiling for the public.

"Oh my gosh Cass I haven't seen you in like two months!" A girl with perfect curls falling down her shoulders exclaimed, and I smiled and nodded.

"It's so good to see you guys," I said, even though internally I was racking my brain trying to remember the names of these girls. They were just another group of typical girls at my school that probably wouldn't talk to me unless it was for some kind of party like this. They had to look good in front of the cameras, the other families, and the teachers.

They were all so fake it disgusted me.

And the most terrible thing is that I was even more fake than they were.

"I hear there's going to be a new boy in our grade." One of the girls said (Stacy was her name I think) and I knew they were in full gossip mode.

"Yeah and apparently he's poor. He's getting a big scholarship or something." A girl said in a hushed whisper. She said the word poor as if it was something foreign and strange.

"He's not poor," another girl said, rolling her eyes, "just like, average."

They all nodded, even though probably to them poor and average didn't have a difference.

"Ooh! Is that the new design of Louis Vuitton?" The girl with beautiful curls said, pointing to Stacy's bag.

"Oh yeah isn't it absolutely perfect?"

At that moment I knew the conversation was over.

Even though their topic had moved on, my mind was still thinking of the new boy. Our school adored rich kids, and the richer you were the more respect you got. It was messed up, but that's how things were. People that couldn't afford to go to our school looked up to it like it was heaven on earth. So for someone who couldn't afford to go to this school, he must have been real darn smart to get in. And I wondered how he would be treated, because our school wasn't really used to having non-elite students. To put it plainly, the main purpose of our school was to educate future company owners to be able to live in the high society and be elegant and smart in whatever we rich kids were pursuing.

What would an average person who doesn't have the same life styles and family backgrounds as us get in that?

I frowned, lost in thought, when someone patted my shoulder. I whirled around, almost tripping over my feet, to see it was my mom.

"Oh, hi mom." I said.

She made a slightly annoyed, urgent look. "Cassandra, please go talk to your friends, you're looking like a misfit standing alone by yourself."

What friends? I was tempted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut.

Instead I said, "of course mom," and I walked into a crowd of girls in my grade, acting as if I was interested in whatever the heck they were talking about.