The Materialists | Book 1 + 2 ✔

02 | Gucci is Slutty

At 7:15, I grabbed my protein shake and nature valley bar and hurried to my car. Which my driver had to drive until I turned 17, according to the London laws.

My driver was also new, a 60-year-old man with graying hair and a crooked thin smile whenever he greeted me.

Today he was waiting out front next to the passenger seat. When spotting me leaving the lobby, he tipped his head in greeting and pulled open the backdoor to the full black range rover with overly tinted windows.

"Good morning, Ms. Laura," he said, shutting the door behind me as I climbed in.

I gave him a closed mouth smile as he turned on the car and began to drive to the school. The drive was silent, but it gave me time to mentally prepare for everything.

The school was like an old castle. It honestly looked like a smaller version of Hogwarts. With tall towers, vine-covered windows and stone brick walls. There was a group of flagpoles up near the front with America, the UK, and France's flag. There was one other with the school's logo on it. The large parking lot was filled to the brim of luxury cars and not a single bus in sight.

My driver pulled up to the front where he slowed to a full stop. Getting out of the car, he went around to my side and opened the door. I climbed out, brushing off nonexistent dust from my shoulder. I smoothed my skirt and turned to thank him.

Eyes. I immediately attracted everyone's eyes. It was unusual though. Everyone who attended had been going here since freshman year. So who the hell was this girl, attending Junior year and dressed like a wannabe rich bitch? I wanted to feel powerful with the new attention, but all I felt was self-conscious. I almost forgot how schools like this work.

Confidence = power. Tilting my head up, I adjusted my tote bag and headed towards the entrance of the school. My heels sounded too loud against the concrete, and my hand and felt like it was slipping out of place. My skirt felt too short, and the socks that I noticed more than half of the girls' population weren't even wearing, felt weird.

The heads that turned my way turned around quickly. Not in a weary way, but in an "Oh she's irrelevant until drama involving her happens" way.

I had already gotten a majority of the papers signed and filled when I came last week, along with a map of the school on my phone along with my schedule. My first class was Calculus. Also my worst subject. Suffering silently, I made my way to class. I wanted so very much to go anywhere else, but class had technically already started and if I didn't want to be late, I'd have to get there in around 1 minute. Which didn't help since it was halfway across the school and on the 4th floor.

Who the hell even has the 4th floor? Isn't 3 enough?

And of course, I had to pick 2-inch heels today, what a wonderful choice compared to the endless amount of 1-inch heels sitting in my closet. When I got to the class, the second bell had already rung. Being late on the first day of school. Wonderful. I pushed on the big wooden door that creaked loudly when opened. The professor turned her head towards me, scowling in my direction. But the expression dropped when she saw my face.

"You new?" She asked me, an obviously Southern American accent seeping through.

That's certainly one thing I didn't expect to hear in the depths of London.

"Yes ma'am, I'm Laura," She kindly pointed a crooked finger in the direction of an open seat. The only open one in the class. Besides the empty one in the far corner, which seemed like a wonderful place to sit at the moment.

"You can take a seat there. Since we just began you didn't miss much," I smiled at her and rolled my eyes when my back was turned. Moving to the seat, I internally gagged when I saw just who I was sitting next to.