Saint Ambrose Academy: Unlikelies

1

A/N: while most characters point of views will come into play at some point in the story it largely starts with just two however other voices will be added in as I feel the story calls for it.
ENZO
The blaring sound of my alarm fills the room, dragging me out of my slumber at an ungodly hour. With a groan, I resist the urge to hurl the offending device against the wall. As a Junior in school and the newly appointed class president, I couldn't afford to skip classes, even though I had a photographic memory that made learning a breeze. Suppressing my annoyance, I shut the hellish box of waking off and trudged towards the bathroom for a shower.

As the warm water cascaded over me, my thoughts drifted to the existential questions that plagued my mind. Why bother? What was the point of it all? Despite the temptation to lash out at myself, I found myself resting my head against the cool marble tiles, lost in contemplation.

After getting ready, I made my way to the main campus where high school students congregated. Saint Ambrose Academy is grades K-12, but campuses are separated for high school/ junior high/ and elementary. They're all connected but gated off by age group. The junior high and high school students are the only ones who live on campus during the school year, though some still live at home if they're local. Located in Italy, this school is not lacking in rich architecture and history, it is where the wealthy and well-known of society send their kids to obtain the finest opportunities and education. This is the school for becoming someone in society, but none of it matters to me like it should, it all feels empty, plastic, simulated at times.

As I mentally prepared to meet the other class presidents from different grades, I observed the hierarchy of popularity that dictated their roles. I knew my place and I held good standings in this hierarchy, and while I excelled academically, and was well-liked by my peers; the facade of perfection weighed heavily on me. School has always been easy, but people have always been easier. I am exactly who they want me to be, and because of that, my reputation earned me popularity that even outranks the senior presidents.

I know this should mean I feel good, but I don't, I take little joy in this information, in being so well-liked and "perfect", for all the good in my life, I don't feel alive.

The pressure of being the most popular guy in school felt suffocating, and the illusion of it all left me feeling hollow.

On my way to the meeting, a girl collided with me and hurried away before I could even register her appearance. Perplexed by her abrupt departure, I continued towards the meetup location, where the anticipation and dread gnawed at me. As I arrived, I observed the other class presidents, most of whom were chosen based on popularity. The Senior President is my best friend Angelo's older brother, popular in his own right, my self being the junior president, some newcomer freshman who's too eager if you ask me.

"So it's our responsibility to plan the welcome back event, and all the student activities, as well as manage the others in our grade?", the freshman asks. He's so excited as he says this as if he doesn't realize the amount of responsibility he's taken on. The final class president stands up from the spot against the fountain they'd occupied when they realize everyone has arrived.

All appear to be appointed to the position based on popularity. All except for one - the sophomore class president and the enigmatic ice princess, Nova Vidal. Despite her stunning appearance, there was an undeniable air of aloofness that set her apart. She possessed an effortless beauty, with a petite frame, naturally sun-kissed skin, cascading dark curls, beguiling large brown eyes, and luscious full lips. In defiance of her alluring appearance, her demeanor exuded coldness, mirroring her infamous reputation that earned her the nickname Ice Princess. I recognize her attire as the girl who had crashed into me without so much as a second glance on the way here, and it is laughable in my mind because I should have known better than to think she would lower herself to speak an apology to me, I watch her and have to admit that physically she could captivate anyone, her personality could use work though. While I wore a mask to conform to expectations, Nova emanated a disdainful aura that clashed with the social dynamics of the school.

Caught staring at her, Nova's expression soured, and I quickly averted my gaze. As the responsibilities of planning school events and managing peers loomed ahead, I couldn't shake the nagging question of how Nova, the ice princess, had landed herself this position.

This will be hell.

Looking back over to Nova, she's not paying any attention, instead, inspecting her manicure. I roll my eyes away from her and start to get things in order since it is evident that she's going to be useless. I'm left with a few thoughts:

Who the hell gave the ice princess this position, no one even likes her, it's likely her family donated some obscene amount of money for their darling daughter; as she comes from one of the one of the most wealthy families on campus. Her parents are like international royalty or something; which normally would make her gain instant popularity but again there is just something very off about her, it's evident she thinks us beneath her.

NOVA

The piercing ache in my body greeted me as I woke up, a reminder of the late night spent in the dance studio. Dancing was my sanctuary, the one place where stress melted away, and I felt truly alive. With a sigh, I gathered myself and prepared for the day ahead. I already know the backlash I am going to get for having been given this position, and more than anything I wish anyone else could take this job. Regardless of the apprehension that came with being thrust into the role, I focused on my aspirations of excelling in academics to graduate earlier than scheduled, securing a scholarship to Juilliard or another performing arts school, and pursuing my passion for dance by joining a dance company. When I was offered the position, I could not turn it down, it would look too good on college applications, even if I knew that this may very well just be a prank.

As I readied myself for the day, bracing for the inevitable scrutiny that came with my newfound position, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Navigating through the hostile glances and subtle attempts to unsettle or harm me, I stood my ground, determined to fulfill my responsibilities. I try to offer a small smile to the freshman who is already here, but I don't think it registered on my face, so he just ignores me. I wish I could shrink into myself; I avoid eye contact with the group and see the last pair of shoes join the group and listen quietly as they go over introductions. Amidst the intimidating presence of the senior president Matteo Salvatore and the dismissive demeanor of the junior class president, Enzo De La Rosa, I couldn't bring myself to look up but I couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized either.

Taking a chance, I raised my eyes and stole glances at my peers. Confusion clouded my thoughts as Enzo's piercing gaze bore into me, his disdain palpable. Despite my efforts to appear composed, I couldn't escape the feeling of being out of place and the harsh way Enzo stared into me. Even more so in my casual attire my white sweater and jeans feeling too casual, too fitted, and too exposed. As I fidgeted with my nails and the hem of my sweater, a nervous habit I had developed, I couldn't help but wonder what had sparked such animosity from the school's golden boy. I could feel his eyes were back on me, but I didn't dare to look up this time.

What was his issue with me? I may not be popular, but the intensity of his glare made me feel like an outcast in my own skin, like I'd grown a second head or something.