Irrational

Chapter Two

"Kaya, honey, wake up. We're there." 
The cabin temperature had dropped and it was freezing. On the positive side, we had landed in Mary's Inn, the town where Dome High was situated. Mary's Inn had a rather rich history. In 'A Brief History of Elite Schools', they state that Dome Academy had existed for two hundred years at a different site by a different name. It was Mr. Albert Dome who actually turned it into a world class academy with state of the art faculty. Spanning over a magnificent campus, only the affluent families could get a ticket for their children to come here, only tomorrow's leaders and prosperous businessmen were here. Such places always had some peculiarity that made them stand out. I had a fair idea that I was going to be the 'black sheep' there. When you go somewhere, the feeling of having butterflies in your stomach becomes extremely palpable. This feeling had made me nauseous; and the prospect of me reaching the hotel without vomiting on some heiress's extravagant dress were seemingly low. I should not have eaten that sandwich at that shady outlet. Comedic situations like this were not unknown to me, but I had hoped to have a decent life at Mary's Inn.
"Are you well? May I ask the attendant to bring some pills?" Mom further questioned
"No I am fin---" I was saying this and I felt everything starting to rise up. My mom knew how to cover up such a situation, but I was rushing towards the attendant to grab a pill. 

The moment before I threw  up, Claire's words were buzzing in my head. Whichever way I looked at it they were traumatising. The next thing I remembered was a girl, of my age, but really pretty, on whom I had thrown up. For a moment I saw pity in her eyes, but it turned to rage, which turned to hate. Her hair was strawberry blonde and tied perfectly in a high-ponytail. Her dress (now soiled by my vomit) was lime green, her necklace and rings suiting her wealthy appearance. I quickly noticed she had to make a visit to a really important place, for no one, not even the most elite, would dress so extravagantly. 
"Miss, sorry. We will pay for the dress! Just pardon my daughter." My mother understood the gravity of the situation. 
"Don't. Just leave me alone."
"Please, let us." My mom spoke insistently. What I did not notice while this was going on was the reactions of our fellow passengers. They looked at me with a look of disgust. Of course, the blonde girl was the victim, and she was much more prettier. Also, she appeared to be travelling alone. 
"SHUT UP. Filthy middle class people. Can't you keep your stinky breaths in your cheap settlements? I ** told Dad to lend me his jet. I need change of clothes asap Amanda."  A short lady who appeared to be really frail appeared from behind. She was in her mid-thirties, and unlike the extravagant clothing of the blonde girl, she was in business clothes. She shot me an even worse look than the girl had, maybe because I had substantially increased her work. She took tissues and started wiping the exotic dress. The initially pale skin of the girl had turned red. 
"Dad. Some girl puked on me. I am feeling filthy. Cancel the meeting, I am going back home by road." Her powerful voice sounded even more threatening. An air hostess came and started providing me tissues. I was feeling dizzy, while mom wiped off the vomit off the floor. I felt humiliated, and though I was both physically and mentally drained, I gave a dirty look to the girl  on whom I had puked, which she purposely ignored. 
"Daddie am I important, or that damn Aiden?" The entire cabin was eerily silent. I heard the person called Daddie saying 'business deal'. She cut the phone as her father said it. 

Even her stance was lavish. She walked towards me with a livid expression. I was lying down on the rock hard floor. 
"Do you have any idea how much this dress costs?" She said with her eyes expressing pure hatred. I choose to maintain silence.
"More than anything you own." she hissed. Her (probably) assistant lugged behind her as she paced down the aisle. 
"Ma'am, do you still want sparkling water, or--" 
"I am going to tell my dad to fire the entire staff on this flight." She rushed towards a door towards the first class seats. The hostess was begging, but the girl's determination was insurmountable for the hostess to win over. I passed out. 
**
My head was hurting and a nasty taste was lingering in my mouth. I spotted Mom first, she was in her beige sundress that clung to her perfect figure perfectly. She was an immigrant but the way she was accustomed to this country was so admirable. She was a bold women; her large brown eyes made her espresso skin look even prettier. Next I saw dad, walking anxiously, on a call. He took a transfer just so that I could attend Dome High, and mere words could not be enough to show how grateful I was. 

Dome Academy was a school of the rich- run by the rich and attended by the rich. I never was interested in attending an over-the-top school, though I yearned opportunities for developing myself. Mid-term last year, I came across a site stating that Dome Academy was accepting transfers. I dived deep into it and was even more surprised to find that this was the first year they were accepting transfers with almost complete scholarship. There had to be some catch. 
My old school had turned me into an outcaste, the only ones hanging out were Claire and Mariah. Mariah was the prettiest girl in the grade, oh her long list of admirers! ( The plane girl was prettier). It seemed unfair that Mariah had to attend to me, and she became the benevolent queen. Claire was simpler, she never was friends with me for reasons that were impossible to conceal- she simply liked me. She was unique and brilliant, though bad at academics. Everything changed when she got into the fabulous soccer team. She became the benevolent queen #2 . And each day, I felt like I was at the mercy of my childhood friends. 

"They let us off the hook. Mr. Beischel is generous." Dad said with a bleak expression. Generosity was a virtue that was worth looking at in a person during times of scarcity, when one can barely fulfil their needs. Not during abundance, like this Mr. Beishel who's daughter's 3000 pound dress I had soiled.