Belvedere Academy

LEGACY

The legacy system was made by the school's first headmistress, Roselyn Belvedere. But it wasn't really implemented until the 1950's as the school's reputation begun to skyrocket and more and more influential people begun to spring up. To maintain order and the status quo, the children who were sent here were split according to their generation within their respective family. The older the money, the more privileges you get.

The first generations are equivalent to lowly commoners. They're the ones people look down on and treat like shit because apparently rich people can't live without bringing other people down. Second and third generations are the middle class commoners. Practically commoners with a bit more class and respect. They still have it rough, but not as much as the first generation. The fourth, fifth and sixth generation are the low ranking nobles. They're basically like background characters, no one really gives a shit about them despite the fact that they make up at least fifty percent of the student body.

The ones with the real power are the seventh generations going upward. Though they rarely go as far as tenth generation and they only make up ten percent of the student body. They are the high ranking nobles and close to royalty. They get all the perks and have rights to push everyone else around.

Technically, I'm a ninth generation Carmichael which makes me qualify for all the perks but thanks to my father's scandal, I'm basically treated like a third generation. Alec is a thirteenth generation Blackwood and descends from a long and branched line of royalty. So he's practically at the top of the food chain. And having him as a fake boyfriend is like one of those super rare power-ups that gets you past five levels of the game in mere seconds.

Right after the party, someone posted a picture of us kissing. It was all anyone could talk about. Alec just rolled with it, he didn't comment on the issue but made a point to hold my hand in public, sit next to me during meals, and walk me to my room or to class every single day. He even gave me flowers every Friday. By the end of the month, everyone knew we were an item. He posted an official statement in response to the rumors and persistent questions, telling everyone he liked me and intended to win me over. And the fact that it really pissed Meghan off was an added cherry on top. Though all the sudden attention made me nervous. Who knew maintaining a fake relationship could be so draining that I completely forgot about my dance exam coming up in three days.

Another great thing about this place is that your family occupation dictates what classes you take. The Carmichaels were practically Wall Street royalty. We had our hands in multiple pots all over the world. And by pots, I mean all the major businesses you could think of. So all my classes focused on business, economics, mathematics, accounts, commerce and foreign relations. Plus one compulsory extracurricular activity of my choosing and I chose dance class.

Molly was a dancer and an extremely gifted one at that. She could learn any form of dance within a week or less. She loved dancing and it was the only thing that she loved that her parents actually supported. She won a number of dance competitions over the years and the prize money would always go to a charity that focused on protecting marine life and cleaning up pollution in coastal areas. By tenth grade she was practically famous.

I was a painter, and according to Molly I could rival Leonardo Da Vinci himself. But I never showcased any of my work. I kept my paintings hidden in a spare room at home. Molly was the only one who saw them, it was like a private art gallery just for her. When she left, I locked the room and tossed the key.

I make my way to the dance studio for a practice session. It's 7pm and the place is empty. Turns out dating a prince makes teachers want to get on my good side. Our dance instructor, Mrs. Burch, was more than happy to lend me the keys to the studio when I asked her. I set my bag on a bench and started doing some stretches. After ten minutes or so I pull out my speaker and my phone from my bag and scroll through my playlist looking for a song. I stop at Slower by Tate McRae, one of Molly's favorites.