High Life | ✔️

10

WHEN HE SAID "wanna get out of here?" I was fully convinced we were going back to our dorms to sleep. Like every other student on campus who didn't get invited to whatever cult thing in the forest back there.

But no, Elias's friend whose name still eluded me went all, "are you from around here?"

"Me?" I asked dumbly. "No, I'm from like, across the country."

We advanced a few paces in silence, before the male spoke up. "New York? Florida? Pennsylvania?"

"The latter," I said.

His face lit up. "Cool! How was it like? Were you in like, a public school before this? How was it like?"

"Huh?" I went. "It's whatever."

But he was all wide eyed and nodding, as though egging me on. As though - impossibly - interested in knowing what a public school is like. I scrutinized the male before me. He had impossibly symmetrical features, wore a white polo, and paired his outfit with expensive loafers.

In other words this was a white capitalistic male who had never seen struggle outside the bourgeoisie class.

"Well..." I started. But I was cut off.

"Is bullying still a thing? Hey, did you get bullied? That'd be so cool," he gushed.

I raised an eyebrow. Images of Patrick wriggling against the pole began flashing in my mind's eye. "No, of course not. Bullying is only in movies," I said sarcastically.

But he went wide eyed and nodded quickly. We were approaching the courtyard of Richmond Park Academy now. But I was wide awake, and so was this guy. So he linked his arms through mine, in a move that indicated this guy was physically affectionate (even with strangers).

"You wanna get food?"

"Uh, sure."

"Outside campus, man," he tugged me towards the entrance. I reminded myself of my first day here, the equestrian riders, the amalgamation of bright colours this place had to offer.

Richmond Park Academy wasn't anywhere near the city. The nearest town was hundreds of miles away - it was what made this place what it was. Isolated, fresh aired and extremely conducive for studying.

When we approached the entrance, it prompted a figure's attention. I could see the security guard's features through the faint illumination of streetlights.

"Excuse me, you may not leave the school compound on weekdays - "

Elias's friend beside me, whose name still remained a mystery cut the guard off in one motion. He'd stuffed his hands into his pockets and retrieved several hundred dollar bills. I silently watched the notes rudely hauled in the guard's face, then watched the guard scrambling to catch the dollar bills and bending down to retrieve those that fell to the ground.

I tried to hide my surprise. Elias's friend, who had arms linked through mine, tugged to get my attention.

His eyes were hooded in what little illumination the scene had to offer.

"You coming?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

I didn't know what I was expecting beyond the gates, but I didn't expect a sleek looking fuck-knows-what-model waiting for us with running engine.