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Thinking can be very tiring, and I tend to overthink things.
Kensington Independent College is not your typical British sixth form college (a sixth form college is a school consists of only high school junior and senior years, which are year 12 and 13 here in Britain). Well, it feels like one because it includes those groups of mean girls and some gorgeous boys that look like Greek gods. Nevertheless, it is a school for those of special and rich backgrounds, including sons and daughters of CEOs, politicians, or even celebrities from all over Europe.
And me?
I have no idea why I am accepted here.
I'm not the daughter of CEOs, politicians, or celebrities. I'm far from that.
Turns out, when the school says they accept students of special backgrounds, it includes a remarkably small portion of the student body that are making a living solely by themselves. In this case, me.
I am just about to go to year 12, and this seems to be a good idea to go to a school with the best resources and teachers if I want to get into a prominent university. I had to work for my tiny flat, school fees, food costs, and the things I want, but now this school offers me scholarships for my "exceptional performance at my previous school." And of course, I accepted the offer.
Now I'm standing right in front of the administration office, waiting for my interview.
"Allie Forte?" A professional-looking lady with a high bun pulls the door open and calls, "please come in."
Tugging my wavy brown hair behind my ear, I enter the office. The principal was there, talking impatiently with a boy who looks very annoyed by the situation. I am quite sure that I'm interrupting some business over here.
The assistant seems to notice it at the same time as me, but before she can do anything, they see us.
"Sorry about this, Principal Cadwell, Mr Cadwell."
She refers both men as "Cadwell," so they must be father and son or somehow related?
My heart almost stops when I see the Cadwell boy properly. He has hazel eyes and dark brown hair that is slicked back but a little messy at the same time. His grey shirt was tugged into his black dress pants lazily. To top it all off, I can tell that he's athletic and tall. God, he looks like a Calvin Klein model.
But no, I'm certainly not attracted to him. He looks just like another player, and the last thing I need is to get my heart torn apart again.
"Pardon us, you must be Ms Forte?" The principal says. He has slightly grey and neatly styled hair and is wearing a navy suit. The Cadwell boy resembles his father's features.
"Yes, sir," I respond weakly.
He motions me to sit down in front of his desk, close to where the boy is standing. I sit down hesitantly.
"I'm Principal Cadwell. So, I've read your file personally," he speaks. Oh no, I hope he doesn't start taking about my financial problems in front of the boy.
He continues, "And I think you are absolutely eligible for KIC. I'm glad to inform you that you are accepted. Next week will be the start of the term, and I believe it's a good timing for you. So you can move into our accommodation like other students tomorrow. Is that okay?"
"Of course, thank you, Principal Cadwell," I grin.
"I will have my assistant send you the scholarship and the rest of the notices. You may leave now."
YOU ARE READING
The Principal's Son
Teen Fiction"That would lose the fun, wouldn't it?" He teases, a trace of smirk resting on his perfect face. Can he not? "Enjoy the fun yourself then, I have something more important to do than this." Which is getting something to eat. I reply with slight irrit...