The Benefits of Being Evelin

Out of the Box

Dear Diary,

There are a lot of benefits to being Evelin Rose.

First, my dad is Slovenia's police attache, which means I get to travel pretty much everywhere.

Second, since he has diplomatic immunity, so do I. And I get to go to school for, well, let's call us 'privileged' kids.

Third, I get to meet many interesting people.

My life sounds pretty amazing, doesn't it? Well, my life may be amazing, but I'm definitely not. I was not build for this sort of life. I feel like a lamb in the midst of hungry wolves.

Life at Wayward Academy is anything but easy. It's not us who are special, it's our parents. Sadly most of the students 'being rich' understands as a birthright, not as a privilege. And thus, the 'class games'.

At the top we have the super rich who get their weekly allowance in the form of thousands of euros and a new rolex watch. In the middle class are students who get those kind of allowances only on holidays and at the end of the year. And lastly, the lower class, in which I fit in - the lucky ones. Our parents are not rich. Most of students from this class are here on academic scholarship, or are like me - our parents have important jobs, but they are not particularly well paid. But hey, at least I'm not a peasant - that's what the kids call everyone else from outside the school.

But not all of them are so bad.

I looked at Latiffa across the room. She looked so elegant sipping her rooibos tea. The light from the window crashed against her mocha skin in all the right places. She pressed her lips at the floral cup so carefully, as if the porcelain might break.

"What?" Latiffa said without averting her gaze toward me.

"Hm?" I mumbled back.

"You're staring," she placed the cup down on the table. "New passion?" Latiffa commented on pen and paper in my hands.

"Oh," I looked at the pink diary in my hands. "I guess."

"Quitting singing?" said a voice from the other corner of a giant bedroom with a chandelier hanging from a very high ceiling. Lina was painting her toenails with light blue. It did fit her hipster-hippie style.

I quickly shook my head. "No, no, it's just that -"

"Latiffa!" I was suddenly interrupted by a brown-haired boy crashing into our bedroom. "Volleyball practice at five."

"Geez Oliver, you know they've invented like a thousand things - like phones and computer, for easier, faster and non-loud sharing of information?" Latiffa snapped at him.

"I thought I might cheer you girls up with my presence," Oliver smiled with his pearly-whites.

I've had a crush on him for so long, I can't even remember when it started. Oliver was incredibly outgoing and fun and interesting...all the things that I'm not. His five-o'clock shadow only emphasized the strong features of his jawline. He always wore black or white shirts with black jeans.

"Evelin, are you going to be a writer?" his green eyes suddenly winked at me.

"I, um, it's -," I couldn't pronounce a single word. It's not that I'm shy. I'm just scared. When I was a child I had a stutter. Apparently I healed it over time with singing, but I still hold on to that agonizing fear of that stutter coming back. That's why I don't talk much. At least not when I'm nervous.

"Okay then," he said and the blood rushed to my cheeks.

Musician, I want to be a musician! That's what I wanted to yell at that delicious boy.