Trophy Daughter

Chapter 1- Another Brick in the Wall

Bombing tests was always the easiest part. The thing about active failure, was that it was a gradual fall. You don't go straight into a test and answer every question wrong- no. You give hints in class rooms, let everyone see you not studying, slowly answer a few questions wrong in pop quizzes or tests. 

Until, eventually, you're bombing every fucking test that is placed in front of you. It was an art form really- one that disappointed and angered my parents to no end. Fuck'em. 

"Another F Circe, didn't you just get a new tutor?" Mrs Dylan scolded, slapping my test paper on my desk. I shrugged and put one of my earphones in, screwing the paper up and shoving it in my bag. No one else in my class was surprised- it was annoying that Mrs Dylan constantly was. 

The newest tutor was some fugly math nerd from one of those private pish-posh schools that always had one teacher getting sued for sexual assault. Daddy dearest must have been desperate. The pish-posh mommy kink wanker had tried his very best to teach me the 'beauty' of maths and how fun it was. 

Maths isn't fun. 

Maths is pure truth- no wishy washy shit, just pure truth that happens to be in a very complicated form. Too bad the boy wasn't anywhere near my level. 

"Slobbin on too many knobs to study again aye C?" 

This bitch. I turned to the whore in question, flicking my gaze over her too big eyes and too-small tits. "At least I can slob on somebody else's dick and not my own, young man" 

A chorus of muffled giggles erupted- addressing the elephant (or ant) in the room- Nicola's non existent chesticles. It was amazing really, someone reaching the ripe age of 18 and still only fitting into an A cup. Ya girl just got into the D's this year- and not the dick kind. 

The bra kind. 

Nicola's hand flew up to her mouth, as if I had called her a KKK member setting a baby on fire. It was completely theatrical and attracted the teacher's attention in no time. Mrs Dylan set her beady eyes on me and frowned, immediately jumping to the conclusion that I had caused trouble. 

"Detention, Miss Lux. And an apology to Miss Jones" 

What kind of teacher didn't even let a student defend herself? One who was new and didn't understand how much dollars my parents had. I shrugged and turned to the titless girl, giving her an extremely sad frown. 

"I'm sorry your chest looks like my back" 

"ANOTHER DETENTION MISS LUX" 

Shit bruh. Someone needs to chill. 

____

Detention was never boring-simply because I never went. My parents had enough dosh rolled into the joint of school, that my teachers never actually enforced my detention time. Wealthy parents always had perks- but their prick personalities didn't. 

I walked out of the building, looking to my left and seeing the usual. Cheerleaders practicing some overhyped routine, stoners gathering in their henge, Barnabas Dumas picking up another chick who fell for his 'charms.' 

School was never different. But my afternoons usually were. I quickly jumped in my black Mercedes Benz- affectionately named Frederick- and sped off to McLoughlin College Campus, already grinning at the thought of solving some lengthy equation. 

I pulled up to the maths department, threw my hood up and entered, speed walking down the modern halls to my favourite secluded classroom. It was dusty and reminiscent of the 1900's style classroom, but was the place where I had first discovered the universe that was maths.