Agreements With Mr Rich Boy | ✓

8 | Arrivals

THE NEXT DAY, something very out of the ordinary happened. I didn't really know what was going on as I heard the beating sound of propellers above the school, and could see the bushes shake vigorously.

The object in the air cast its shadow across the fountain by the front door. It was this darkness that loomed over, that had both Miles and I looking to each other in confusion, pausing our chess game.

We'd come down to the room we'd met in, and had pulled the chairs a little closer to one another. The chess board and its pieces had already been set out, and so as a way to pass time, we'd begun to play. He was thrashing me, that much was clear, but I still clung to the little dignity I had left. Like I said, little. Very little. I was tempted to over turn the table just so he couldn't taunt me anymore, but the helicopter, now in sight, was as good of a distraction as any.

Everyone in the room crowded around us, us being right by the window. They crammed together, desperate to get a better look as the propellers of the matte black body slowed slightly as it lowered to the ground, but never stopped completely.

The door was opened.

Everyone craned their necks to get a better view.

Three figures got out, but because we were so far away, it was difficult to distinguish their features. It wasn't hard to see, though, that it was like something out of a movie.

They walked slowly yet precisely, each of their long legs not covering the ground between us particularly quickly, but not making an effort to speed up their pace. It screamed 'wealthy' and 'confident.' Each of the three, now discernible as two boys and a girl, managed not to get blow to pieces by the still rotating blades behind them. Instead, it added to how impressive and... cool they looked.

"I didn't know we could take our helicopters," a girl, so close to the window that she was practically pressed against it, said. She turned towards her friend, who looked a little annoyed, too.

"You wouldn't be able to," one scoffed. "None of us would. It's because it's them."

"And why not?" A small lipped and mouthed girl said, the little lip she had disappearing almost completely as she frowned.

"Because they're The Elites."

Gasps echoed all around us, and one girl even needed to balance herself with the wall. I raised my eyebrow in question, but Miles was too busy looking equally as shocked and excited to notice. Those around me all seemed to know exactly who these 'Elites' were, and I couldn't help but feel stupid and left out because I just had no clue.

"Who are The Elites?" I asked Miles, quietly.

Before he had a chance to answer, the girl who'd been whinging about not taking her own helicopter, turned with a shocked face. She shook her head so that her blonde hair looked like it glowed under the light. I wondered how much she'd paid for it to do that.

"How can you not know who The Elites are?" She said, almost outraged.

"Annabelle, she is a peasant."

"Excuse me?" I said, fists clenched to stop them shaking. I stood up, eye level with her. "Who do you think you're talking to?" 

I was about ready to lunge at her, sizing her up, as Miles dragged me away. He pushed me until we were out of the door and were walking down a corridor.

"Woah, Woah, Jo. Chill." He held my shoulders, more so I didn't charge back in there, than to calm me down. Even so, I relaxed.

"Who is she to call me a peasant? I didn't even know people still did that. What a bitch," I snarled.

"It's not so bad," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. His hand lazily felt along the wall as we walked, over the paintings and curtains. "It's just the level of the school's hierarchy."

"Did you not hear what she called us?"

I stopped completely. With my arms crossed and brow raised, I turned to him.

"Yeah, but I mean at least we have a title. You have The Elites and us, the Peasants, but everyone else just kinda floats in between. They have no identity, and no one remembers who they are. They don't have a place."

I scoffed, but didn't vocally disagree with him. "Fine, I see your point. Who are The Elites, anyway?"

"God, you really have been living under a rock. You must have seen a magazine with their faces on the cover, surely?"

"Erm... no? I don't really read magazines."

"I can't believe you've never heard of them!" He sound almost as outraged as the girl. "They're everywhere!"

"That's not telling me who they are," I said, pointedly.

"Right," he said, dragging me along the corridor further still, until we could see the three figures just about, even if it was only the back of their heads. "That one, on the left is Noah Ramirez. He's the playboy, if you will. You know, he sleeps with everyone—"

"I know what a playboy is, Miles."

"Well, I don't know," he said, hands thrown into the air. "You didn't know who they were, so...? Anyway, not the point. Noah inherited a lot of money from his grandma, no one really knows where she got it from, but he got a lot."

"Ramirez? What is that, Spanish?"

"Yeah, he's loaded, incredibly good looking, and has a Spanish accent. I'm pretty sure he's from Barcelona," he said, almost more to himself than me. "The girl's Autumn." He nodded towards the brown haired girl, wearing a beige, Burberry coat.

I don't know why her name sounded so familiar. It was within touching distance, but I just couldn't quite grab it and place it.

"Most of her money is family or from her brother."

"Brother?"

"Yeah, him." I looked towards the centre guy, with his billowing jacket, and perfect hair. He was about the same height as the Noah guy, maybe slightly taller, and even from the back, there were certain similarities between the girl and him that made it clear they were related.

"He's easily the most influential—" he stopped himself short as lunch was called, and we both immediately rushed towards the dinner hall.

We must have walked further than we thought because most people were already in the hall, and only a few stragglers were still going in.

"Miles, hurry up! I'm hungry!" I called over my shoulder, turning to pull him along with me.

As I turned back around, I collided with something, hard. I clutched my forehead at hitting it on the thing, full force. Miles wasn't quick enough to catch me as I stumbled backward and landed on the floor, hard.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I—" I began to apologise, until I looked up at the stony face of the person I'd bumped into.

Shit.