The Lone Dove #1

It is time to begin...

CHAPTER ONE: An Enemy of the Elite

When I was a child, my Father played games. Caressed them, stroking his company, as one example, like felt silk across a poor woman's skin, the company seemed to be everything, but so was his wife, and his daughter...they were his everything too. All companies are played like that of games. Like chess boards and every chess piece seems to change. Even the King. The Queen too. He was an entrepreneur, for a company so vast and wide, it seemed so unattainable at the time, so far-fetched, so hard to reach and yet...it was done. It was achieved.

The games he played included reading.

Lots, and lots of reading.

'Pick out the problem'—he'd say to me, 'find the solution'—he'd encourage and aid when necessary, but only when I was at the desperate need for it. Mom despised it, his want to teach me such mature ways in the business world. I learned fast or not at all, he wasn't harsh, but he was strict. He wasn't soft, but he was loving. See, the dynamics between our relationship, my Father's relationship and myself is what was complicated. My Mom wanted to give me a normal childhood, my Dad didn't understand it, didn't acknowledge it because I wasn't living a normal life. I was the daughter of a multi-billionaire, of a company people use on their daily basis. Take Microsoft for example, everyone everywhere uses it.

That was the Parker's Enterprise. Everyone was using the software. Everyone knew how utterly unattainable it is for any other company to get on the same page, to walk the same pathway, to read the same chapter, to live in the same book. They couldn't. It was impossible. Improbable. Unacceptable, because it is not a company for everyone. It is and will always be built on blood, on bone, on lies and secrets and heartbreak...but love too.

The eulogy I gave wasn't heard by many. Guards surrounded the sight like insects in suits. I was born with guards surrounding me. With Mom's warm green eyes, Dad's astuteness and professionalism that I had to live up to. I knew that, I bleed that. But, it wasn't just living up to their expectations, it was taking on the job of Chief Executive, of running, of hiring and firing, of decision-making and...feeling this. Feeling so lost in the wilderness, walking on a rocky-road, no hand to hold or reach up to, no one to call Mommy or Daddy anymore.

That is what changed.

That is what broke my thirteen year old heart.

No more reading bedtime stories from Mom. No more teachings from Dad, even though I know there was more to learn, I know there was more to see. He couldn't speak from the grave. She couldn't love from the grave. He couldn't demand from the grave. And she couldn't calm me from the grave. But I could love them from where I stand on the green wet grass, on the blossoming temple, maybe even a shrine. Two completely different descriptions, but you get the idea. They were gone. I had ideas of why, but ideas of who...that was knowledge they took to the grave too.

Stevens, my personal, well-acquainted guard and second-Father stands next to me, holding the black umbrella above my head as I read out the small, little words I had to give. I swallowed, I stared up, I tore away and I broke. Glass shattered like bones in my skull, it could all be heard, it just couldn't be seen.

Four SUVs. Black, tinted. Well-protected and secure.

This is not a game John Parker played with me.

This is not a game he told or left behind.

A game of life.

A game of death.

He chose the wrong game.

And I was left with the only game left.

I wore a thin black trench coat, not accounting for just how cold the rain was on the very day it chose to run rivers along each and every stone. The umbrella removed, the sniffles arose from James and Jenny, a maid and a guard, both closest to my parents, both agreeing to take guardianship of me if something were to happen. Like he could see it, like he could touch the expensive blood running through his veins and out where it shouldn't have been.

I didn't get to see the crash, the tilt of the crime scene.

I didn't get the chance.

They say specialists were on it.

They say it is of top priority to find who did this.

It's been months and no person was held accountable, no arrests were made, no signs of activity, no idea who or why...but theories were tragically made.

I was thirteen years old, led to his grand office at the Parker's Computer Manufacturing and Software designing enterprise by guards all flanking me like I'm the Queen of England. Signing papers I understood, but feeling numbed because they were only constant reminders that my parents had passed on, that whatever history they had, whatever memories they made...were gone too. Stevens has been with me since my birth...but it just wasn't the same.

I wasn't the same.

When I read on the companies and assets we owned, a book was handed to me.

I sat down and I read, another game, read and memorise as much as possible.

I came across the 'C' section and stopped, "Celestial, that was my Mother's maiden name?" I murmured, we didn't speak much of the name. At least, I don't recall hearing so much about such a name.

Stevens sat across from me and the lawyers holding my parents' will, he stares at me softly, warmly, tenderly and sadly, I saw it coaxing his eyes, not falling from the surface to stay strong for me, when I wish he wouldn't, I wish to cry with someone too, "When your Mother's brother lost ownership of his half of the company, and your Mother's Mother had passed, it was passed down to her and Celestial became one with Parker. I watched it happen when your parents were teenagers." He said to me.

I looked at him, "Why didn't my Father mention this? This and a few other names I don't recognise. Why wasn't my next remaining family the brother? Mom's brother, what was his name?" I asked him.

He looked uncomfortable, "He was not mentioned in your parents will, they wished for you to be with someone closer. I cannot be your legal guardian, child. Your parents appointed James and Jenny to be your guardians, to be a part of their family, Terry and Lia." He whispered to me, hand reaching to cover mine, I looked up at him.

"I have to move out." I whispered. It was no question. I knew I had to.

He pressed a kiss to my hairline, "Be strong, sweetheart. We'll get through this, one day at a time." He murmured.

That was how it was left.

That was the final word.

The final signature.

The final memory.

And so, I became the new CEO. And running an enterprise like mine, like that of my family's...it required every weight to be placed on my shoulders. The heavier it got, the more I fought because I was taught to fight. Stevens says that was the only flaw...I didn't know when to stop fighting.

Even in high school, at Queen City High. I didn't know when to stop withholding the truth from the friends I hold dear...yet the friends I still keep at an arm's length.

We were a bunch of nobody's.

We were heightened students, essentially looking for a way out of the locked ordinariness, here at Queen City High. I'm a student—not new, fairly regular, at this everyday high school. Of course, I made friends along the way, who wouldn't? But this isn't just about friendship, it's about the choices one must make to maintain solutions in the hardest of worlds.

We made the stupid, yet most strategic decision, to put ourselves, my friend's and I on the globe, in the school. By 'we', I do mean the friends I've had since my two-year old toddler self begged both my high-strung, overly protective parents to let me visit a general daycare and make actual friends that weren't situated online.

This had been one of Dad's rules, maybe even one of his fears...making friends but telling them nothing, showing them nothing of my birthright because of the danger it could and would bring upon each of them and for their safety...I must remain within the shadows of it all. Protecting, watching...anticipating and surviving.

Anyway...

It was my idea, but not my plan.

An easy idea, that would make a big statement, that's my job in the business world as well, I decided to combine both personal and general worlds of mine. This was not recommended, but I read the rules before I broke them. That's good enough.

It was not my plan to meet the Royal Elite of this respectful and influential Academy and it wasn't my plan to fall in love with one of them either. I don't think anyone has a plan when falling in love, I know I certainly couldn't imagine the weight of it, the intensity it shielded and simultaneously exposed in some of the most organised, scheduled people in the world.

I was and still am...one of them.

Had I known before, that this was how my life would have turned out, everyone would change their previous decisions, I perhaps, would have never suggested the idea I did because it infuses a larger target. The bigger the target, the easier it is to shoot, aim, fire...and eventually hit at least some part of it.

It wasn't a risk I wanted to take and yet, I unwillingly, unknowingly, took it anyway.

"We should do something this year, just the three—" Diana was interrupted.

The sound of a purposeful clearing of the throat interrupts her and a rather boisterous tone of voice calls on her strategically, "—fine, alright, the FOUR of us, you bloody happy Gunner—" He interrupts her again. Bad choice to interrupt an already alleviated Diana Rangers. When she started...it was a near damn feat for her to stop. His face scrunches in disgust, hating the sound of his last name from her lips, just in her tone of voice, secretly we all knew he adored it.

Though, we also knew he'd rather she call him by his first name and have a much more meaningful and emotional reason behind name. Men weren't so romantic. At least Trevor wasn't. Carter on the other hand...he had his moments. But, to get the best things in life, not just love and sacrifice and tender loving care...it requires years and years of work, experience—perhaps even a bloody great deal of courage.

"Yes, I am positively delighted, you bloody turd-blossom!" He curses her in annoyance, both still as oblivious as ever in the fact the chemical attractions floating around them like molecules in atoms is the mere barrier that is stopping them from staring at each other and seeing what everyone else thought was exceptionally, tremendously obvious.

We don't normally speak in this tongue.

Turd-blossom is identified to be slang for the positive consequence of something like beauty...coming from something that is—and mind my language on this one—absolute shit.

So, Trevor was not in the greatest of moods with Diana at the current moment.

If ever.

May I present, Mr Trevor Daniel Gunner, not that his middle name means anything or ever actually comes up, but is perhaps important in the 'need-to-know-for-the-hell-of-it' case scenario, and the so-called 'turd-blossom'—which sometimes did describe her—Miss Diana Rangers.

Two of my four closest best friends behind these fluent halls, whom which had been with me ever since I dipped my hands in pink paint at the age of two and smeared it through two year old Trevor's hair in Sunny-side Kindergarten.

I also nicknamed him 'P.P.P', for Pretty Pink Princess. Childish—I know that. Moronic maybe—I know that too, but I was a child and unlike at home, I had to be a competent, sophisticated child, but with them I could...loosen up from the tense blood I was born with.

Born into.

One: he hated the colour pink and no one was at all surprised.

Two: he knew that I too, did not like the colour pink. Which was unlike almost every other girl at such a young age. Navy blue or velvet red was what made me smile.

Three: Once we left Kindergarten...neither nickname was mentioned again.

He was smart for his age, observant. Trevor, I mean. Every time painting was an activity at the centre, I'd avoid that specific colour, at all costs. He had obviously observantly noticed and decided sheer payback was certainly in order.

That was how I met Diana, Rosa-belle Tardy and Carter Anderson. Though the next day in Kinder-garden Centre, Trevor shoved his hands in light green paint and after decorating my blonde hair with a disgusting green colour. He yelled across the room, screaming it's the 'G.G.G', the Gurgling Green Grasshopper.

Another nickname that wasn't mentioned again after leaving the kindergarten I had to beg my parents to let me go to as a child.

I had partially creative, partially gullible friends. Who chose insults from a Shakespearean catalogue over deciding to listen to their parents yelling at the television on game night or hearing their mother, even an older sibling, curse in the kitchen. We chose a more innovative way of...swearing our four year old heads off.

It's not like we'd get scolded because after all...we weren't legitimately swearing. We weren't making so much as a chaotic fuss, more of mildly wild fun.

No dollar needed to be confined in a glass jar that would break one day anyway.

I also hated Grasshoppers, an incident back at home that I'd prefer not to discuss, just that those freakishly athletic creatures should only have a specific habitat, far away from me.

I must admit, his was more creative, but his parents have been making him read since he was one and a half, and he is part Japanese. Though Asian's are claimed to be much smarter than other cultures, it is not a mutation within the brain, it's the fact those families have priority of one to two children in each family. Each child is the focus in the family—parents, grandparents, even great grandparents fully focus on teaching the child as much as possible at such young ages too.

It's not because they are biologically smart.

As so many assume.

Or as so many are envious of. I wouldn't call it something to be envious of...it is that of someone's culture, of many someones culture...not particularly the same for mine, I never met my grandparents on either side.

Carter and Rosa-belle rolled their eyes in synchronisation, fairly—if not mildly annoyed at Trevor's obvious flirting with Diana. The far to oblivious Diana has still yet to catch on to this long time running realisation. Though, Trevor seems to be self-diagnosed with the exact same disadvantaged condition. They were focused on the task at hand...the task that would change my entire life.

"Cry me a river, Gunner. Now, as I was saying, since the Royal Elite has gone MIA, I think it's time we stand up for our generation and do something different, something spontaneous—" Diana was interrupted yet again.

Her facial expressions scream her slightly aggressive side, and just how much she dislikes the disagreeable act of speaking over another under such important decisions as this.

The Royal Elite.

No, their names aren't the initials of Royal or Elite, but their wealthy family inheritance and costly attires beg to differ. Their commander, Maximus Myers. He's the son of a multi million dollar enterprise, The Myers International Accounting Agency. A shared, British and French software organisation, with many oppositions due to the decreased rate of rarity within the enterprise.

In other words, it's software is common and that is the company's downfall. It doesn't mean Maximus is a spoilt brat, though sometimes, at the oddest of times...I do catch him acting pompous, but I didn't know him personally. No one outside of his group did.

It's well-known, but it also has well-known competition and that...that is bad for business. The current owner, William Myers, a man of want, greed and fabricated love, that no one but me, can see through his transparently well-built walls of secrets and lies. His company isn't perfect, he just doesn't want his family or his customers to know of it. Maximus Myers, is of course, the heir to his father's enterprise.

Most millionaires are more likely to befriend others who are just like them. Maximus Myers is the commander in his group of charming, delectable millionaires. These include the triple artists of our time, Ivan Torres, Andrew Dean and Ryan McLain. They had easily inherited their parents' co-emerged art industries, music producing and the common few hundred thousand pound paintings that spread across Britain and France. They sung covers, but they made songs too. Songs most females would cry out for, some most guys would glare at for everyone knew they were considered 'Goals' for the male species.

One other angelical eye in the Fashion world under her Mother's reign, is Everdeen Clare De Lores. The last name is French, however she does not speak the language as fluently as Ryan McLain. While not much is proposed by that of Everdeen, I don't believe she's as shallow as the rumours about her say. Auburn-haired, beautiful...but whether her personality changes her cliche status of 'rich bitch'...only time will tell...if I ever meet her in person, anyway.

Back to the Elite.

They're walking enigmas to everyone with lesser standards and more time to read magazines on high school dramas and multi-million dollar songs with swooning lyrics and dashing smiles, though whether there was more behind those smiles...that was the ultimate question.

They do, however, shower in the money their parents collect because, they believe they have the right to. As they do, but first impressions are everything as is assumed and they don't seem to have quite gotten that memo, because their first impressions involves the key words of 'spoilt', 'wealthy' and one phrase that has a nice diamond stud ring to it, 'players of the heart'.

It's hard to say whether they agree with the public's opinion because they have done nothing to change their proclaimed titles which is why their fans and the rest of the public's eye believe the rumours to be true.

That Everdeen is a stuck-up bitch.

That Ryan is a pushover for her every beck and call.

That Ivan is the ultimate player.

That Maximus will walk in his Father's footsteps and ruin his Accounting legacy even more so than it was already.

That Andrew couldn't hold a girl for a day because he was a nervous wreck.

And that their group was a walking, laughing distraction from everyone else's miserable lives.

"Oh, pushing in front of people in the lunch line always gives off the gruff-buff-leadership vibe if that's what we're going for?" Rosa-belle suggested. Diana gives her the stink eye, to which Rosa-belle shrinks into herself slightly, not liking her idea being shoved to the sidelines and ripped up like refill paper on a bad day.

"Tamper with the sprinklers and make it rain shredded exam papers in all the classrooms. A typical prank?" Carter proposed, giving Trevor a high-five and fist bump, only I catch Trevor sneakily giving Diana a look, she shares it as they both mouth, 'lame'.

First, Carter would need to get into the file cabinets where all past, present and future exam papers are held, and we all know...he doesn't quite have the balls for it.

Mind my language.

"Spray tomato sauce on some tampons and throw it into their gold-rimmed lockers, that should piss them off." Trevor recommended. He smirks with a devious glint, I all but stare at him blankly until Diana fiercely contributes her judgement on their ideas.

"NO, NO, NO, NO. UGH, you people have the weirdest, and some of the most disgusting imaginations. We need something that really poses a statement out there. Not the idea we'll make everyone think we closed our eyes and pointed at a book of cliche pranks and said, let's go with that one? That's stupid." Diana's red stained face, curled with her furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists, it was easy to tell she was on the verge of going all Godzilla any minute now.

I sighed, still reading an important district report on my tablet, so I propose my idea of 'doing something spontaneous' to the group and find to very much regret it, later.

"Why don't we just sit at their table?"

My idea.

Not the greatest.

But one of the most life-changing ideas I could have ever introduced.

Stone-cold silence followed.

A raven bird could swing by and no one would notice it wink, that's the type of quietness that dispersed amongst our condensed atmosphere.

There was no sign of movement, not even the sound of breathing. It was as if the world had stopped turning, there was no noise, no axis to measure. Just absolute silence. At this sudden turn of events I glanced up, they were all staring at me in perplexed wonderment, devious mischief adorns on Diana's angular cheeks. This is how it all started, one sentence, one stronger than the source of cliche pranks, this didn't even seem like that much of a prank, but sitting at a Royal's table, paid for by Royal's...is certainly a statement that will possess a talk show in the school's gossiping vocabulary and certainly give Diana what she wants before we graduate.

To be noticed.

If life wasn't bland before. They were choosing to swipe a true wild-card today.

And, I haven't even had breakfast yet.

Which was meant to just be...bland tea.

"You are one heck of a genius mini Einstein, Poppy Parker." Diana exclaimed with her rosy red lips turned upwards in a sickening smirk and she taps each of her fingers with the palms of both hands slamming together in scarce excitement. It was a creepy, 'I've-just-won-the-jackpot' look. All I did was blink at her but, internally, I didn't like the look one bit.

No one would if they knew the number of troubles I've stifled through with just that one look.

Besides, I was not a theoretical physics fan, nor would I voluntarily enclose on in-depth relativity of space and time. I'm more into the zero's and ones that can quite literally define a person by mere fingerprints on a keyboard and fast hacking skills that swiftly and single-handedly give me what I want, when I feel I need it. Einstein and I were not in the same league.

The others nodded their heads in absolute agreement. Diana then took a sudden hundred and eighty degree turn, the skirts of her dress flying around her as she stomps towards the cafeteria where our whole school eats their lunch during a winter such as ours. The rain was practically dropping hammers on the schools roof. Thunder and lightning decorated our dark skies giving it some flavour with a tinge of wildly untamed spice. It was a sight to see and a great privilege to hear.

Every day, every second our winter season decorated our environment was another day I would smile my brightest of all my other ordinary and fairly dimmed smiles. There is nothing I love more than dangerous darkened storms of riveting thunder and lightning in the near middle of winter.

Diana was most certainly the female commander of our interesting cluster of stars, her equal was Trevor. Both were cunning, smart and calculative with added comedy, a shade of vindictive leadership was required in the role and the both took it phenomenally. Carter, Rosa-belle and I, would differ from the positions levelled underneath Trevor and Diana's ranks. This was what made my 'working in the shadows' a constant, crashing need, one that must be maintained, must be nurtured and must always remain.

We were ordinary and my group wanted something more, I made the mistake of explaining the supposed treat...or trick, it was their choice to follow through with the original trick. The treat was the reward of publicity, mischief courage and popularity to the status of the Royal Elite.

I threw them the bait, not realising they were dumb enough to leap for it, inconsequentially. They dragged me along with them.

Apparently, my friends want to take the high-road, and do something no one has ever done before.

Sit at the Royal Elites table while they are out on a holiday across Europe for the last three months. They weren't suspected to return anytime soon. It was an assumption. Everyone knows what happens when one assumes.

What could possibly go wrong?

Stupid question, right?

It's the year twenty-twelve again...and we could all burst into flames at any moment. Or we could fall off the face of the Earth and never stop. I was a mouse in a lab, running miles on the mill and ordered not to stop, programmed not to stop. The question was...who placed the damn cheese on the other side of the mill, the side I was racing toward.

Anything could go wrong.

But that's the beauty of it.

If you're a 'glass-half-full person'.

I'm both that, and that of a 'glass-half-empty' kind-of person.

I rolled my eyes at them before only now noticing that I had not yet moved from my spot and they were half-way down the hallway...seem I wasn't always the centre of attention and the walls of my shadows remained.

You're doing good, Dove. Just keep going, keep going for Dad.

My mind swirly as I saw them dashing towards the entrance of the cafeteria, a mission in their steps and nerves wracked through mine. I sighed again, only this time in defeat not frustration.

Why did I even bother in making the suggestion?

Positively stupid to put that idea into their heads, if the royals found out, who knows what they'd do to us.

Just as I was about to put my tablet in my bag, I realised I walked out of my classroom without my freaking bag. Exhaustion got the better of my system and now my forgetful trigger pulled through and I lose the memory of actually bringing a bag with me, to school, and I bring one everyday.

I swear if I sigh anymore I would probably be sent to the hospital for a dysfunctional disorder in respiration. That wouldn't be good. I ran my fingers through my blonde curls and venture down the hallway, retracing my previous steps. Once I finally locate the classroom of computer engineering, I quickly give the door a knock and watch as my teacher moves toward me, through the glass door to open it.

"I apologise, sir, but I think I left my bag in here." I said before I quickly glanced around the room, he smiled, understanding my predicament and not questioning it, or throwing a judgmental glance my way. That is what was great about the teachers at this school...most of them understood.

"That's alright, feel free to look around, I'll just be in the staffroom. Once you're done make sure to close the door on your way out." I felt almost relieved he hadn't locked it or I would have used a pin and blamed it on the strong winds of the hallway. Even though there is no open airflow. They see a blonde and go, 'yes, dear, we understand completely' and secretly give me the shaking of the incredulous and defeated head.

Bimbo.

The stereotype is so unfair and so very wrong. But, not with this professor, not with any professor at this school, as I previously mentioned...they knew.

"Of course, sir. Thank you." I said hurriedly.

"No problem." With that he walked out, allowing me to pass first. When I found a small plain black bag at the end of the classroom I took a deep breath in hushed relief. I've got everything in that bag, I cannot believe I honestly forgot about it.

I've struggled ever since I lost them. Who wouldn't...I lost my parents. Pain doesn't disperse like evaporating water...it numbs like that of a glacier forming. How many can really claim it leaves the body completely?

I've not been myself.

I used to be exactly like Diana, I am actually the one who taught Diana the mischievous tricks she has up her sleeve because if I am being completely honest, she used to be incredibly shy. It even took me three months to get her to say 'Hello' to me, when we were in kindergarten. So, yes, she was definitely shy.

I used to be the outgoing one, but now I'm much more reserved, and more focused on trying to run my Father's empire, Parkers Industry of Computer Manufacturing Designs. Not one person in my group of friends knew my father and my mother were the owner's of a multi-billion dollar company that's situated across many states around the world. Like I've said, no one could know, not even a little. Their parents may have, no one had mentioned it, they were only focused on being happy their children are friends with me. Sad as that is, but that wasn't my friends' doing.

The Royal Elite combined had nothing on me, but that is—of course—because I have ownership of all my parents' companies, all conducted into one, I am much harder to get a hold of, let alone meet, so not many know of my other life.

The closest headquarters of the business is currently situated in France, though I am more interested in manufacturing a few more of our designs in Hong Kong and Russia. I am even scheduled to fly over to Russia in a month to see the progress that's been made and to ensure there is a steady cost and production increase for the company's latest products.

'Parker' is a common last name so my friends and everyone here didn't suspect a thing in the slightest, which was convenient. Being a 'Parker' was both convenient...and heartbreaking all in one.

Grabbing my bag, I gracefully slid my tablet into its proper compartment and quickly check my phone for any client calls and emails. To which I find, I have a few with Jamison on the line.

I swear under my breath as one of my managers working on the job in Moscow, Russia has called me six times. I had Aaron Dark-wood on that case, on that build. Merely because he was the main building manager under my Father's name, he was one of our assets in that awful book.

Damnit. It vibrates with another incoming call, "Parker speaking." I speak monotonically.

"Miss Parker, how are you this evening?" Jamison's voice replies in answer, cheerful and ready to discuss any problems from within the build of my district held in Moscow, Russia.

"Swell, Jamison. I need to know if there are any problems with the manufacturing designs or costs or even if there aren't enough workers on the job. I'll require the resumes of any possible hiring applicants in the building industry as there is a deadline on this project and it's imperative I get these buildings up and running. I also require status reports on these costs as well. I do hope you're writing this down Jamison." I tell him, positive he would be writing this information down, but when he didn't one time, and it was important...let's just say, it's not going to happen again.

The designs were always important...one mistake could cost millions and while I could afford it, I didn't need to spend that kind of money on a job done correctly and like Dad always said, to do it the right way, I had to do it my way.

Sometimes...agreeing with him wasn't always best.

Other times, disagreeing with him was like dragging a knife through my heart. It was wrong.

"Yes, ma'am. All is well and truly on the way. I have sent you an email regarding new and required production costs as there was a slight setback on the twenty-third floor of the social and communications operations building, due to faulty scaffolding but I am pleased to notify you that there were no severe injuries for any workers. I have also sent you a few more applications for workers looking to be a part of this fantastic new coming of the Parkers Computer manufacturing company." He says hurriedly, eager to tell me good news. It's all about being the boss, if I get bad news from any manager of mine, there will be hell to pay for it.

"Alright, that's good news, Jamison. Glad to hear everyone is alright then, though work must still go on. Thank you for the report and I'll be sure to get you confirmation on the applications as soon as possible." After that, I hung up. Fed up, I need the buildings to be completed in Russia within the next month or I cannot start the job in Hong Kong till next year.

Life as a teen entrepreneur is not as glamorous as it sounds. I rubbed my hands down my face in exhausted frustration. Let's face it, I could do with a holiday but, I'd be behind in at least three years if I took even a weeks worth vacation. That's how much destruction can be caused if I take just seven days off. Drastic—I know...but sadly, it was very true.

"Poppy?" I glanced up at my name being called. Mrs Barren, my English teacher adjusted her glasses as she glances at me in question.

"Yes, Mrs Barren."

"Is everything alright, dear?" She was sincere. It's been awhile since someone looked at me like this and Mrs Barren managed it every English class. I loved that she was.

"Oh, everything is quite alright, Mrs Barren. Though, I was just wondering if I could possibly hand in my draft for my essay on the Russian Revolution of nineteen-seventeen." I ask, though considering the assignment has not been given out yet, I wouldn't be surprised if she said it might be awhile.

"Oh, of course, dear, but you do understand the essay hasn't even been assigned yet and the deadline isn't for another few months. It's incredible how you have already completed it and still be at least a few weeks ahead of the rest of the class. I am very proud of you, Poppy." Her eyes glistened as she looked down at me with slight astonishment and the posture of a mother proud of their daughter. I saw so much of my Mother in her. Which is why she was the only teacher I was personally fond of.

"Thank you, Mrs Barren, that's very kind of you. I best be off but as of right now—" as I'm speaking I quickly send her my document through email and ensure it is sent before I glance back up, "—I have just sent it to your email, I hope that suffices for now or I can share the document, if you prefer?" I ask, her eyes widen.

"No, no, dear, that's quite alright. I'll be sure to send you feedback as soon as possible though I am sure your not too worried considering the essay isn't due for a while now." Her voice, sincere and delicate as always, English teachers are thankfully always so calm. Mine is, at least.

"Oh, I apologise, that's not too worry, I just wanted to get the project done early but thank you for your time and there's no rush on any feedback yet, just when you're free. Thank you again, Mrs. Barren." I nod my head to her, out of curtesy.

"No need to worry, dear. I just to make sure you weren't stressed or anything like that. You take care." She whispers, her last words growing softer by the minute. I nod in gratitude.

I give her a small smile before I go back to checking my emails whilst moving through the groups of numerous other students. I saw many from our France, Brazil, Poland and Australian divisions, two of them require higher demand for expansion and higher production costs for new designs collaborated within our manufacturing communications and design unit in France. I'll be working all night to get them those, a visit to Australia and Brazil is apparently very much required within the next two-three months.

Sometimes, I wonder what I'm still doing in school. Oh right, I'm still only seventeen years old and require guidance and qualifications regarding my education.

Guidance? I own and run a multi-billion dollar company, but I still require an adult to guide me in making the right decisions in life. Did my parents make the right decision to leave right when I needed them most? No...but I always knew it wasn't a decision they made by choice.

Qualifications? For future careers because no one knows that I am the main supplier in keeping this influential school running successfully. Well, except for the principal, he knew who my parents were, so any mischievous tricks my friends pull off in school grounds. They go scot-free.

Capturing the essence of the situation, laid out directly in front of me, I pause in my stepping and raise both disagreeable eyebrows in utter disbelief. This...this is beyond crazy. Diana, Trevor, Carter, Rosa-belle...they're all situated on the very table that was discussed in recently past events. They actually went through with it. Oh, lord...I didn't think they'd be crazy enough to do it.

That's the moment I regretted my idea, my stupid suggestion made in the first place. I did it...I said it merely to join in on the group talk, instead of purposely positioning myself on the sidelines like I always do...this was...I couldn't describe it. I couldn't afford what they were doing. I never thought they'd do it, damnit.

I'm astonished to a statue-still pose.

The Royals...they most certainly watch. Only, they watch with an amused aura, mirth in their eyes and comical smirks on their glossy lips. I'm bewildered on what to do next. They sit in the farthest corner of the room, shaded and hidden, no wonder they couldn't be so easily spotted in such a crowd. They weren't hidden well enough from me.

They're grinning in anticipation, probably seeing a group doomed to fail under the spotlight. My friends, densely oblivious to their stares, laugh wildly as they wink at the lingering stares and shocked faces of every other student. Diana decides to publicly embarrass the hell out of me,

"POPPY PARKER, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" Her voice echoes across the walls. I visibly wince. Thanks Diana. She at least looked a little apologetic at the sudden excitement in her voice. They did it. She wanted to show me she had the courage to do it, that she was changing, she was growing.

I look at her now.

She stares at me, 'I'm sorry' she mouthed to me.

She wanted change, maybe this would help, maybe this would do something.

I slowly walk towards them, suddenly very conscious of every eye scorching my very figure, but I don't dare blush. I don't dare look at the Royals though from the corner of my eye, I can see their amused gazes shoot to my body as I walk around the tables. I fold my arms as I walk up to the red carpet leading to the table my friends currently occupy.

"Help her up, Harold. Boy, you're one sorry excuse for a guard." Diana reprimands the six foot guard as he rolls his eyes and raises his hand to me. Diana was side-glancing the cheerleaders, tilting her chin up a little, silently staring them down for the first time in a long time, for every knock in physical, every rumour in classes, every comment spat from insolent bullies on the insolent football team and insolent cheerleading squad.

I put my hand in the awaiting guard's one, but right when we're face-to-face, I lean in closer to his face and he gulps slightly, only a little, I narrowed my eyes at that, what did he know, thought it is funny seeing someone physically bigger than me. As if he could sense it merely with one look in my direction.

"I want to know—" He nods furiously in anticipation, even before my request, "—exactly who paid you to go through with this stunt?" I eye him closely.

The poor guy was visibly sweating, side-glancing someone behind him. It wasn't the table or anyone on it, so exactly where was he looking...that I already knew, but the others...were to preoccupied changing their worlds, hoping for the better, though they may be claiming it for the worse.

"Miss, I really have no idea what you're talking about." His stuttering said otherwise. Still holding his hand, I took another step on the platform. Before letting go of his hand, I gave him a pointed look.

He sighed in utter defeat, "Miss, I apologise, but your friend is much scarier than my own boss. She said she'd feed me with death-eating tarantulas from the science lab, if I didn't let her through." He was a good liar. Not great, but good enough.

I rolled my eyes and handed him a handkerchief, which he gratefully took with a small smile, though I could tell he was holding the urge to roll his eyes. Perhaps a good actor too. I turned towards the head of the table, where Diana sat, ungracefully munching on some nachos she'd ordered. She gave me that look, whilst wiggling her eyebrows at me. I was a computer engineering genius but, the most they knew was I could hack into anything that's hackable. So, pretty much everything.

I gave her a stern look, hoping it's a clear indication that we should leave while we're still alive. She did not listen.

I walked around the table to the end seat, a waiter came my way but I waved him off, I'm not hungry. I took out my phone as I sat down in the chair, before getting to work, I was half way through before asking,

"Any suggestions?" My voice could be heard from afar considering no one in the entire room was talking.

Everyone curious as to what our next move was.

They had no idea just what I could do.

The power of a phone, a device, not everything is for social media or correcting ones status from single or not, posting new photos of food types, friendly get-togethers or even drunken parties. No one knew the full extent of such a powerful, portable little device with so many opportunities.

I was about to expose a very lethal one, and it wasn't even the true extent of what I could do.

"Hmm, gosh so many to choose—" She was playing the Waiting Game. Dad played this game too, on most of his clients. Waiting for the first one to burst out their candour and find the easiest, most subtle way of getting cut from the company. Perhaps to promote a nervous wreck because their boss was a no-good, cheating manager that Dad wanted to ruin, and taught me how to do just that. Ruin men and women who didn't follow our rules.

I interrupt her before she can finish. Annoyed and silently hinting with my eyes at the unsuspected audience they thought were on holiday. As dense as she is, she doesn't react to my subtle hints.

"We're likely to get into trouble for this, you know that right?" Trying to reason with her was like trying to tell a lion to not eat its prey, even though it's trapped and directly in front of it. It's near to hopeless. More so, useless. What good would telling an untameable predator, that this 'one' is most certainly not the prey it's sharp teeth is looking for? She had her nails sinking into the red royal cloth of the table. She was ready.

"Just work your magic." She begged with a puppy-dog look, the others on the table just looked at me with smirks dancing across their faces. They knew I could shock a crowd like this...but no one could anticipate the extent of it.

I lean back in my seat, catching the eye of a few students before setting my gaze back on my phone. Just a few more seconds and I'd managed to get into the school sound system for only the cafeteria, now it was only a matter of choosing the perfect song.

I finally decided on the song, all I needed to do was press it and use our school speakers in the cafeteria.

'Diamond Heart' by Alan Walker blasted through the speakers, pouncing from each wall as I turned it up, just a little. I felt it fitting for the single moment that changed us all, the single moment we were officially noticed, but it was they who felt they needed to be. I stuck more to the shadows than a child holds their teddy in the dark. This wasn't fitting for me.

Everyone jumped in astonished bewilderment at the sudden noise from the speakers they didn't know were even there. Shock would be an understatement. I tilted my head to the side, only slightly to see the Royals were just as shocked as the entire student body.

Diana and Rosa-belle started dancing to the music and singing to the lyrics, while Trevor and Carter were just bobbing their heads and sometimes smirking at girls that gave them the time of day. Trevor and Carter both tap me on the shoulder as they go join the cheerleaders, Rosa-belle and Diana.

I slowly put my phone down as glanced around to see the cheerleading squad and their football team dance and sing to their hearts content as well. It certainly sent the school a statement, I'll give my team that. They knew how to attract a crowd. I knew how to attract chaos without even trying.

This included the Royal Elite, only they weren't staring at my friends, but instead were glaring at me. I made the mistake of sending my own death glare at them, of sharing my own aura and it certainly surprised them, whilst pretty much pissing them off in the process. The worst of them was the infamous Maximus Myers, the man was so mad he broke his glass.

With his own hand.

His face even screams his insecurities and the strong need to be enrolled in anger management, but a conflict grazes those eyes, even from how far I sit, I can still see it.

I tilt my head slightly, whilst my hand rests on my chin, in a scrutinising gesture. Their faces furrow at it, their confusion grows in the mist of all the chaos in the forensic room of song and dance.

I was not intimidated, and that is what sent visible fear bleed from the pores of their skin. Those who are use to receiving intent, anger-driven gazes will writhe and shrivel in fear. They haven't a clue who I am.

Now, I get it.

They were smirking with practiced precision because they didn't think we could perfect the art of popularity and get away with it, but we did. We hit the spotlight and nailed it...so, what now? What is the worst a mere group of millionaires could do to a billionaire they knew nothing of.

It was another secret. Another lie. Another chess board. Another game piece to tarnish for this Queen would not go down without a fight. Without a reason to do so and right now...I had no bloody reason to bow.

As we have just made an Enemy of the Elite.