Different Worlds: The School For The Rich

"At last, my daughter is about to attend the most prestigious school in the entire world!" I watched my father, tears in his eyes but a broad smile on his face.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes; he could be such a dramatic person. "If your mother were here, she would be so proud of you," he said softly, letting out a deep sigh as he gazed at her picture on the desk. I glanced at the photo too. He was right; if Mom were here, she would be giving me a big hug and celebrating with me.

"I know, Dad," I replied quietly and hugged him back. He embraced me tightly, then pulled away, looking into my eyes—his dark ones meeting my pink ones. "Your ride is waiting outside. Have you got everything ready?" he asked, and I nodded, answering, "Yes." I grabbed the handle of my rolling bag, and together we made our way outside.

As I stared at the taxi, the driver's window slid open, and he nodded in greeting. We returned the nod. My dad lifted my bag and placed it in the trunk while I climbed into the car. Once everything was settled, he came back to face me, a big grin on his face, and cupped my cheeks, which I leaned into. "Always remember that I'm here for you, okay?" he said softly, and I nodded. "Of course, Dad. Goodbye."

He withdrew his hand, saying, "Goodbye." With that, the driver started the car, and we drove away. I turned to look through the rear window and saw my dad waving with the biggest smile, tears streaming down his face. He always gets so emotional—such a dramatic guy.

With a calm expression, I turned to gaze out the side window, taking in the buildings and the bustling crowd on the sidewalks, along with the cars navigating the streets. Finally, I was on my way to the prestigious school.

In our society, class hierarchy is crucial. There's the upper class, middle class, and lower class. Being in the middle class is advantageous because the upper class generally treats you well. However, those in the lower class are often looked down upon. The middle class typically gets sponsorships to attend the prestigious school, as only the upper class can afford the tuition. It's a privilege for the middle class since they have closer ties with the upper class.

People from the lower class usually cannot afford to attend that school. Yet, if they happen to be fortunate enough to have some wealth or connections to the upper class, they might gain entrance. Unfortunately, once their background as lower class is known, they often face disdain and bullying.

My parents belong to the lower class, but I’m able to attend this school because my dad won a lottery that gave us a substantial amount of money, enabling me to stay in the dorms and study there for four years. I insisted to my dad that I would be fine attending a regular school that he could afford, but he wanted me at this institution because of its advanced curriculum and excellent instruction. He believes that graduating from there will give me a significant advantage in the job market.

The prestigious school is called 'The School For The Rich University'. I find the name somewhat demeaning to us, as it suggests that only the affluent are welcome there. However, I understand that it was established by the wealthy in the 1800s, and they are the only ones who can afford tuition. It makes sense that the upper class favors the middle class, given that the founders of the school are a couple—a husband from the upper class and a wife from the middle class. I've researched the school’s history thoroughly.

Due to its global reputation, the school’s culture and standards have influenced many around the world. I find myself wondering what kind of people I will encounter there, hoping that I’ll meet good individuals because I know myself well enough to realize that if anyone tries to cross me, I won’t hold back.

"We've finally arrived," the driver announced. I turned forward and was greeted by an impressive statue fountain depicting a couple holding hands. The perfectly trimmed trees lined the entrance gates, enhancing the grandeur of the scene. My eyes widened at the sight of the school's vast and elegant exterior, making me feel out of place. The gates, made of polished metal, were immaculate and beautifully designed.

As I stepped out of the car, I grabbed my rolling bag from the trunk and tapped the car's back to signal the driver that I was finished. The vehicle drove away, revealing the open gates ahead, bustling with people arriving in sleek, black luxury cars. "Wow..." I murmured as I entered the school grounds.

I noticed many students clad in stylish and upscale clothing, accompanied by guards carrying their bags. A few were chatting animatedly about topics that didn't interest me. They sparkled with expensive jewelry adorning their hands, necks, and ears, further highlighting the school's affluent environment.

This was clearly a school for the wealthy, and I felt a wave of discomfort. Thankfully, for the moment, everyone seemed preoccupied with their own affairs and were not questioning the presence of someone like me. Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find a tall, muscular man dressed in a black suit. He had long white hair and striking green eyes. He offered me a smile, which I returned, not wanting to make a poor first impression.

"Good day, Miss Aisha. I'm Ken, your guide for today. Let me assist you with that bag," he said as I hesitated, unsure about accepting help. However, he didn't wait for my response. He took my bag and began walking away, so I sighed and followed him.

We turned right and glimpsed different angles of the school, which seemed even more enormous up close. The school stood at the center, flanked by dormitories—boys' dorms on the left and girls' dorms on the right.

As we walked, I spotted a large park filled with food stalls and a beautiful garden, abundant with flowers, trees, and patches of fruits and vegetables. "Isn't it beautiful?" Ken remarked, and I nodded with a smile. "Yes," I replied.

"We're finally here, Miss Aisha," Ken stated, leading me toward a grand, light pink building. In the center stood another fountain, this time featuring a cherubic statue, with water flowing serenely. My jaw dropped in astonishment—it looked extraordinary.

"So stunning," I whispered, and it seemed Ken heard me.

"That's true, Miss Aisha. Now, let's head inside." I nodded in agreement and followed him further into the building. Inside was a spacious lounge filled with numerous couches and bookshelves stocked with books and magazines. Elegant chandeliers lit the room, and the ceiling featured a painted mural of cherubs. On the other side of the lounge, there was a large kitchen equipped for cooking and dining, complete with several refrigerators. What kind of dorm is this?

“Let’s move on, Miss Aisha.” Ken began walking down the lengthy hallway, where pictures of the dorm queens, from the 1800s to the present, adorned the walls. This tradition occurred every year.

We turned left, passing numerous doors with numbers above them. I wondered how many people occupied those rooms, hoping there weren't too many since I’m not fond of crowded spaces. It’s not that I feel uncomfortable; I just find myself getting easily annoyed. Ken eventually stopped and turned to me. “This is your room: Room 101.” He handed me my bag while I grasped the handle of my rolling luggage with a smile. “Thank you, Ken,” I said gently. “I’m just doing my job, Miss Aisha,” he replied, giving me a courteous bow before leaving.

I stood in front of the door, curious about who my roommates might be and hoping for someone kind. Taking a calming breath, I opened the door and discovered a room with two beds, a large couch, and a TV in the center. Each bed had a spacious cabinet beside it.

Suddenly, something shuffled on the left bed, and the nearby cabinet swung open, startling me. Out popped a woman holding a disheveled pile of clothes. She had long, wavy brunette hair and purple eyes. “My roommate!” she exclaimed cheerfully, leaping off the cabinet and landing gracefully on the floor. She dashed toward me, and I smiled, feeling slightly confused. She grasped my hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, new roomie! I’m Mia.” Her voice was soft and filled with excitement.

I returned her smile awkwardly; this was an unusual yet pleasant start with my roommate. “I’m Aisha,” I replied warmly. She looked down and gasped at my bag. “You only brought this one? Nothing else?” she asked in disbelief, and I shrugged as I moved to my bed on the right. “Yes,” I said hesitantly, glancing at her numerous large and small bags. Goodness, she must come from wealth.

“It’s like you packed up and left your house,” I joked, trying to break the ice, and thankfully, she laughed in response. “Well, I was tired of living at home,” she quipped, playing off my joke, and I couldn’t help but smile, relieved to find her so approachable.

“So, are you a first-year?” I inquired while organizing my belongings, folding my clothes and placing them neatly in the cabinet. “Yes, what about you?” she asked, mirroring my actions and tidying her own clothes.

“Yes,” I answered, grabbing my essentials and setting them on the desk while she watched me through the mirror’s reflection. “Then we’re the same! I’m so lucky to have a friend in the same year!” she exclaimed excitedly, even doing a little victory dance. I chuckled at her enthusiasm.

Just then, an announcement echoed through the hallway, loud enough for us to hear inside the room.

“Attention, ladies! Once you’re all settled, please come down to the meeting hall for an important meeting.”

I turned to Mia, who was already looking at me. “Shall we go?” I suggested, and she nodded in agreement.

When we arrived at the meeting hall, only the dean was speaking about the dorm rules, and I listened intently. The rest of the attendees appeared distracted, chatting and laughing, but I chose to tune them out; their business was not my concern.

“If you encounter any issues, please feel free to approach me, as I will take action. I want this dorm to be a peaceful environment,” the dean stated, her voice firm.

Her name was Miss Percy. She had black hair styled in a bun and striking blue eyes. Although she was thirty-five, she looked much younger, like a university student. Her charisma shone through her strict demeanor, and I appreciated her fairness. It gave me a sense that she understood my perspective, which helped me relax.

Once the meeting concluded, we made our way out of the expansive meeting hall. Mia chatted amiably with me, and I listened, a slight smile on my face. She has a bubbly personality, and I gradually felt myself becoming more at ease in this school. My initial day was going well—until, that is, Mia inadvertently bumped into someone.

"Ugh!" A woman's voice could be heard, laced with annoyance and disdain. Mia gasped in surprise, then turned to see who it was, her eyes widening in fear. "Oh my gosh, Beatrice! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!" she stammered, attempting to wipe a coffee stain from the woman’s white crop top. However, the woman brushed Mia's hands away.

"Don’t touch me! How dare you ruin my shirt? This is new! My dad bought it as a gift. You little brat," Beatrice shouted, raising her hand to strike Mia.

Everyone around us, myself included, was watching intently. When I realized she was about to hit Mia, I quickly stepped in to shield her, gripping the woman’s wrist firmly, my expression fierce. Mia, who had braced for impact, opened her eyes to find me protecting her.

"Aisha..." she whispered, surprised.

I continued to glare at Beatrice, who looked taken aback, as though it was the first time someone had stood up to her.

"Who are you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, irritation creeping into her voice. I tightened my grip on her wrist. "That’s not your concern, but let me make this clear: if you mess with my friend, you’ll have to deal with me first," I replied, my tone resolute.

Beatrice smirked in annoyance and shrugged off my grip. "You’re quite confident; don’t you know who I am?" she said with a smug demeanor. I could hear whispers among the onlookers, but I chose to focus on the confrontation.

"I don't care who you are, and frankly, I have no interest in getting to know someone as cruel as you. Displaying this behavior on the first day—did your parents not teach you better?" I shot back, my words striking her ego and leaving her momentarily speechless.

Gasps of shock rippled through the crowd, including Mia. "Aisha, please stop... You shouldn’t provoke her," she urged from behind me, but I gestured for her to let it be. Recognizing my signal, she fell silent.

"How dare you—" Beatrice started, but her words were interrupted by the arrival of the Dean.

"What’s going on here?" the Dean inquired, raising an eyebrow. Beatrice quickly plastered on a false smile, trying to present herself as a model student. "Nothing, Miss Percy. We were just chatting," she replied sweetly. The Dean regarded her suspiciously, but ultimately said, "Alright. Now return to your rooms," in a firm tone.

The students hastily complied and headed back to their rooms. Beatrice rolled her eyes, but when her gaze fell on me, it turned icy. "You’re going to regret this," she promised before leaving.

As Mia and I walked away, she recounted what had just transpired, complimenting me but also cautioning me to be careful.

"That woman is the owner’s daughter. Her father is a descendant of the original family that established this university. She’ll definitely try to ruin your life; she has all the power," Mia warned, and I felt a twinge of anxiety but stood firm.

"I understand, Mia. But I can’t just sit back and watch her treat others poorly, especially after you apologized and took responsibility. Her behavior was simply disrespectful, and I won’t accept it," I sighed, speaking from the heart.

Yet deep down, I knew my time here was bound to be a wild ride.