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I don’t know if I’m too tired for Arabella’s big political speech or what. I haven’t even been here an hour and already it’s letting me down?
I suppose, food-wise, it really is. If it weren’t for Freya’s seemingly endless supply of tablet, I would have had to start eating my own snacks from home, and a stupid part of me considers them sacrosanct. Too good to eat, too familiar, too much like home. And how sad would it be to eat my own candy on the first day? It’s an emergency supply if I’m ever in a homesick funk.
Also, the Head Boy called me aprecious snowflake bitchfor no reason, and thinking about food is better than thinking about that.
Becca makes a face. “Look, evenIsaid I’d be down for whatever. Any girl in her right mind would be.”
“And we don’t know if our American friend hereisin her right mind. There are a lot of cultural factors to consider.”
I always knew, coming here as an international student, that I’d be treated somewhat like an animal at the zoo.Our American friend. I just didn’t realize it’d happen so soon. Arabella seems to know the right way to push all my buttons.
“How exactly is the school letting us down?” I venture.
I feel like there’d be scandalized gasps if Arabella didn’t answer me so quickly. “How is itnot? For centuries, this has been a male-only institution. Boys as young as four board at Glenbroath then move onto Lochkelvin for secondary education. That’sthirteen yearsof unchecked privilege and indoctrination. This building is a hotbed of toxic masculinity and deeply problematic viewpoints, and as the school’s inaugural selection of female students, we need to stick together and call out any bullshit.”
Stick together and call out bullshit. That seems simple enough, but I’m kind of amazed by Arabella’s blazing distrust of the other students here. Sure,Mr. Munrowas a dick, but he’s only one person with a weirdly shaped stick up his ass. I’m sure the other boys here are more normal.
Right?
Perhaps unwisely, I point out, “They’re just boys.” Sure, it’s a bit weird they’ve never been around anyone other than themselves, but how different can they be from the old Greenvale boys? Sport, showing off, and sex. It’s a universal thing with boys, right?
But Arabella’s already shaking her head in dismay. “They’rebastards. Ever since my aunt took over last year, they’ve made her life a living hell. They think they’re all so much better than us because they’re boys. Never mind that we’re just as smart and rich and gifted as they are—”
My mind stops for a moment, tripping over each of these words.
“—if notmoreso! We have two years of living alongside these male-privileged arseholes. So we have a duty to ourselves and the future girls who’ll attend Lochkelvin: we need to strike first to bring these boys in line.”
My mind starts whirring again. Wait, what? “You just said we should stick together—”
But my voice is lost among the girls’ sudden cheers. Arabella’s a strong and passionate speaker but I’m uneasy about the direction this is heading.Striking firstis a lot different fromsticking together.
I don’t want to make trouble. I don’t have the privilege of rich parents like these girls seemingly do. All I wanted was to study here in peace, quietly adding something impressive to my future resume. In my statement for the Lochkelvin scholarship, I wrote about captaining the debate society at Greenvale. I wrote about my dreams of equality and my hopes of making it a reality in the future, citing Wollstonecraft and Beauvoir as inspirations. I’d documented the national awards I’d won for my political essays. As a joke, I’d written about how I’d love to work as an activist, or, failing that, become President.
But I wrote that statement a long time ago now. At least, that’s what it feels like.
My old school no longer exists.
I can’t remember the last time I debated anything.
And me being some kind of leader? Dream on.
Arabella looks mighty as she stands in my bedroom, nodding at the others cheering as if it’s her right to it. Her eyes narrow when she notices I haven’t joined in.
The cheers peter out.
“Shouldn’t we try to be friendly with them?” I suggest. Beside me, Becca sucks in a breath. “I’m just saying, if they consider Lochkelvin to be their territory, then maybe we should get them to trust us instead of declaring all-out war.” But while Freya looks intrigued by this, Arabella is still scowling in my direction. “They’re not special, even if they are rich and gifted or whatever. They’re still justboys.”
“Notspecial?” Arabella shrieks. “Do you evenknowwho we’re dealing with?”
Lost, I shake my head. Li bites her lip like she’s trying to contain her laughter.
“These are the sons of the richest people in the country and beyond. The most powerful people, the kind of kids who get everything handed to them on a silver platter because of who their parents are.”
I stare at Arabella, niece of the headmistress, and frown. It all seems a bit hypocritical from her.
“Okay, shock me.Whoare we dealing with exactly?”
It’s like a back and forth, with Becca, Freya and Li watching us avidly. For some reason, just being around Arabella causes a flicker of my old fighting spirit to return.
