It had been such an exciting day, and the eight-year-old boy skipping along the road couldn't even consider the chance that it could get any better. His mother was walking slowly behind him, too tired from a day of shopping to keep up with her hyperactive child. She was speaking to the boy's father on her phone, every so often calling out to keep him from straying too far.

But the boy hardly paid his mother any mind; after all, there were dozens of shops lined in front of him, and to a child that is much more interesting. He darted ahead, eyeing a toy store's tempting window when he smelled something heavenly.

Forgetting about his mother entirely, the small boy raced ahead to the store where he'd smelled that aroma: a high-class, beautifully decorated bakery. Even at such a tender age, the child knew this bakery chain, as everyone in town bought from here. Besides, it was where his mother bought cake on special occasions, and who didn't enjoy cake?

Disregarding the consequences and completely entranced by the sheer grandeur of the place, the young boy stepped inside. Immediately overcome with the smell, he stopped and stared with wide, enraptured eyes at the choices before him. Not only cake, but pies, breads, cookies, pastries, muffins, scones, brownies, and so much more.

He moved to touch an ornate display with a perfectly decorated platter of cookies inside when he heard a gentle laugh behind the counter.

The child immediately snatched his hand away in fear of being reprimanded. He backed away guiltily.

But the tall man wearing a chef hat behind the counter was smiling, and his twinkling brown eyes and amicable grin was enough to put any child's mind at ease. Immediately the boy shuffled over, curious as to what this magical place had in store.

The man was kneading dough to make bread. He smiled as the boy drew nearer. "Hello, lad. Are you by yourself?"

"My mum's coming," the boy murmured, turning slightly pink as he realized he'd left his parent behind. He was about to go find her when the baker continued in a warm tone.

"Well, that's good. What brings you to my bakery?"

The boy shifted from foot to foot. "...the smell."

Instead of looking at him oddly like he'd expected, the friendly man laughed in agreement. "It does smell good in here, doesn't it? That's what I like about bakeries. They make people feel good."

The boy nodded eagerly, sensing a kindred spirit. "I like making people feel happy!"

"Well, then why don't you open your own bakery someday?" the man winked, his eyes alight. "That's the purpose of sweet food. To make others happy. But a bakery's more than food, of course."

The boy tilted his head, confused. "How?"

"Well, if you want a real bakery, it's gotta have a welcoming, happy atmosphere," the man explained. "A bakery is a place to give people a moment of sweetness in their busy lives. At least, that's my policy. Besides, there's nothing better than seeing people enjoy your food."

Just at that moment, the boy's mother hurried inside, slightly frazzled. "There you are! I told you not to run ahead! I'm sorry if he's been bothering you, sir."

"Of course not. We were just talking about bakeries," the man told her, and she seemed to relax slightly.

The boy tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mum, I want my own bakery!"

"Well, honey, we'll see," she told him, starting to walk out. The boy jogged to catch up, when the man spoke again.

"Hope to see you two around here again. It was nice to meet you, little man," he chuckled.

The boy turned around, beaming, feeling as though he'd made a new friend. "My name is Phil!"

The man smiled. "Good luck with your bakery, Phil."

Phil Lester sat outside the gates, jiggling his leg up and down erratically. His stomach was folding into knots and he wondered if he'd pass out.

Teenagers his age walked by into the open gates, chatting and smiling. These were all highly skilled teens, who were all great at baking and had to pass a series of extremely difficult tests to gain access to this prestigious culinary school.

The same school Phil was currently trying to enter.

The problem? Money. Money was always the problem. He was supposed to meet with the financial department in thirty minutes to discuss whether or not he'd received the scholarship he'd applied for. He was up against some extremely talented peers; not to mention the fact that if he didn't receive the scholarship it was unlikely he'd attend the school of his dreams.

Grandview Academy. Phil had dreamt of this place for years. A place where aspiring chefs around the world could meet and compete for a chance to make their skills known to everyone. If he could graduate from here, surely, surely he could open his own bakery with some success.

Phil stood, brushing lint off of his best clothes, a blue button-up and black dress pants. Running his fingers nervously through his messy hair, he stepped through the gates of Grandview Academy.

As he walked, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Not only were these teens skilled, they were also very, very rich. This place was obviously expensive to attend. Phil gawked openly at the shining marble staircases and velvet draperies over windows. The place had fountains everywhere and flower gardens pristinely manicured. The place oozed luxury, something Phil was not very used to.

He shouldered his bag. Despite his tall height, standing already at 6'2" at only eighteen, people didn't pay him too much attention. It was move-in week, and people were more focused on filling the dormitories than random boys walking around.

It also helped that a crowd of people were gathered around a car pulling up to the gates. Phil paused to look, his curiosity too much to ignore. A bodyguard alighted from the vehicle and opened the door for a boy Phil's age. He wore sunglasses and had brown hair, but that's all Phil could see over the mob of people. It was like paparazzi. This guy must've been a big deal.

Phil shook his head and kept going. It really shouldn't be a surprise; after all, very wealthy families sent their children here. Some were the children of famous people. Everyone could be a little starstruck.

He found his way to the finance department and after checking in, sat down to wait. He felt calmer here, because it was mostly empty and quiet. Not many of those rich kids outside needed to even know this department existed.

A twinge of jealousy stung Phil's chest. None of those rich kids had ever had a part-time job, much less three, and from the age of ten. It started with delivering papers, cleaning houses, and moving up from there. All for the sole purpose of entering this school. His fate rested with this meeting.

When the lady called Phil into her office, she got straight to the point. "Mr. Lester, we've never seen a student quite like you before."

He flushed, but before he could reply, she continued. "We'd be honored to have you study here at Grandview. We're offering you a full scholarship."

Phil's mouth hung open. You could've knocked him over with a feather. "What?"

"A full scholarship," she repeated, pulling out a file. "Your written test results were extraordinary. Full marks. Not to mention the practical exam. Your cupcakes were the highlight of the judge's meal. You're a prodigy, the finest we've had since Richard Howell, if I may say."

"Howell? As in, Howell's Delights bakery Howell?" Phil squeaked.

"The one and the same. I believe Chef Howell's son is enrolling this year, as well." The lady peered at him. "Do you need some water, Mr. Lester?"

"No-no, I'm fine," Phil replied, willing himself to breathe. "So a full scholarship?"

"Yes. We can work out details and paperwork later, but for now, I suggest moving in," she told him. "You should have received your living quarters instructions in the mail."

"I did-I've got them."

"Excellent. I wish you a successful time here at Grandview Academy, Mr. Lester."

Phil thanked her and left, still feeling like all the air had been vacuumed out of his lungs. Wordlessly, he pulled out his cell phone to call his mother. "Mum," he croaked. "I've got a full scholarship."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dan's brows knit together in annoyance as he surveyed the academy. It was pretty difficult to see, however, over the crowd of people that had gathered around the gates to welcome him.

His bodyguard moved people back, and Dan could hear his bags being taken care of by attendants. Flicking his eyes around he waved carelessly at his peers, wondering where his dorm was.

A flushed girl stood waiting for him outside the boys' dorm, her school uniform on despite the fact school didn't start for a few more days. "Daniel Howell?" she squawked, hurriedly shuffling the papers in front of her. "I'm the head of the school welcoming committee, and I'm here to show you to your dorm room. I-I'm-"

"Great," Dan replied shortly, motioning to his bodyguard, Drake. "We're over here, Drake. Room's in here."

Dan followed the flustered girl inside, and boys moving in stopped in their tracks to openly stare at him as he walked past. A twinge of annoyance kept growing in Dan's belly, but he did his best to stamp it down as the girl stopped. "H-here's your room, sir."

Sir? Dan didn't question it. He waited as Drake went in first, then followed. It was a typical academy dorm room for rich kids. Huge, draped beds, chests, desks, closets, and even two bathrooms. The window had linen curtains and a window seat. Dan nodded. A bit small, but it'll do.

Attendants began to file in, bringing Dan's luggage. "Your roommate hasn't arrived yet," the girl called into the room, her voice more high-pitched. "He'll probably arrive sometime today."

"Thanks," Dan dismissed her, and after leaning against the doorframe uncertainly for a few more moments, she left.

The attendants finished putting his things on one side of the room, and Dan dismissed them with a nod. Drake was the last to leave, reporting to Dan that his safety would be left up to the academy's security. Dan thanked him as he left.

After the door was closed, Dan flopped onto his bed. "This academy's got kids worth millions of dollars here," he muttered. "The security isn't what I'm worried about."

He rolled over and stared out the window. The girls' dorm was located across the courtyard. Girls and boys alike were milling around the courtyard, chatting. The crowd from his arrival had dispersed, no doubt headed around to deliver the news that he was here.

Dan smiled. He liked attention, but didn't care for personal attachments. So long as people admired him from afar, he was fine with that. After all, he didn't really care about this school, anyway. He was just here at his mother's request.

Baking? Why baking? He'd never had an interest in it. Of course, he'd never had to bake before, but how hard could it be? He hadn't even taken the entrance exams. Of course, he thought with a snort, most of those rich kids down there failed the exams. Money's the only way anyone gets into this school. Those tests are impossible.

The door opening caught his attention. A boy entered, with shaggy brown hair and mischievous eyes. "So, Pretty Boy's my roommate, huh?" was the only greeting Dan got as the boy's attendants started bringing some bags inside.

Dan stood. "I know, I'm irresistible."

The boy laughed, extending a hand. "Name's Chris Kendall. Of course, I already know your name."

Dan shook his hand, studying his new roommate. "Pleasure."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it is."

Dan couldn't help it-he cracked a smile. "For most people, it is."

Chris seemed to mull this over. "I'll come to my own conclusions, Pretty Boy. You caused quite the stir when you arrived. People were talking about you the minute I stepped on campus."

He spread his arms mockingly. "Of course. I'm Dan Howell, after all."

Chris tried to feign indifference, but Dan already knew-Chris had decided he liked him. Dan liked Chris, too. There was something brutally honest and natural about the guy.

Chris's attendants had left by this point, and he motioned to Dan's bags. "Haven't started unpacking yet?"

"What's the hurry?" Dan shrugged.

Chris walked over to the window and peered out. He made a face. "Did you know this school has a financial aid department?"

"Sounds more like a formality than anything else."

"Yeah, I guess. My mum made me apply for a scholarship, though. It's not like I need it, but whatever. I gotta find the department to see how that went."

Dan snorted. "They give out scholarships here?"

"Apparently."

Dan walked over to his bags, unzipping the first one. "Well, might as well start. I don't feel like finding a dining hall to go eat."

"Just make one of the workers bring you something," Chris suggested. "They do room service, you know."

Dan pulled the first thing out of his bag-a picture of his parents-and sighed. He felt like this was the start of a painful year at Grandview Academy.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Here's the first chapter! I'm really excited for this story and I hope you guys are, too!

Let me know what you think! You can also check out my blog, with more stories on it at /writerlester.

Bye now.