Madness. Absolute madness.
I came here three months into the school year, and judging by the looks on the faces of the staff members, all hope had been abandoned for this place and its inhabitants. I had heard things about this school long before I was even sent here. Things were going down the proverbial toilet—and the literal one as well, as I caught sight of a student's head being dunked into what I hoped for their sake was clean water—and I was reluctant to take part in its downfall in any way, shape or form. I made that very clear to my mother and father, but my protest was ignored, and I was carted off in a cab and dropped off at Bullworth's doorstep.
The school seemed eager to take in another pissed off teen with Daddy issues, and I was sure to fit in with the rest of the lot that occupied this infamous school.
So I entered the cafeteria, a stack of new textbooks in hand, and nearly begged Ms. Danvers not to leave me at the foot of the stairs, alone, as fights ensued in just about every inch of the room. The old hag took off, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she ran away from the room. An apple flew past my head and I shrieked, ducking behind the wall to hide on the stairs, peeking out every so often to see if things had died down, but with no such luck.
It was somewhat horrifying, how violent they were, like rabid animals escaped from their cages. I had seen more than my fair share of fights, even participated in a few myself, but never have I seen this many, this much concentrated violence, and with no consequence at that. No teachers were rushing through the halls to break them up, the school's security guards' attempts were reaching the point of futility, and all I wanted to do was leave. Already.
And not go back to my dorm, but home. Back to Pennsylvania where I sort of belonged, with my loser friends, where nothing ever happened. I had never thought I'd long for monotony, but this was insane. Less than two hours here and I was sick of the place, and I knew I couldn't go back home. I couldn't call my parents and tell them the people here were out of their minds, that this was a mistake and I forgave them for sending their only child some place so horrible. No. All I could do was walk away and hide in my room for the remainder of the day. Good enough.
"Look at these monkey's," A voice said from beside me, and I gasped for the second time today, my hand planted firmly over my heart to keep it from beating out of my chest. "So eager to beat the crap out of each other."
I glanced over toward the boy. He had a prideful glint in his eyes as he looked on, the faintest of smiles curving his lips. "They never change."
"Of course they don't. Change requires effort," I mumbled, wiping a discolored glob of something off the sleeve of my shirt. Fearing it would stain, I headed back up the stairs and toward the bathrooms, hoping to get most of the crud off before I ruined the dress shirt my mother made abundantly clear she had spent a lot of money on.
A grunt was the only response he made, and I took that as the end of our very brief conversation which I could not have possibly been more relieved for as I wasn't particularly in the mood for communicating with anyone, much less this scarred boy who seemed up to no good even though he wasn't actually doing anything. He had a mischievous air about him, and I warned myself to steer clear of him, of anyone else like that. It was far too easy for me to get sucked in to the trouble maker's crowd and I wasn't about to screw up the good reputation I worked hard at attaining my sophomore year.
I soaked a wad of paper towels under the faucet and pumped a considerable amount of soap onto the mound of grey paper. It smelled of perfume, and not the good kind either. Cheap old lady perfume that was too strong for my taste. It would have to do for now, at least until I could throw my shirt into the wash.
The bell rang as I entered the hall, disappearing into the sea of students that filed out of their classrooms, and I pulled the schedule out from my folder, searching for the class I was to attend, hoping for it to be something that would pique my interest enough to keep me from skipping, but who was I kidding? Almost everyone here seemed old and uptight and there was no way in hell that I could imagine any of them making classes the least bit enjoyable.
Art. I sighed. It couldn't be that bad, could it?
If I remembered correctly, the class was on the second floor, and according to the clock on the wall at the end of the corridor, I had about two minutes to get there.
I never had the chance to find out whether or not it would have actually been a good class, for the moment I reached the stair case in front of the main office, the speakers crackled and Ms. Danvers' voice flooded the halls. Movement came to a slow stop as we all paused to listen to what the secretary had to say.
There was an assembly we were all to attend, and if the sharpness of her words were anything to go by, the woman was not happy. At all. I surmised it had something to do with the free-for-all in the cafeteria that I luckily escaped, and I followed the mass of uniformed mongrels to the auditorium, eventually finding myself face to face—well, shoulder to shoulder, really—with the scarred boy again. He seemed to take notice of me, the only indication of his acknowledgment of my being there a slight nod of his head.
A prefect stood against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, a heated glare directed at the boy next to me. He smiled at the guard, earning a deep scowl in return.
I was jostled around the center aisle as the students scrambled to find seats next to their friends, and I let them cut ahead of me; it didn't matter. There was no one for me to sit with. I didn't know anyone, and I didn't care. I was just happy I didn't have to go to class.
The principal approached the podium, his posture straight and stiff. Even from my spot in the back of the room I could see the angry lines framing his lips, between his eyes, only deepening when the students failed to quiet the moment he crossed the stage. Some cheered, others booed. I sank deeper into my seat.
"I am very disappointed with you all today," He started, staring out into the crowd. Crabblesnitch remained quiet for a moment as if to let his words sink in and fill our adolescent minds with guilt. "It took the entire Bullworth PD to put an end to your fighting, and not without several officers being struck. I cannot fathom what would drive you all to act like such animals. After the incident two years ago, I thought we had made progress. It seems otherwise, and I am not happy about that."
A few disembodied whatever's floated through the crowd, earning an aggravated huff from the dean, and a chuckle from the student beside me. No one was taking this man seriously, and Crabblesnitch knew this. I know, because he said it at least five times, expressing his dissatisfaction with that very fact, and proposed something that was sure to get his unruly students back in line.
"All privileges are suspended. No student is allowed to leave campus, no matter their age, or their social status," He said sternly. "If I have to treat you all like children, I will, and like a parent takes away their children's toys when they behave badly, I will take away what you hold dear: your ability to leave. I'll have you all confined to school grounds until you learn to keep your noses clean."
The atmosphere had certainly changed. The student body had gone from apathetic to hateful in a split second, and you could feel it. It was stifling, and I felt like with one more provocation, it would take more than Bullworth's police department to end what chaos would be sure to unfold.
"Go back to your dorms. Classes are canceled for the rest of today, and if I hear that any of you are giving our dear staff trouble, I will not hesitate to have you suspended," Crabblesnitch bellowed into the microphone. He was laying down the law, and making this all the more serious. "You're dismissed."
"Hey, new kid!"
I paused at the sound of the familiar voice and looked around. I found him standing off to the side near the soda machine by the front doors, an unopened can of soda gripped in his hands. I cut through the dwindling mob of teens and stood before him.
"Yeah?"
"First day here and already you're on lock down. How's that feel?" He questioned, his dark eyes sizing me up.
I shrugged. "It's not like I'm the only one stuck here. Besides, I don't really care."
"Oh, you don't?"
"Nope," I answered, turning and walking down the stairs after catching the sight of a rather muscular and pissed off looking prefect.
"And why's that?"
"What's it matter to you?" I asked, glancing his way while we made the short trek to the dorms. My words came out harsher than intended, even though it wasn't that nice a response to begin with, but I hadn't wanted to sound that bitchy. I shook my head. "I didn't want to come here, so it doesn't matter that I can't traipse about town when I please."
He rolled his eyes. "That's the attitude of just about every idiot here. No one willingly comes to this school."
Why would they? I thought. So far, this school has lived up to its reputation.
"So, does the new kid have a name?" He asked, sounding disinterested.
"She does. My name's Erin."
"I'm Gary."
We reached the small square between the boy's and girl's dorms and stopped, turning to face each other.
"Gary. Nice to meet you. Tell me, why have I bumped into you so many times today?"
"A guy can't take interest in a new student?"
"No. I've come to learn nothing's ever that simple."
Gary quirked a brow. "I don't have very many friends here anymore. You're new. I take what I can get."
"Well, gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel special," I scoffed.
"That wasn't my goal anyway."
"What a charmer. I can see why you don't have any friends."
"You haven't been all that pleasant, either," He said. "With your demeanor you'll be just as alone as I am."
"After today, I think I'll be okay with that."
Gary laughed. "You say that now, but you're going to need a friend eventually."
"Are you suggesting that we be friends?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. Merely stating a fact."
"Right. I'll see you around, Gary," I said over my shoulder. "But hopefully not too soon."
I was living with a behemoth of a tyrant.
For someone so fat, so unappealing to the eye, you would think the girl would try to make up for it with some semblance of a decent personality. But Eunice was a bitch. A big, fat, entitled bitch. She was quick to designate the areas of the room I was allowed in, what books I could read of hers—most of them I noted were cheap romances you could find on the shelves in a supermarket, I only knew that because my grandmother had a vast collection of them—and the girl I made damn sure I didn't touch her stash of chocolates. Eunice mumbled something about low blood sugar, but I figured that was a lie, and I didn't care either way, but made a mental note to trash the shit should she piss me off.
My other roommate was much less abrasive, quite the opposite actually, for which I was thankful, and took it upon herself to sprawl out on the end of my bed. She eyed me silently while I unpacked my suitcase that had been set on the bed along with a small stack of uniform shirts, mostly sweaters and polos, and I tucked my luggage underneath the bed.
"I think I recognize you," The girl said finally, chewing her bottom lip and wagging a manicured finger in my direction. "Yeah...I saw you in a magazine once. You're that plastic surgeon guy's daughter!" She nearly squealed upon her realization and excitedly pushed herself off the bed and onto her feet.
Dr. Peter Kastner, plastic surgeon to the stars, and bastard father extraordinaire. He wasn't really a bastard. My father was quite a nice guy, actually. I only called him once because he wouldn't let me live with him, insisting that I was better off with my mother and her husband in our middle-of-nowhere town, and that LA was no place for a kid like me, no matter how much I begged.
He hoped to make up for it by sending me here.
I think I know who's up for a Father of the Year Award nomination.
"Oh, I must have shown my Daddy that article about a hundred times," She babbled on. "I remember being so jealous of you, having a dad like that. He must be wonderful. Have you ever gotten any work done? I wish I could."
"Uh, no, I haven't had—"
She ignored me and continued speaking as if I hadn't said anything. "Oh, the other Preps are going to love you, we've always wanted someone who had connections with a surgeon."
"Preps?" I asked, sitting down on the bed. I kicked my sneakers off and crossed my legs.
"Yeah. The Preps. We're the wealthy, upper class students here at Bullworth."
"Okay, but you actually call yourself that?" I asked, a small chuckle escaping my lips. "What other little gangs do you have here?"
"We're not a gang, just a group of people of a better class. And we've got a few cliques. The Nerds, Jocks, Bullies, and the Greasers," She added with a hint of disdain in her tone.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Really? The Greasers? Jeez, I wasn't aware we were in the 50s still. But alright, I guess."
"We don't take them very seriously either. They're all dirt poor jerks."
"And I'm guessing I should stay away from these horrible poor people."
She shrugged. "Most of us do, but I have to admit... I find poor people very...interesting," She waggled her brows suggestively. "But don't tell anyone I said that. Derby would have a fit if he found out."
"You have my word," I gave a mock salute.
She smiled. "My name is Pinky, by the way."
"Erin," I reached over and shook her outstretched hand.
"Erin, what do you say we leave this oaf to herself and visit Harrington House?" Over her shoulder I spotted Eunice perched on the edge of the bed glowering at the back of Pinky's head.
I didn't have time to decline, to do anything, because her hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked me out of the bed and into the hall. Pinky yammered on about how the prefects wouldn't bother us if we left the dorms—the perks of having money, she explained—and we set off for our destination which was halfway across campus, and riddled with haughty teens, some of them sporting obviously fake British accents.
Pinky presented me to her lot of friends and they crowded around me, a spectacle to be poked and prodded at, questioned to the nth degree and warily accepted into their fold upon learning I came from a rather wealthy background. They openly expressed their doubt of my financial status. Apparently I hadn't looked the part, there was no way someone who looked like me could be anything above middle class.
After the tenth comment about my looks, I'd had enough.
"I'm sorry, really, that my appearance doesn't scream Rich Douchebag, but I assure you, I'm just as wealthy as the rest of you. I chose to live modestly, and if that's an issue, I'm sure there's better people for me to surround myself with," I fumed and took a step back from Pinky and her sweater vest clad friends.
Pinky swatted at the head of a boy and he cringed. "See what you guys did! Now she hates us."
I sighed and listened to Pinky mumble something unintelligible to the boys surrounding her, and after a moment of watching their faces fall and scrunch up in frustration, a smaller boy of about my height stepped forward and cleared his throat. The words were reluctant to leave his lips, and I sensed what he was going to say, and that he wasn't the type to normally say it, but who could refuse when you had a girl standing behind you ready to bitch slap you every time you made the wrong move.
"Erin, is it?" I nodded. "Yes, well, Erin, I apologize for the comments my friends and I made. It was rude, I admit, and I hope you'll be nice enough to allow us a second chance."
Every part of me wanted to say 'Nope, screw you rich kids, I'm outta here,' but Pinky's heartbroken expression made it hard to force the words out, and I groaned loudly and accepted their apology.
"Oh, fantastic!" Pinky cried. "It's going to be so great having a girl here. The closest thing I have to one is Gord, and he can be quite cranky sometimes."
"Hey!" Gord whined and shot a glare at her.
Pinky winked at me. "See what I mean?"
I couldn't help but smile. Pinky didn't seem so bad, and after spending some time with her and her friends—and getting over how snobby they could be, whether intentional or not—it seemed as though I could have a fairly decent group of friends.
It might not be so hellish after all, and I guessed Gary was right; I was going to need friends. I didn't know what I would do if I was alone and stuck in my dorm with Eunice. That nightmare of a human being shouldn't be endured alone.