Disclaimer: Twilight does not belong to me. The names used are not that of real people, that I know of, and are based off of no one in particular. Copyright infringement is not intended.
A/N: Information on Boston Latin is taken from Wikipedia, sorry.
Summary: Isaliah-Danton Academy is only for the Elite – except for one scholarship student a year… if they can survive. She isn't about to let this girl burn, though; not a chance. Isabella Swan has real potential. AU, All Human.
Burn or Fly
***
I came in from Boston Latin. No one ever knew that I was dirt poor back then, and they never would. I had entered in seventh grade, and like everyone else had gotten in on my grades. Sure, most of the kids there were rich, but they didn't take those without talent and I was damn proud to be considered one of them. I was an overachiever, going far above and beyond the reading list each year. I did my best with the looks I had though they weren't much, but I didn't date. In the small, incomprehensible minds of the males, being unavailable somehow made me wanted. I was, and still am, exceedingly vain, but I think it was my ability to cut straight through bullshit that really got me the acting job. I was no model, but I had attitude, and I still do. It was hard juggling my work in Boston Latin around film shoots, but they knew that my education was going to come first, even if acting was all I'd ever wanted to do with my life.
Isaliah-Danton Academy was much easier. Not only was it flexible enough that she could cut out in the middle of the day for a shoot as long as she signed out and had all her work done, but if she'd really wanted to she could have flunked-out all of her classes and things would have been "adjusted". Her mother was, after all, a very skilled donator – including blowjobs. Victoria Cranston had been born to money before her first husband had blown it all away, and she would do anything for her daughter's success.
"It's not who ya know, it's who ya blow," as Victoria was fond of saying.
I was fine with that. We had a far more open relationship than most mothers and daughters, more friends than anything. We used each other, but we were honest about it; family helped you climb up that ladder, and you could ride off their coattails if you fell down the ladder later. Money first, friends second, love third. Friends before guys and always remember who held you up and who you stepped on. As I said in the beginning, though, I transferred in from Boston Latin and was poor when I went there. It was the acting, which came later, that brought me money, so I knew what it was like to live at the bottom. I knew raw potential when I saw it.
This girl needed help, seemed intelligent, and by God was going to be my project; I was not going to let her be like that scholarship student from last year.
"Vaidryn Cranston."
"Bella Swan," she said with a hesitant smile. She obviously expected a put-down like the uneducated dogs and brainless girls liked to give out. There were too many people living off of Daddy's money in a place like this, who would crash and burn in useless, drug-filled existences later – if they hadn't already. Boston Latin was dog-eat-dog both in the social scene and academically; half of these fuckwits wouldn't survive a day there.
I nodded to myself as I saw her book. A sophomore reading Machiavelli? Oh, this one was a keeper, definitely.
"I'll give it to ya straight: You're going to suicide off the shores of Social Elite if you don't let me help you. I don't want to see that again. So for now you're my pet project; we can work on the friends part later."
"I – uh –" she stuttered.
"I'll take that as a yes," I said simply, linking my arm through hers. People stared as I navigated us through the halls, but tough shit.
"Anita Wentworth – coke addict. Don't bother. Samuel Cross – swim, track and man-whore awards. Mike Newton the Third – don't feel bad about kicking the puppy, he's a fucking horndog. Angela Weber – too nice for her own good, but plays it smart; you'll like her. Lauren Mallory – wannabe – and her hanger-on Jessica. They spew out toxic waste from three holes; piss, shit and words."
Bella tried to hold in a laugh. I told her not to bother.
"Okay, now who's who you'll need to know. Rosalie Hale and Emmett McCarty; they are Head Cheerleader and Quarterback, future Prom King and Queen, and actually very nice under the stupid and airhead facades. Never believe them just pretty faces.
"Jasper Whitlock, Rosalie's cousin. He's cool because he just doesn't give a fuck. We're off and on, but don't worry if you want him; I'm cool with that.
"Alice Brandon, Jasper's unrequited love interest. Throws the best parties, does the best makeovers next to Rosalie, and is the best damn designer I have ever met. I'd know; I don't wear anything not custom. Really nice, easy to get along with, energetic.
"Edward Cullen – gorgeous and he knows it. Plays the part of the player but never goes all the way, despite the rumors. Straight-A student; well, all of them are.
"Then there's me. You've probably seen me in movies these fucktards are too simple to watch. I may fuck Jasper, but I don't date; none of these pissants are good enough. I'm a rate-A Bitch and I know it, and I love only myself. I don't tease, I don't play the game, and what few times I do play the game I win, hands down. If I want it I've got it. Are you any good a poker?" The quick subject change was startling for Bella.
"Um, not bad at it. Why?"
She fuckin' loved this girl. Bella was definitely the hustler type. No way was she only "not bad". Under that "innocence" were dreams of corruption.
"Perfect. I'll take you to the game with me next Saturday. But first, your room. You're definitely moving in with me; I love you already."
"But –"
"Sweetie, I've got a private room with an extra bed I never use. If you stay in those crap-ass dorms after meeting me you'll be a no-hopper. And new clothes; I'll definitely have to introduce you to Alice, not that I wouldn't have anyway."
"But I can't –"
"Afford it?" Vaidryn interrupted. Bella blushed, nodding hesitantly. "Let me tell you a secret honey;" she whispered, "I used to be you. I couldn't afford fucking Macy's."
Bella's eyes were wide.
"What –?"
"As I said, you're my pet project now, but we'll get to being friends. Now, about Damian LaTourneau…"
And that was how it started.
***