Chapter 1

The first thing Kate Sharma learned about Anthony Bridgerton upon entering Grosvenor Preparatory School as a freshman was that his mom had to be super, super Catholic. Or Mormon. Or something else. Who knew. After all, what could possibly be another explanation as to why Anthony Bridgerton was one of eight siblings?

Eight siblings, named alphabetically either for convenience's sake, or because it was an inside joke taken too far- nobody was sure about that either.

Eight children in this day and age… Kate shuddered to think of all the work that required. You had to be either crazy rich or just plain crazy to pull it off.

That lead to the second thing Kate learned about Anthony Bridgerton: His family was crazy rich. They were so old-money, their fortune, according to Wikipedia, predated the American Revolution, and they'd practically intermarried among all the other old families in New York.

But Anthony Bridgerton was surprisingly classy about that though- the only overt signs of wealth he displayed on a daily basis was the humongous Range Rover that dropped off the Bridgerton brood every morning, and the vintage Patek that perpetually graced his wrist (not that Kate noticed).

The third thing Kate Sharma learned about Anthony Bridgerton was that she despised him.

It began their freshman year. Kate was one of the new scholarship students, while Anthony had gone to Grosvenor's lower school since kindergarten. Kate had entered high school with the intention to dominate- okay, maybe it was a lofty goal, but hey, she'd gotten a scholarship to a prestigious school like Grosvenor for a reason- and she wasn't going to let any entitled rich kid mess up her chances at getting into Georgetown with as much money as they could humanly offer her.

Unfortunately, she didn't see the smirk-in-human-form that was Anthony Bridgerton coming her way. After all she had heard about him, she'd expected him to consider studies to be the least of his priorities, like most of his annoying friends- or brothers.

But no, Anthony Bridgerton was smart. Irritatingly so.

They'd competed for every freshman accolade one could get, and Kate thought she was putting up a rather good fight, at least, until class rankings came after the first semester.

Kate looked at the "Rank: 2" on her report card, horrified, before racing out of Algebra II as the bell rang.

And exiting the class next to hers was one Anthony Bridgerton.

Kate staggered forward, her an accusing finger pointed towards him. "You!" she cried when Anthony turned.

Okay, so Kate could have been more composed about it, but quite frankly, she was tired. She was fifteen-year-old with a fully developed caffeine habit thanks to late-nights spent guzzling black coffee and studying AP Chem notes, so she was exhausted and more than a little ticked off.

At the age of fifteen, while most other boys were hot messes in the middle of growth spurts, Anthony Bridgerton always managed to look put together, and worse, more than a little attractive, if one was into the whole smug, "I'm American royalty and know it" sort of deal. Even his uniform was distressingly well-fitting and always perfectly-pressed, probably thanks to that Catholic/Mormon mother of his.

Anyway.

"Sharma," Anthony acknowledged, noting her clearly-frazzled state. "What's up with you?"

"How did you rank higher than me this semester?" Kate hissed, waving her report card in his face.

Anthony raised a brow. "How do you know I was the one who ranked higher than you?"

"Who else could it be?" she snapped back before immediately realizing her mistake.

"Kate Sharma," Anthony began with slow, sharp smile, "are you admitting that I am, in fact, your intellectual superior?"

"Yeah right," Kate scoffed. "You'll be my superior anything the day pigs fly." She then snapped back to the issue at hand. "What I want to know is, what did you do?" she pressed.

"Extra credit," Anthony replied, deliberately being obtuse just to incense Kate further.

"We're in all the same classes and I wrote, like, three extra-credit papers, and I know for a fact you didn't do Winslow's extra credit," she rattled out.

"I got Agatha Danbury to give seniors a talk on mass media in developing countries."

Kate's eyes widened "How...?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I know her."

"You know the Lady Danbury?" Kate shrieked, feeling more than a little envy, but mostly just rage. Lady Agatha Danbury (the 'Lady' deriving from a long-divorced husband who was a minor English noble) was the first Black woman to run a global mass media company before selling it off, making billions, and devoting her time to charity and campaigning for various progressive candidates. She was one of Kate's icons, and quite frankly, Kate would have killed to see that talk.

At this, Anthony full-on smirked. "She's my godmother."

What?!

Kate gasped, incensed. This wasn't just cheating- Anthony-freaking-Bridgerton was using connections to get the grade! This was ridiculous! This was a step short of nepotism! This was-

She snarled, "You elitist piece of-"

"-Careful there, Sharma," Anthony cut her off smoothly, nodding to a passing hall monitor. "You could get a demerit, and you don't want to mess up that pristine record of yours, do you?"

And with that, he carelessly ran his fingers through his messy, brown hair, threw her yet another smirk, and pranced away.

Oh yes, Kate had thought as she watched his retreating figure. She absolutely despised Anthony Bridgerton.

Welcome abroad the Hot Mess Express.

Apologies to Dylan Thomas for royally butchering the title of his poem.

Let me know what y'all think!