Andrea James lived in Westminster. And no, she wasn't posh, or rich. She was reminded of that fact every day.
She lived in a small rented house with her single dad. Her mother had died in childbirth. There wasn't much money, but they did alright. Her dad was working the way up the ladder in the factory he was working at, forever telling her about another promotion he had.
In the typical snotty rich Westminster girl fashion, she attended an expensive private school. But that was only because she was intelligent and determined enough to work for a scholarship there, even as a child.
It was horrible at school. The girls didn't like her - her clothes were too cheap and tatty, her fashion choices were too alternative, she didn't have an affected, snotty accent. She was everything that they despised, and they took pleasure in abusing her. Verbally, of course. Andrea was the best fighter in the school. She could break their necks easily. Not that she ever thought about that…
Even the teachers hated her. She was smarter than most of the class but they were very much like the students and she rarely got good feedback from teachers.
When she turned ten, the head teacher told her father she would need to take another scholarship exam for entrance into the secondary school. She failed it. And she felt like the world had come to an end. How was she going to earn loads of money and look after herself and her dad now?
But an opportunity arose, as it often did. Her father got her into St Trinians. And it was awesome.