A cold lamp cast its light on my reflection in the mirror of the school restroom. I stood still, frozen like a statue, my palms pressed against the cold porcelain sink. I scanned the familiar lines of my face and figure, searching for anything attractive, but was there really anything beautiful in that plain appearance? When I looked at myself, the first things that stood out were the dark circles under my eyes, so sharply outlined against pale skin, a couple of red blemishes that weren't there last night, and, of course, those stubborn chestnut hairs.
"I feel absolutely disgusting," I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh and closing my eyes for a moment to look away from the unpleasant sight before me. All I wanted at that moment was to clench my fist and smash the glass mercilessly — the same glass that deceived me day after day, like all the other mirrors out there. This can't be me — this has to be some other girl! That's what I told myself, but once again, it didn't work.
"Aurora!.. I—I didn't realize you were already here."
A familiar voice pulled me out of my trance, making me slowly step back from the sink. My gaze, still as judging as before, shifted from my reflection to my classmate Lia: her stiff, wire-like red hair, a face covered in freckles like confetti, and that simple, wide smile. She stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as the new school day began. The sight brought a faint, mocking smile to my lips — at least one of us was in a good mood today.
"Yeah, I try to come early, you know... to freshen up before class starts."
I answered, giving a casual shrug to seem relaxed. My hand gripped the strap of my blue backpack as I headed for the door, joining Lia in the school corridor. The first lesson was about to start any minute now. I'd be lying if I said math was my favorite subject — I'd always leaned towards the humanities: literature, foreign languages, and everything that didn't involve numbers or an endless stream of formulas I could never remember. But now I was rushing down the crowded hallway like my life depended on it, with Lia eagerly following toward the classroom. If I'm late—there will definitely be trouble. The math teacher is the strictest one here. Sometimes when she fixes someone with her scorching stare, it feels like she could suck out their soul or swallow her unlucky victim whole, like a python.
Luck was with me — we walked into the classroom just a minute before the bell rang. At the start of the year, I had picked the best seat — an unremarkable desk at the back of the middle row, which made me invisible both to teachers and classmates. It was easier that way: no answering at the board, no remarks, no giving attention. My spot saved me from a lot of trouble, but some things couldn't be avoided — like today's test, which, it seemed, had been erased from my memory as something utterly irrelevant.
"Ha... Damn! I'm so not ready."
That was the first and only thing I said, staring at the paper with a sour expression, as if it were a slice of lemon daring me to bite into it whole. The older I got, the fewer numbers appeared in the problems. This time, what I saw looked more like a bunch of random symbols from a language I didn't know than a math problem. My despair was interrupted by a muffled giggle from the desk next to me. It was Lia, enjoying the show. No surprise — she finished her test in less than ten minutes. She got into this school because of her high grades, after all.
"Give me your notebook, I'll help you figure it out."
Lia whispered, leaning in with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and before I could say anything, she deftly grabbed my notebook from the desk. I didn't mind — I knew she'd handle it better than me. All I had to do was play along, putting on a thoughtful look while my scowl stayed fixed on my empty desk. One of the few things I was actually good at was convincing the math teacher that I understood the subject, that the formulas were inside my head and not just empty wind.
Only two months had passed since the school year began, and by now, we had pulled this trick more than once. It was a fair partnership: Lia helped me with math, and I kept her company, playing the friend she needed after getting into this place. Maybe it would be easier if this school were ordinary, like many others across the country, but it wasn't. I called this place the "School for privileged kids," though its real name sounded far more pompous than my dismissive label. Top-notch teachers, fancy interior, spacious classrooms fully equipped for lessons. And the students matched the pedigree — heirs to famous names: politicians' kids, business tycoons' children, even celebrities' offspring. Occasionally, the doors opened for those outside the elite — talented athletes, artists, or scholars like Lia. As for me... I'd like to say I have some special skill or that I'm heir to a gold mine owned by my family, but that wouldn't be true. It's both simpler and more complicated — I'm part of the tiny percent who got into this school by chance, thanks to luck and my mother's connections — a talented lawyer whose client is part of the school administration. I don't know what magic words she used, but I've been here for two months now, despite all my protests and requests to transfer back to an ordinary high school. But has my opinion ever mattered?
I drifted into my thoughts, not even noticing that the lesson had ended. Even that annoying bell didn't sound so bad when it announced the end and not the start of class. I glanced around absentmindedly, watching classmates get up one by one, heading to the teacher's desk with white sheets in their hands. "Test!" — that dreadful word echoed in my mind, making my eyes widen in panic. But when I looked down, the sheet and the notebook were already on my desk.
"Thanks, Lia."
I whispered, feeling relief wash over me. I watched as Lia smoothly got up with a satisfied smile on her face. She said nothing, only flashed her metal braces as her lips spread into that usual wide grin. An unspoken "you're welcome," no doubt.
I hurriedly packed my things into my backpack and followed the others out of the classroom, tossing the finished test onto the teacher's desk. That was it — no more math for today! A small reason to be glad, but I learned to be content with little; after all, the worst part of the day was behind me.
The next two lessons went much calmer than the last: the phenomenon of the Egyptian pyramids in history, and a study of the opera "Jesus Christ Superstar" in arts class. Yes, such an opera exists. A couple of brave classmates gave in to the teacher's urging and even tried hitting some high notes, but all they managed was to deafen the students sitting close to them — including me.
"Ha... You know, I'd bet their singing was way more deadly than the sirens' song that lured sailors to their doom."
I muttered, annoyed, snapping my fingers at my earlobe to check my hearing, while my other hand adjusted the strap of my hated backpack to stop it from slipping onto the dusty marble floor.
"Look here! I wouldn't be surprised if a little stream of blood dripped from my ear right now!"
I added, showing Lia my ear, and my face grew even sourer and more outraged than before.
Instead of sympathy, I only heard her familiar light giggle. She glanced where I pointed out of politeness, but, of course, there was no blood.
"Don't be so dramatic, Aurora! Besides... I think it was hilarious. Who'd have thought we had such talented guys in our class, huh?"
Lia said with a smile, casually shrugging as we neared the school cafeteria. Once inside, we were greeted by that familiar sight: the same marble floors running through the building. Dreary corporate black-and-gray tones, as if this was not a school but a banquet hall in some business center. A majestic golden crest hung on one wall — another reminder of the place's status. High ceilings, big panoramic windows, yet despite the openness, I felt a crushing tightness — as if the space was closing in on me, like I was back on stage.
It was hard to breathe. Maybe it was the smell? The stewed vegetables that dominated the air. A peculiar, stomach-twisting scent familiar to anyone who's spent countless days on grueling diets. Or maybe it was the number of judging looks — I felt them like physical touches.
If I were modeling for some brand's catalog, it would definitely be mass-market: an unremarkable blue fabric backpack that rustled with every step; a plain gray sweatshirt with worn cuffs; my favorite blue jeans — the only piece in my wardrobe that gave my hips some decent shape. On my feet — black textile sneakers. And a cheap but reliable watch on my wrist — a gift from my father, a reminder of a man I rarely see because of his endless business trips. Nothing unusual, right? Pretty normal clothes for an average teenager. Yes. And I wouldn't have thought about the price of my outfit if I were among those, like me, from a middle-class background, but here in this school... everything was different.
"Look! Look here!"
An unfamiliar female voice rang out from one of the tables. Though the girl was talking to her friend, who sipped coffee indifferently, the tone made me turn around too.
"See?! What do you think? This dress was made just for me! Under the strict supervision of the fashion house's rep! It's one of a kind."
The excited voice went on, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Her fragile figure twirled, trying to show her friend the work of art draped over her skin. Classic red-and-blue British plaid, a modern cut that emphasized every curve. And, of course, the embroidered logo of the fashion house that made the dress. At first glance — unremarkable, but screaming about its likely price.
"Why is that dress so short? If it was custom-made, she could have chosen a length that at least covers her butt when she bends over. What she ended up with looks... vulgar."
I muttered, my teeth clenched in irritation or maybe envy. I don't know if I said it to Lia or to myself, but I made sure my complaint stayed quiet, then quickly looked away from the scene to pick something from the cafeteria menu.
"Hmm..."
Lia said thoughtfully, methodically piling food on her tray, her open gaze still studying the girl. She didn't even try to hide her curiosity.
"You know... I still don't get why this school doesn't have a uniform. Isn't that a thing in schools like this? I think it actually looks pretty good..."
Lia asked, finishing arranging the plates on her plastic tray, then looked at me with that familiar innocence. Silly girl. Does she really understand nothing? Even if all the students wore the same uniform, social status isn't something matching clothes can hide. Shoes, bags, jewelry, and the simplest thing — the car your daddy drove you in. There's always something that screams your social rank louder than you ever could. Even though Lia wore a skirt and vest ordered at the start of the year from the school's atelier, the cheap brown faux-leather shoes gave away her caste.
"Before they placed me here, Mom also asked the administration about uniforms. As far as I know, mandatory uniforms get introduced and repealed every year... It depends on the parent committee. If we had to wear uniforms, how would the students show off their designer clothes, haha?"
I replied with feigned indifference and a wry smile, gripping my tray, empty despite the abundance of food on the counter. Mentioning my mother brought back something she'd said this morning as I put on my jeans to head out: "Aurora... Are you okay? Looks like you've put on some weight. Look at how hard it is to button your favorite jeans! Not long ago they were perfect." Her voice echoed in my head, making me purse my lips and shake my head slightly, as if refusing the food before me. It hurt.
"I don't think I'm hungry today."
I said flatly, attempting a soft smile, then stepped away from the counter to make room for others and headed with Lia to our usual corner table. But the sound of familiar footsteps made me stop before we reached the wooden bench. I knew that sound, even among hundreds in the room. It was him. Even before I saw the silhouette, I already knew. My palms grew sweaty, my breath caught. I looked toward the entrance, my lips parting involuntarily in anticipation. I was right.