Young Elite - Chapter #7 - by itsvlada

There is a voice that does not use words. Listen.

“​​Try that again, and I'll break your nose."

The blond smirks sarcastically.

"Protecting an orphan?"

"She's, first of all, a person and is studying in this academy. Therefore, she deserves respect. And you got your place thanks to your parents' money. A piece of crap."

Amy shouts something to me from the side, but there's a commotion all around. I see the cleaner collecting the food and wiping the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot someone from the faculty. But my gaze freezes on a completely different place. The farthest table. There are quiet laughs. And him.

Alexander is sitting lazily, relaxed, with his legs thrown over an empty chair. Beside him is a girl who touches him everywhere without stopping. There are two more girls and one boy with him.

Alex is looking at me. His gaze burns through me. Shame floods my face even more. As if that wasn't enough. As if his humiliation wasn't enough.

Even from here, I can see the mockery. It says "you deserved this. You are nothing and nobody."

In the next moment, the boy turns to the girl and laughs.

"Aurora," I shift my gaze to David.

Let's go," Amy says, touching my shoulder. "Let's change."

I nod and follow her quickly, almost automatically. I don't thank her until we reach the room.

"It's all right," she says. "He's a jerk! Don't worry about it. We'll go back, and you'll show him you don't care, got it?"

I sit on the bed, staring at her in surprise as she pulls out other clothes from the wardrobe.

"Got it," I reply.

"Change, Aurora," she says, smiling and tossing me some clothes - jeans, a t-shirt, and a shirt to wear on top. They're hers, not mine.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask.

"Why not?" She shrugs. "Aren't you just like us?"

"No," I say.

"Cut it out," Amy says. "You're a girl just like me. Yeah, you were unlucky not to have parents, sorry, but that doesn't define you."

"Thank you," I say.

"Come on, change your clothes," she says.

After changing under Asya's strict watch, I head back to the cafeteria. I try to ignore the sidelong glances as I walk in. I sit down at David's table, and he looks at me, asking with his eyes if I'm okay. I nod, and we start eating.

We chat about tomorrow's schedule and share our first impressions of everything. Dasha mentions she's definitely going to take up tennis, and two of David's classmates burst out laughing, imitating famous tennis players' voices. As we talk, the tension fades away, and by the time I return to my room, I feel like everything is back to normal. It's as if everyone has forgotten about my embarrassing moment. This way is better. Safer for me.

***

The next two weeks are a whirlwind. I'm getting familiar with the academy and most of the students. Not everyone is like Baron, that blond guy. Most are pretty normal, which is a relief. I thought it would be the opposite. The orphans mostly keep to themselves. Sometimes they try to cause trouble, but the professors or my new friends step in quickly.

I'm growing closer to my friends Amy and Dasha. In the evenings, I take a stroll with David in the garden. We talk about everything under the sun, and it's amazing how much we have in common.

As the class president's assistant, I'm not getting any tasks. Alexander doesn't ask me to do anything, and he usually avoids me. When we do cross paths in the corridor, it's like I'm not even there. He doesn't give me a second glance, like I'm invisible.

That's a relief. I thought it would be worse. I think being ignored is better for me.

Then October arrives, and autumn takes over. The forest around the academy turns yellow, and the garden does too. We do fewer outdoor activities like football and tennis, and have more classes indoors. But I'm not complaining. I like it here. The level of knowledge is higher than at the boarding school, so I'm focused on studying.

Today, like the past month, I'm surrounded by library books, reading about business development. It's one of the specializations here, and I find it fascinating. I also have a book on psychology and people's internal fears nearby. I open it and realize I grabbed the wrong one.

I sigh. I don't want to go to the library at almost nine in the evening; some students have started a secret meeting club for kisses there. Just like Amy and Dasha, who are now wandering around the stables with the boys from the parallel class.

I adjust my uniform skirt, decide to skip the jacket, grab the book, and head out. I walk quickly down the corridor and descend to the first floor. From there, I take the stairs down to the basement, where the library is.

I step into the dimly lit room. The little light from the small windows under the roof barely gets in during the day, and in the evening, it's even spookier.

I walk to the shelves, put the book back in place, and running my finger along the shelves, I look for what I wanted to take from the very beginning.

***

Alex’s POV

The library is the one place where I feel useless. It's a nightmare of books, dust, shelves, silence, and darkness. I'm not used to being inferior to anyone. I sit at a table, flipping through the pages of a historical treatise under the lamp's light. I'm annoyed. I'd rather be with Ella right now, not thinking about anything. Thoughts would come later, after everything... Then I'd fall onto the bed and try to sleep to drown out the noise in my head, to escape this burning pain beneath my skin.

The library doors open, and I watch the orphan girl walk in. Her rolled-up sleeves, short skirt, and knee-high socks make her look small and skinny, an embodiment of weakness. I keep an eye on her as she disappears into the rows of shelves. She's gone for a long time, but I can't forget about her. She irritates me that much.

I'm even more annoyed that I need her help. The principal reminded me of my responsibilities as class president today, saying the orphan girl and I must attend this month's meeting. As if I care.

I realize my eyes are fixed on the direction she went. For the whole month, I've been avoiding her. I've been avoiding her because, when I pass by, my skin buzzes with the desire to feel that silly spring scent. That's why I hold my breath when I pass by. I need to figure out this feeling.

My grandfather's imaginary voice mocks me. He always said we shouldn't put someone like her on the same level as our family. She's nobody. We're the elite; we don't lower ourselves to converse with those of lower status. What do I have to cooperate with this disaster for now?

The orphan girl emerges from behind the shelves, confidently striding toward the exit with thick books against her chest and her black hair thrown back.

I look around; we're alone here.

"Hey!"

The girl freezes in place. She slowly turns to me and looks at me with surprise. As if I don’t have the right to command her. In her eyes is a question, as if asking what I want, but not a word escapes her lips. She is clearly surprised by my presence here.

“Orphans aren’t taught manners in boarding schools? Were you not taught to greet when entering a room?" I ask sarcastically, leaning back in my chair. Compiling a business plan will definitely not be studied today. "Or were you not beaten enough in the orphanage to learn to respond?

"You don’t deserve the rules of good manners," she retorts dryly.

I clench my jaw and stand up from the table. The girl takes a few steps back and presses her back against one of the shelves. I see, I’m making her nervous. She bites her lower lip and looks back defiantly.

"I think you just don’t know them," I hiss.

I step closer to her. Why? She drives me crazy to the noise in my ears. Just her gaze, bold and intimidated at the same time, irritates me.

It's disgusting to stand this close to her. It's disgusting even to look at her. But I look. It only gets worse. I run my eyes along her body, her thin fingers and wrists gripping the books.

How can one be like this? Just like in dreams...

She has been haunting my dreams practically all this month. There is no one else. Either she is in my dreams, or simply darkness. An emptiness. Just like she said. As if she clearly sees what is happening there, behind the chest.

She shrinks and tries to blend into the wooden shelf. It won’t work, Waldorf.

"Scared?”

I ask for some reason. I tilt my head to the side and toss my hair back with my hand, brushing it off my forehead.

I move in even closer. I press my body against hers. Only her books stand between us. Nothing more.

"No.”

"Don’t lie.”

I smile. Coldly. Sharply. Roughly.

"I’m not lying,” she insisted.

A tremor rolls through her body like a wave. She doesn’t even realize it. She presses herself even harder against the shelf, gripping the books. Her fingers turn white, her lip bitten almost to the blood. I can practically hear her blood rushing in my ears. I see her wild pulse. I read fear on her face.

Liar.

"Then why are you trembling?”