Sophomores can use the coffee cart in the quad and we get to have lunch in the restaurant-style cafeteria complete with serving staff, instead of the freshmen one where you have to line up with your tray.

On the other side though, sophomores are fair game to the older kids. There’s an unwritten rule at GAA that freshmen are off-limits. No one gets to bully them or do anything to them; they’re basically ignored for the first year, but after that, all bets are off.

Our sophomore class is down ten people. Seven boys and three girls have apparently transferred to other schools, which is kind of weird considering the next closest private school is nearly an hour away, and there aren’t any public schools in North Acres.

Now that everyone is fair game, I’ve already seen one kid in my class being dragged into an empty classroom by a bunch of juniors. I’d have intervened, but the kid, Elliot, is a grade A asshole who tried to shove his hand up my skirt this morning. Him getting his ass kicked kind of feels like karma.

Courtney and I are in different classes this year which sucks. She’s super smart and her parents have her in all AP classes, I think they’re hoping she’ll be able to skip a grade and graduate early. I’m a middle-of-the-road, average student, and right now there are no AP classes in my future unless I want to fail them. So I’ve been friendless all morning while Court learns all the important stuff they teach to the brainiacs.

Heading to my locker, I twist the combination into my lock and pull it open, shoving my backpack inside and pulling my wallet and cell out. School rules say no cells, except at lunch. It drives my social-butterfly bestie crazy, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I don’t really have any friends here except for Court. I went to grade school with most of the kids in my class, but once they realized I wasn’t one of them, I became a social pariah. Only Court stuck by me once she realized my family was just normal and not superrich.

“Hey, bestie,” she singsongs as she skips down the hall toward me. Court has so much pep she could take on the entire cheer squad on her own. She’s bouncy and enthusiastic and well, she just has an awful lot of school spirit. I’m the opposite, I go here because my mom spent a small fortune to send me here. I don’t love the place, in fact I don’t even particularly like the place. But the alternative is the public school in South Acres, where you have to go through metal detectors and have your bag checked for weapons before you can even get inside.

Court barely breathes as she talks at a hundred miles an hour, telling me about all the drama she’s heard this morning. Someone’s parents split up and are in the middle of a very nasty and very public divorce. Someone’s dad got arrested for embezzlement, and someone else is fucking their pool boy. I listen and nod in all the right places. This stuff is important to Court because she’s a part of their world, but I’m not. I have a job and bills and responsibilities; I don’t care what the rich bitches of North Acres are doing.