My dad is rich enough to hire a tutor for me. He doesn’t have to send me here. Doesn’t he know that home educated students performed better academically than those who went to school? And it isn’t like I’m going to fit in with all these rich snobs. They’d take one look at me and know I came from the wrong side of the tracks. I will never fit in here. This is a disaster waiting to happen.
At last, we reach the front of the queue. I try to open the door to get out, but it is locked. Surprise, surprise. I have to wait for the chauffeur to come and let me out.
Embarrassing.
Hefting the rucksack on my shoulder, I take a deep breath and walk up the steps leading to the entrance. As I make my way up, a couple of younger boys run past, knocking my shoulder and making me trip up the stairs. My rucksack falls down and books spill everywhere.
Brilliant way to start the first day.
“Are you okay?” A girl around my age kneels down to help me pick up my things.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I don’t look at her, ashamed of the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I’m not going to let anyone see any sign of weakness. I’m an Archaic and while that hadn’t meant an awful lot to me up until now, if we are some big powerful family, that makes me a target, whether I like it or not. If there is one thing I have learned from the last time I went to school, it is how to avoid drawing attention to yourself. If bullies got even a hint of blood, they’d go for the jugular.
“Here.” The girl passes me a stack of books. “I’m Milly.”
I take the books from her and shove them in my bag with a soft smile. “Ivy,” I reply.
“I know,” Milly says with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. This girl looks like one of the popular girls who lived near me. Pretty, dark luminous hair and bright blue eyes. She must be rich, based on her designer bag and watch. Her uniform fits her tightly, just like mine, and I can’t help notice that all the girls here look the same. The guys are far more casual. Typical. “It’s all anyone can talk about–Ivy Archaic coming to King Academy at last!”
“Gee. I always wanted to be famous,” I sarcastically reply.
“You’re funny.” Milly laughs, and it brightens up her face. Now I get a closer look at her, there is something familiar about her, but I’m sure we have never met. “Let me take you to Mr Pilkington’s office. He’ll want to see you before you go to class and he’ll tell you everything you need to know about this place. Or at least, everything he thinks you need to know. If you want to know what really goes on here, we should talk. I can fill you in on all the gossip, let you know who’s cool and who you need to avoid, especially since you’re an Archaic.”
Milly continues to talk as she escorts me to the Headmaster’s office. I barely have to say a word as she babbles on about how I hadn’t missed much, even though I am joining in the middle of term. Apparently, the Academy is doing well in the football and hockey leagues but not so well in swimming. Like I care.
“And here we are. Headmaster Pilkington’s office,” she announced, coming to a halt outside a solid oak door. “I have to head over to English, but hopefully we’ll be in some of the same classes. And maybe we can have lunch together?”
“Maybe,” I say, inwardly planning to find somewhere private where I can eat alone. I had no intention of staying at the Academy for a minute longer than I needed. Friends don’t fit into my escape plan.
Knocking on the door, I am immediately summoned inside. I walk in to see a weasel of a man sitting behind a large desk. Large glasses hugged a sharply pointed nose and a bald head shone through his comb-over.
“Ah.” He smiles when he sees me enter. “You must be our new Archaic.”
“Guess I must be,” I shrug.
“We were delighted when your father contacted us to enroll you here,” Headmaster Pilkington tells me. “We have a proud heritage of serving the four houses. In fact, the school itself is divided into four houses, each named after one of the families, and engaging in friendly competition with each other in sports and academic studies. As our only Archaic pupil, you will automatically be appointed Head Girl, an honour I’m sure you’ll be proud to accept.”
“Are you kidding?” I can’t stop the words erupting from my mouth. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
“Manners, Miss Archaic.” The headmaster arches an eyebrow. “Head girl is a wonderful position, one which will stand you in good stead when the time comes to apply to university. You are an ambassador of the school, a role model to the other pupils. You will be required to give speeches, do readings at assembly…”
“Oh hell, no!” This is the worst possible thing that can happen. “Don’t you already have a Head Girl? Let her keep the position.”
“Miss Archaic!” The headmaster’s tone is sharp. “I would hate to give you a detention on your first day with us and I’m sure your father wouldn’t like to hear of your behaviour either.” He fixes me with a pointed look and I know I am beat.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll be your Head Girl.”
“Wonderful!” Headmaster Pilkington smiles in approval. “You are correct. There is another girl who you will be replacing, but she fully understands the situation and is more than happy to step aside. We all appreciate the importance of having an actual Archaic heading up the school’s House of Archaic. Right. Now that’s settled, it’s time to determine your timetable. Coming to us so late in your school career, particularly from a home-educated background, somewhat limits your options when it comes to A levels. But your father has made it clear that he has no issue with you remaining here an extra year should it be required in order for you to complete your studies to an acceptable level. What subjects are you interested in?”
“Katy signed me up for online courses in art, music, and graphic design,” I tell him. “My work is marked by tutors and I’ve predicted good grades in all of them.”
“An artist, eh?” Headmaster Pilkington nods slowly. “Well, I think we can get you onto either an art or a music course, but not both, I’m afraid. Your father is quite insistent that you are to study politics and business, so there’s little room for more creative subjects in that mix.”
“Seriously?” My heart sank. There is nothing more boring than politics and now I am supposed to do it at A level?
“Oh yes. One of our duties at King Academy is to prepare our charges for the reality of their lives when they leave our hallowed halls. Since you will be taking up the mantle of House Archaic, it is vital you learn the skills you will need to take over from your father.”
Yeah, right. Like that will ever happen.
“So which is it to be? Music or art?”
“That’s like asking me to choose a favourite child!” I protested. “Can’t I do both? People do four A levels don’t they?”
“The more gifted students do, yes,” Headmaster Pilkington says. “But I’m afraid that with no history in the school system, we have to make allowances for you adjusting to a new way of doing things. I cannot allow you to overburden yourself. You must choose whether you prefer to do music or art. Unless you’d like me to call your father and see what third subject he would choose for you?”