My mouth hung open in surprise. In the few hours I’d spent there today I noticed that everyone was kissing the ground these boys walked on.
“What?” she shrugged.
“I just- aren’t you afraid?”
Her smile widened. “I’m too rich to bother, and too smart to get involved. I’m literally untouchable. I’m Taylor Oppenheimer.” She replied as if it explained everything.
“Okay?”
She arched her eyebrows in surprise “Oppenheimer?”
“You can repeat it, it means nothing to me.”
“Oh wow…. Yeah, we’ll need to work on that. You won’t survive this world for long if you don’t know your history.”
I don’t plan to stay long. I thought, but I barely knew this girl, I couldn’t spill the beans.
“My family owns diamonds and not just any, we own Carbonite, which is the most famous and most expensive diamond trader. We basically control the diamond stock.”
“Wow.”
She nodded, taking a sip of her Coke. “Yeah…”
“Are you richer than them?”
She chuckled. “You’re part of them, you know that, right?”
I shook my head, frowning at the thought. “I’d rather get shot than become like them.”
She sighed. “You’re seeing the worst side of it now Esme, and yes, I’m richer than them… I think my family might be richer than all that table put together.”
“I thought all that talk with them was power and money, you should be at the head of this table then.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re forgetting one essential element in your equation… blood.”
“Blood?” I grimaced. “What are you, vampires?”
“In some ways… This town has been founded by the oldest of the oldest families, they form a blue blood clan. ‘The Patricians’.” she mocked, using quoting fingers. “You need to be decent in the three categories to make it. I might have been able to make it to the table if I’d tried hard enough but truth be told, the royalty of Brentwood is not worth the effort.”
“Patricians?”
“Yeah it’s what we call a person of noble or high rank; aristocrats.”
“And you’re not?”
She shook her head. “No, here comes the five-minute story. As you can probably tell, I’m part-Filipina. My mother was a middle-class woman from Brooklyn who met a low life wannabe gangbanger and he got her pregnant when she was 17.” She sighed. “Then he had to get himself shot. My mom fought with her family when they asked her to get an abortion and she moved out. She took care of me really well, you know, despite the meagre means and then when she was 25, she met Jonathan, my dad, and it was love at first sight. She didn’t know he was rich; he didn’t care she was a maid.”
“It’s a legit fairy tale.”
She smiled brightly, and I envied how happy she was. “It really is. Dad adopted me as soon as they got married and I’ve been a legit Oppenheimer since I was eight.”
I liked her even more now I knew that, because whilst I had the ‘blue blood’ I’d been raised normal and it somehow made me feel better to know someone else with a similar background.
“What’s your next class?” she asked, extending her hand to me.
I gave her my schedule.
“It’s quite similar. I just don’t take Politics or Chemistry.” She smiled. “Want to be friends?”
I sighed, giving my first genuine smile since I left my small home. “Desperately!”
Her own smile widened. “Cool, give me your number.”
“I, umm,” I blushed with embarrassment.
“What?”
I was grateful that the bell rang and I could avoid her confused look.
“I don’t have a phone, ah –” I chuckled as I gathered my bag but it lacked humor. “My father thinks I need to make a clean cut with my old life, so I’m not allowed a phone or internet for a while.”
“No internet?” she asked, stopping in her tracks, but she was nudged forward when someone connected with her.
“Careful, Oppenheimer” my brother barked.
“Why are you even walking that close to me to start with, Archibald?” she sneered haughtily. “Don’t you need to keep a certain distance? In case you catch my normality?”
“You should watch who you befriend too, Oppenheimer.” The blond spat with obvious disgust, looking at me. “Some people can only bring you down.”
“I think you’re right, Astor,” she replied tapping her chin with her forefinger. “You better move along then, before you bring me down.”
Astor glared at her before walking away stiffly, closely followed by my brother.
“Who the hell is he?”
Tay looked at me as if I had lost my mind before sighing. “Ah yeah, I keep forgetting you’re not from around here. I’ll drive you home after school if you want.”
I twisted my mouth with uncertainty, my father had been clear – I was not allowed to go anywhere if it wasn’t with him, Sophia or Archibald, and I was due home straight after school.
“I need to go straight home after school and –” No, I couldn’t tell her to what extent they locked me in this gilded cage.
“Douchenozzle is not going home after school – he has his stupid little boys’ club meeting,” she whispered as she walked beside me to the classroom and took a seat at the back.
“Douchenozzle?” I asked, taking the seat beside her.
“Archibald – sorry to offend.”
I chuckled. “No offense, I think it’s quite fitting, actually.”
She grinned. “We’re gonna be best friends.”
The history teacher walked in, calling the class into order.
“I’ll drive you, no argument.” she whispered before concentrating on the class.
The afternoon was quite pleasant, knowing that I was making a friend. People around school were not horrible either, not as bad as I feared based on the open hostility from my own brother and that Astor guy. Other students simply ignored me, which was just fine by me. I already had to watch my back at home, I didn’t need to do that at school as well.
“So here’s a crash history lesson,” Taylor started, linking her arm through mine as we went to her locker to get what she needed. Me? I had everything in my bag as I didn’t trust my brother not to mess with the locker.
“Archibald Forbes, Caleb Astor and Antoine Saint-Vincent are pretty much the kings of this school… They think it’s glorious.” She grimaced. “It’s quite lame if you ask me, but whatever they need to boost their over-inflated egos, you know.”
I nodded, trying to take mental notes.
“Actually,” she slammed the door of her locker and turned sharply toward me making her high ponytail swirl like a hyperactive cheerleader’s. “Antoine is a huge flirt, but he’s the least douchey one of them all – maybe because he is French, or not as rich,” she took my arm again and walked me out. “Nobody knows why but I can bear his presence.”
I looked around the carpark and frowned.
“What?” She asked looking around curiously.