English Prep Series

English Prep stands tall with its ivy-covered exterior and old, wrought-iron doors. The stone gargoyles sit at the school's entrance, knowing just as much as anyone: I don't belong. Once upon a time, I did. I belonged in the "it" crowd with all the other well-endowed kids, but now, I am no longer welcome.

English Prep has always been known for housing the most uppity, privileged rich kids in all of Pike Valley. That is what has been driven into my brain since attending the opposing prep academy in the area since middle school. So when I am hastily pulled out of Wellington Prep and thrown into English Prep my junior year, it feels like I am being thrown to the wolves. My plan is to blend in and to remain invisible, so I fly under the radar, staying away from the "in" crowd. Then I lock eyes with Ollie Powell.

Several months ago, I was the queen of English Prep. The boys stopped in their tracks at the sight of my too-short plaid skirt, and the girls cowered behind their locker doors, envious of me ruling the halls with the most desired boy by my side. But the thing about queens? They often fall to their own demise.