The familiar melody of the bell - yes, melodious because Rifton was just classy like that instead of utilising the rrrrriiiiiiing sound of a cliche school bell - resounded through the hallways as the throng of students flooded through towards the exits or their respective after-school activity venues. It was very much evident that there were two kinds of people in school - the kind that had their bags packed and ready to zoom out at the first ring of the bell, and the chill ones that lingered in the classrooms and hallways to take selfies, chatter and listen to music.

Today, I was the former, unable to spend another minute in that classroom pondering about the turning effects of forces. Mr Lynch was just - pardon me - the trashiest teacher in this school. Sadly, I wasn't able to leave early like I'd hoped due to a certain cursed number on my test paper.

"Remember, homework will be worksheets 2.1, 2.2 and 2.3! Those who scored 19 and below for the test, please see me now at the front!"

And that's my cue! Humiliation time, how fun! 10/10 would not recommend! Sparks zero joy! We should throw it away like Marie Kondo says!

With that, I did the casual walk of shame towards the teacher's table, where Mr Lynch stood placing his laptop and papers into his tote bag. Screw-Up Club did not consist of that many people, given that no self-respecting Rifton girl wanted to be part of it, but there was me, Reyna, Leia Noble from the K-Pop kids... and Rianne.

Mr Lynch turned to us with his signature look of disdain and 'omg-why-are-you-still-in-my-class' vibe as the group of misfits gathered. His vulture-like eyes swept the group, finally settling on Reyna. "You! What happened?"

Of course, another episode of interrogation how we were pulling the class average way below his expectations.

"Uhh... I was careless...?"

Lynch's expression darkened as he turned to me. "You? What's it this time?"

"Same as her," I uttered, "Careless."

Actually, I would blame you. All you do is ramble off at the speed of light, make us rearrange those disorganized notes and complain.

Leia pinned the blame on her recent series of badminton tournaments - perks of being a sportsgirl, I guessed. Finally, he turned to Rianne with... surprise in his eyes?

"You? You don't normally perform this poorly. I believe this is an exception."

Exception? So what? I get it, I'm trash, there's no need to rub it in with a Rianne!

Rianne's pale eyes widened as she spoke, "Yes, apologies, I've recently been caught up with competitions and the planning for other events. We'll be sure to do better in the future." Blah, blah, blah, yeah, you're amazing, aren't you?

"Right," Mr Lynch nodded as he continued, "You'll all need to get your parent's signature for this. Remedial will start next Thursday afternoon at two o' clock, please be there. Okay, dismissed."

We dispersed, returning back to our seats to pack up, me with a sour feeling stirring in my chest. I'd actually worked hard on this one... and still, I was trash. If I was in a comic book, I believed a storm cloud would be over my head, raining down on me with hail. Even in moments of failure, everyone else was still ten times more glorious than me.

And then there was that idiot, who seemed to think extra shaming would help us study better. With such a terrible teacher, I sometimes wished the class would make a point to fail together and rebel against the education system to prove the point that we needed Mr Lynch out. Of course, that would never happen - being the conformist robots that Rifton girls were, they would just try to beat the system by excelling in it instead of my preferred choice of a full-scale rebellion. Plus, with girls like Julie shooting her arm up to answer correctly, the teachers believed that there was nothing wrong with themselves - students like me that didn't do well were just the blights in the system and not their concern.

After grabbing my blazer from the locker and dodging past a few slow-walking cliques in the crowd, I finally burst through the intricate black gates of Rifton Girls' High School and out towards the bus stop - only to witness more idiocy for my already burdened brain. The girls nearby had begun fanning themselves and ogling a certain figure at the school entrance, shooting looks of awe and suppressing squeals. This was one of the main issues about single sex schools - after such long periods of isolation from the opposite sex, girls either went crazy or became terribly awkward around boys.

Good grief.

Hawthorn Institution, Rifton's brother school, was only a few minutes' walk away from our campus, with both a primary side (where Sebastian studied) and a secondary school. In short, it was the male, even-richer version of Rifton, despite the similar school policies and admission processes. Since the richer kids always got more money for tutoring and extra classes to get ahead of their peers, they always ended up in the elite schools, no matter what policies were in place. I wasn't exactly living in a mansion with a pool, but my family wasn't broke either, which was probably why I still managed to snag a scholarship with the help of a few extra classes my mum signed me up for against my will. Even with the scholarship that most students received, the school fees were still expensive as heck. It was survival of the fittest and the richest.

And now, the Tyrannical Trio of Hawthorn (or at least, I believed they were the masculine counterparts of the ones I knew) stood at the gates, waiting as Natalie walked out to meet her brother, the undoubted King of Hawthorn - Nathaniel Kingsley. Nathaniel was a year older than his sister, had the same blonde hair and emerald eyes and was all-rounded in terms of success - it was obvious that 'success and nothing less' was the motto of the Kingsleys. With a CEO father running Kingsley Group, the socialite mother on the school board, their eldest daughter Noelle already working in the family business, there was no reason why their two youngest children weren't going to be the glittering diamonds in high society.

Just as Natalie was chatting with her brother, her face stuck in a state of permanent solemnity, I noticed trouble making its arrival in the form of the Populars - this time with Lisa strutting ahead of two robotic twins (now I knew they were fakely robotic, but whatever, still robots) and Gillian, who seemed to be concealing her underlying angst. Judging by the greetings exchanged and earlier Instagram posts, they'd all met before at parties and friend meetups. It was just natural for them to mingle - after all, getting cozy with the guys while you were in an all-girls school was a bragging rights ticket. 

"Hey, guys!" Lisa said, making her way forward in a singsong voice as the Populars followed, their trademark smiles on their faces, "Long time no see!" From a distance, I noticed the boys and girls beginning some small talk as Natalie stood to the side, a look of disdain showing as the girls flirted subtly with her brother and his friends. How funny - falling from grace had certainly wiped the fake smile off her face.

"Hey, I think we gotta make a move now," I heard Natalie comment, tugging at her brother's arm.

"Ah, yes, we have to get back. See you guys tomorrow!" Nathaniel Kingsley left with Natalie as he flashed a diamond smile that caused the Populars to grin back shyly, while a few girls nearby let out sighs as they ogled the man from a distance. I wrinkled my nose when I noticed Lisa giggling as she twirled her rose-coloured hair as if to flaunt one of her most notable features.

I rolled my eyes as I proceeded towards the bus stop, my dark ponytail swishing behind me as I tried to forget the boy craze that I had the misfortune of witnessing. Of course, they would desire to be in a relationship with Nathaniel Kingsley - he was the golden boy, he was rich, he was their ticket to assimilating into a higher social status.

Having had the slightest brush with the dangers hidden deep within the world of the one-percenters, I could only imagine what worse things the wealthy hid behind their pink champagne glasses and within their expensive walk-in closets. In fact, what the Tyrannical Trio did to me was but a mere scratch, a slap on the wrist compared to what the adults could do to each other. The abuse of power started young and would only get worse as we aged. Mere bullying and ostracism would evolve into the collapse of business empires and perhaps even lawsuits.

Sure, we lived in a capitalist society, and our worth was measured in material goods. But this school was merely a teaser trailer - and the appeal of the ever-glittering world of billionaires had become lost on me.

Just like any other teen, I had an intense, burning despise towards a burdensome, hideous creature whose name started with 'H'.

As if it wasn't bad enough that school was a dictatorship that resembled Panem with prefects for Peacekeepers, the teachers seemed intent on forcing us to slave away for them through piles of homework that wouldn't matter anymore a few years down the road. Although they kept telling those who did poorly to just work harder as a bad test grade didn't define one's life and never wrote a bad progress report for a single student, it was all hypocrisy and fakeness - once anyone failed, they were going to get kicked out of Rifton with no one feeling sorry for the poor child.

Once you failed, you were officially stupid. Once stupid, you no longer mattered - you would be nothing but dispensable. That was why everyone in the world tried so hard to rise above everyone else - all to know that their tiny, insignificant self mattered to the world by any miniscule degree. And thus we humans fought and jostled for that perfect, almost-unattainable gold standard in the thin sliver of hope that we would be beloved by everyone.

This entire idea of acceptance was so stupid, stupid enough for me to hope for change - but I knew now that there was little I could do about the way anything worked.

To shake the earth and bend the heavens - one would require great influence and power.

Note to self: drop Physics next year. After an hour, my head started throbbing and I'd gone through two rounds of mint tea - which meant it was time for a break. I quickly pulled out my phone, typed in my passcode and got on Instagram.

Looking through the stories of my schoolmates taking goofy wefies and selfies with Snapchat filters, I couldn't help but feel bitterness rise up within me. I never got a chance to do these teenage things with anyone my age. I never got reasons to edit pictures with people in them for Instagram, or get Whatsapp messages of pointless memes that were just funny. I never got to do things that best friends did together, now that all my primary school friends and I had drifted apart due to our busy schedules and I had no real or fake friend in this school.

It sucked. But of course, just as the saying went, life wasn't fair.

According to Instagram updates, the Populars had gone out on one of their little adventures again with Starbucks drinks and plenty of Instagram stories of themselves cracking jokes and playfully making fun of each other- most of which seemed extremely artificial and pre-planned.

At such moments of fakeness, I was immensely relieved that I was a loner. How could these people bother to even invest effort in having a flawless social life? Small talk in school was already a chore, let alone choosing the perfect outfit and the perfect location for a friend outing.

Yeah, Selene, like you never enter a moment of depresso from the immense void that is your social life... and your soul.

After a bit more story-viewing and feed scrolling, as well as checking for cats on Neko Atsume, I plugged my phone in for charging and went back to checking Google Classroom, where Ms Woods had posted a new task for us. An essay on an assigned poem to be done in a week.

Surprisingly, the pairings had already been assigned. Thank God - I'd always hated it whenever we had to do a group project where the teacher let the students form their own groups. Due to my inability to survive in a world where people grouped with the remnants of their cliques in projects, I always ended up with some other kid whose clique members were all in other classes - and many a time, that kid sucked ass at project work. 

At least, I wouldn't need to worry about finding a partner now.

I did a control+F, keyed in my name, and clicked enter.

Upon witnessing my partner's name, I sank back into my chair in dread.

No, I was taking it all back. No joy was sparked.