Her peace and quiet lasted until the next morning, but it sure did not feel like it.

She spent most of the evening in her room, helping herself to the few snacks she been able to afford with the twenty-dollar note her mother had tossed it the backseat during the drive and wearing out the batteries in her Walkman. She fell asleep long after the outside corridor had gone quiet, and woke up to see grey sunlight streaming in through the window. Then she heard some rapping on her bedroom door.

“Hey...uh, sorry if I woke you but classes start in ten minutes…”

Lizzie groaned. “Fuck... “

“Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” said Lizzie, sitting up in her bed. “I’ll be out soon.”

“Oh ok. Elizabeth, right?”

“It’s Lizzie,” she corrected through gritted teeth.

“Right, Lizzie, ok. Um, well we’re both in Chemistry this morning so I guess I’ll see you later. I’m Beatrice, by the way.”

Lizzie sighed. “Right. See you later.”

She heard footsteps as ‘Beatrice’ hurried away to class, then flopped back onto her pillow. “Kill me now.”

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Lizzie walked toward Bullworth’s main building as quickly as she could manage without looking conspicuous; the last thing she wanted was attention. Thankfully this place seemed to have more students than it was built for, and she blended into the large crowd easily and relaxed.

Until she heard the whispering.

They were a few feet behind her, and probably didn’t know they were in earshot. Or maybe they did.

“Yeah, that’s her,” someone said. “Lizzie Taylor, I think.”

“She related to that guy Eric? One of the preppies?”

“I think she’s his sister.”

“Really? They don’t look alike.”

“Failed abortion, maybe?”

Lizzie heard both boys snigger quietly. Her body stiffened and her eye twitched, but she kept her gaze forward and her pace steady. She knew these types of people, and she’d learned not to give them a show.

The chemistry lab was on the ground floor, just off of the staircase. Lizzie darted into the open door and scanned the room for empty seats. She spotted an empty table near the back of the room and quickly made for it. Only then did she feel relaxed. In her dark corner of the room, relatively out of sight of the students and the old, balding professor, there was nobody to bother her.

She dumped her books down on the desk, folded her school jacket, and rested her head on it.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Um, is this seat taken?”

Her entire body stiffened and she fought back a torrent of insults as she looked up. Standing at the foot of the desk was a thin girl with brown hair, thick glasses, and a stack of books clutched in her arms. At Lizzie’s gaze her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Sure, whatever,” Lizzie told her, then closed her eyes again.

“Thanks,” the girl said quietly.

Lizzie tuned out as the remaining students filed in and the professor began speaking.

“Um, you know Dr Wattz is talking, right?”

“Unfortunately yes.”

“Well you should probably pay attention,” the girl said, sounding reproachful. “Dr Wattz can ramble sometimes. You won’t know what’s going on unless you pay attention.”

Lizzie opened her eyes and sat up straight. “Look, I’ve got nothing against you, but I don’t want to be here. I’m perfectly content to sleep through class until they kick me out.”

The girl’s jaw dropped as if Lizzie had just swore at her. “You should take your education more seriously. Going here isn’t cheap.”

“Oh I know, my mother never shuts up about it,” Lizzie muttered.

“Miss Taylor, Miss Trudeau!” barked Dr Wattz from the front of the room. “Would you two mind being quiet while I’m in the middle of a lecture?”

“Sorry, professor!” the girl said back, going red with embarrassment. When Wattz resumed his speech she whispered, “Look what you just did! I can’t afford to get in trouble!”

“Then let me sleep in peace and you won’t get in trouble,” said Lizzie darkly, putting her head back down and closing her eyes again. She heard a huff of outrage, but her new lab partner didn’t say anything else.

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“I hope I’m not boring you, Miss Taylor.”

Lizzie sat up, yawning, and rubbed her eyes. Dr Wattz was standing in front of her desk while the entire class watched, a frown on his face.

“Not at all, professor,” Lizzie said in a dull voice.

“Then perhaps you can tell me the definition of a chemical reaction.”

“Afraid not. I wasn’t listening.”

“Then guess, Miss Taylor. It’s not hard.”

“Why guess when you can just tell me?”

Wattz sighed. “Alright then. Beatrice, what about you?”

Beatrice, whose hand had shot into the air the moment the question had been asked, said, “Sir, a chemical reaction is the process through which a substance transforms into another substance.”

“Thank you,” said Wattz curtly. “Miss Taylor, I suggest you pay more attention. Miss Trudeau is not going to be able to carry you through this class.”

Lizzie shrugged. Wattz shook his head and returned to his desk.

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“You know,” said Beatrice as the bell rang, “I’m not going to do your work for you, but I tutor some of the other students in the library every week. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Lizzie, making for the door.

“Wait!” said Beatrice, hurrying to catch up with her. “What are you going to do instead? Sleep in class all day?”

“Better than trying to learn at this dump,” Lizzie replied.

“If you work hard enough you can learn on your own,” Beatrice told her. “You’re going to regret it in ten years when-oh!”

Beatrice stumbled, her books thumping to the floor as someone else took her spot next to Lizzie.

The girl next to her was slim and fit looking in a dark blue cheerleader’s outfit, with her dark brown hair tied in a ponytail. She would have looked pretty if it wasn’t for the evil smirk on her face.

“Beat it, nerd,” she told Beatrice, who was kneeling down and picking up her books, before rounding on Lizzie. “Sorry about her. The nerds sometimes forget their place.”

Lizzie frowned and took a step back. “Sorry, but who exactly are you?”

“Mandy Wiles,” she said, her nose in the air as if she was proud of something. “Head of the school’s cheerleading squad. And you’re Eric Taylor’s brother, right?”

“Nope, no relation,” said Lizzie quickly.

“So you just happen to have the same name as the sister Eric never shuts up about?”

Lizzie blinked. “He talks about me?”

“Ha, I knew it!”

Lizzie realised her mistake and almost swore.

“Lizzie, we’re going to be late for English,” said Beatrice awkwardly, standing up with her books haphazardly piled in her arms.

“Go ahead,” said Lizzie. “I’ll be right behind you.”

When Beatrice was out of earshot, Lizzie stared at Mandy and said darkly, “You tell my sellout brother to stay away from me. I don’t want to see him or any of his bitchy friends.”

With that, she stormed off, leaving a shocked Mandy behind.