Chapter 4

THE NERD FACTION was the first thing I spotted in the cafeteria.

I spotted them from miles away. There were three of them, and they all had their heads buried in books. I gulped, allowing my eyes to indulge the rest of the cafeteria.

Not too far from the window, I identified a group of people dressed in button downs, seemingly deep in discussion. They wore expressions so serious one would have no choice but to assume these were the future politicians of our society. I decided at that moment that I would attempt to name these factions, so to speak. I nicknamed the formal attired people 'Future Politicians'.

Towards the centre, I spotted a distinct group of males. One of them was twirling a basketball, another one talking about 'the best touchdown in history'. They cracked sexist jokes and laughed collectively as one caveman entity. My eyes didn't linger on them for long - I labelled them 'Athletically Inclined'.

Table to table, I identified 'Hipsters', 'Fake-nice People', 'Artistic Introverts', 'Feminists and Meninists', 'Occult Lovers', 'Really Too Rich To Care About Factions'... I came to realisation that the factions system had been flawlessly executed, there wasn't a single soul out of place.

But it felt wrong.

The fragmentation of the student body, it wasn't a naturally occurring phenomenon. It felt wrong - so wrong. I understood where the council was coming from. Where the amalgamation of students engendered a bunch of social issues, segmentation of the student body wasn't exactly the right way to go about it. Or was it?

I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that this school would control it's students right down to the friends they chose.

Pictures of Richmond Park Academy did no justice to this place. Their cafeteria was tastefully designed, with the right blend of chic meets Victorian era. My eyes trailed the vertical garden on one wall, shooting upwards and ending in airy skylight. The floors tiles had elaborate patterns that added character to the cafeteria. There were students scattered around the enclosed space, seated on cushioned chairs that matched the hardwood tables. But of course, I leave the best for last - the smell of food, combined with a stomach that hadn't eaten in over eight hours, left me in a salivating mess.

I dug into the pockets of my sweatpants, found a twenty dollar bill and proceeded to buy myself a feast.

The Faction Fivers, or the nerds (as affectionately coined by yours truly) glanced up as I drew near. Their eyes held curiosity, the kind that made scientific advancements and technological singularity possible. I beheld the faces of our country's thinkers.

These were the people who helped window wash Richmond Park Academy. I recognized one of them from the school's website. I belatedly came to realization that the people before my eyes were the furthest thing from normal. They were of "Winner of Perennial Math Competition 2018", "Winner of Google Science Fair 2017", "Science Prodigy 2018" archetype. And I felt a stab of awe (or envy) pierce my chest. It was inadequacy at it's very finest.

The longer I stared, the more something stood out to me. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that these people weren't smiling. They were missing the artificial smiles that they pasted on for the school's website. There was a tangible air of hostility, silent 'who the fuck is she's, and an impatience that was beginning to crackle.

Against the unfriendliness dressed in thick glasses and mismatched clothing, I succumbed to an urge that overpowered my fear of mortifying outcomes - it was an urge to have friends in this place.

With shaky hands, I placed my tray of food down. "Hey friends. What's up?"

"What's up," the darker skinned male echoed condescendingly. "What are you?"

I, very slowly, raised an eyebrow. I wasn't sure how to respond. "I'm half Dominican, half German, if you're asking about my ethnicity."

The female raised her badly groomed eyebrow back. "He wasn't, he was asking for your faction. But you must be new. Welcome to this cesspool."

I bit a huge chunk off my beef burger as I scrutinized them properly. There were three of them, two of which were males. The left-most male was a ginger, acne ridden, and too lanky, seemingly. The male in the centre seemed to be of Southern Asian origin, judging from the coloration of his skin. The female just looked like she had never seen a day in the sun. Her hair was cornsilk, if one paid too little attention, one wouldn't even be able to see her eyebrows.

"I'm in Faction Five, like you guys!" I told the three of them, who judging from their facial expressions seemed to think I was lying. I wonder why.

"So," I started awkwardly. I was however intercepted.

"Are you artistic?"

"Um, maybe?"

"Do you wanna help test out this new AI?" I saw the start of a gleam in the Indian's eyes.

"What?"

The Indian - not to sound offensive, I really didn't know how to refer to this person - closed his Astrophysics book. "It lets you draw apps."

"Sorry, what? Is AI artificial intelligence?

“Yeah. We’ll be using a premade data model. You just have to run it. It’s a Python script. You got a laptop or something?”

“Uh…”

“I think it’s on tensorflow. There’s this YouTube channel that condenses academic papers on AI into 2 minutes. I can go look for the library and run it,” he said, as he opened his laptop.

He turned to his friend. “You think it’s worth it?” Then his eyes went to his laptop’s screen. “It’s called pix2code on Github.”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

The Indian groaned. “Screw it, it takes five hours. Even on a good graphics card.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on at all.”

Just like that, the magical moment was over. The Indian kid lost interest, it was evident in the way he sighed and shut his laptop. I didn't know what to do. But I reminded myself that I resigned myself to this fate through the following questions:

[14. Which of the following appeals to you?

> Living life on the edge and being reckless > Forming meaningful connections with people > Self expression (theatrics, words, music, art or otherwise)

> Constantly deepening your knowledge > Extending a helping hand whenever possible > An afternoon of physical exertion]

[16. Do grades matter?

> Not at all > They are everything to me > Somewhere in between]

"What are your names?" I asked them.

The girl was the one who answered. "I'm Karina," she pointed at herself. "That's Kiran, and Eugene. Although, realistically speaking, you can forget their names. Because you're not going to be friends with them."

"I beg your pardon?"

Karina's face remained blank.

A few moments passed in silence as I ate my burger. But, not even the juicy patty could wash away the unpleasant aftertaste in my throat. For a long time, I went about life thinking the world wasn't a bad place. But these people before me were plain unwelcoming.

Eugene the ginger, all of a sudden, stood up.

"Kiran, uh, help me with something," He murmured.

Kiran's eyes lifted to meet the ginger's. They seemed to be holding a silent conversation, one that lasted a full minute before Kiran himself stood up. At the sight of the two males in departure, Karina the ghost stood up as well.

"Don't leave without me," she said. I detected a tinge of a foreign accent in her words, but I couldn't place where it came from.

It was after the three of them left that I came to realize I was alone. I sighed at my food. I stepped into this cafeteria, excited by the endless prospects that this place held. But now, even the food on my tray looked tasteless. I consigned the remaining of my food to the trash can before whipping out my phone, whereupon I kept a digital copy of Richmond Park's map.

Thankfully, I was not illiterate when it came to maps. With its help, I led myself back to the female hostels, the one with the million dollar vista. My room, at this hour of the day was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

I approached the window and sighed at the yellowing horizon. I wasn't used to feeling this lonely. This place was nothing like home.

✖

I woke up to a dark room, from the familiar chiming of my phone's ringtone.

"Dad?" I greeted, my voice thick with grogginess.

"Hey kiddo," my father greeted back. "Were you sleeping?"

"Yeah," I leaned back against the wooden frame of the bed. I felt even more tired than I did before I fell asleep. I began to suspect my exhaustion wasn't lack-of-sleep related.

My father chuckled - a noise I haven't heard in a long time. I haven't heard from my father in a long time, period. In the past few months, my father's attention had become so scarce that I grew to cherish conversations with him (over the phone or otherwise) more so than I should.

"How's your new school?"

"It's okay," I lied through my teeth. "I made some new friends, spent the afternoon unpacking... They sell great food at the cafeteria. I'm excited for classes."

Things weren't perfect with my parents right now. Well, our relationship wasn't ever perfect to begin with, but now, more than ever, there was a notable strain. And it reared its ugly head at each opportunity of a period of silence.

"Andie," my father sighed. There was a lot of sighing these days. Father was a busy man, but it appeared my misconduct added this load of stress on his shoulders. As my mother said so eloquently, I had become such a shameful, self-hating person in their absence that it was my parents job to intervene.

"I know you must hate us," my father told me. "I am disappointed in myself too. If I could go back into the past to alter things, I would. I would be a better version of myself, Andie. Alas, fate is unkind and time doesn't rewind itself to give us second chances."

"Dad, this is not anyone's fault but mine," I said quietly.

"Before I end this call, I want you to know that I may be a busy man, but you and your mother are always on my mind."

"Are you... leaving already?"

"I have a meeting, kiddo. I'll call back as soon as I get a chance. You can tell me more about this school then."

I hung up before he could bid goodbye. It was such a dark room, and I had such a dark mind. So I pondered inwards, and everything was twisted and sinewy, a fucking mess. I recalled a time when things were simpler, when I thought of Patrick as a good boyfriend without ulterior motives.

I thought we were two people in love. I watered the relationship with tears, I fertilized it with self sacrifice. Oh, my ribcage spewed screams, but my suture-impaled lips could never deliver anything of coherence. We had our very own garden, but my God, it was fucking ugly.

There was a scuttling of feet beyond my door, soft, but enough to banish the cognizance of guilt.

[20. Why Richmond Park Academy?

> Someone made the decision for me > Prestige, to be with people of equal rank > I resonate with the values of this place]

✖

I arrived here on a Friday, for better or for worse.

I came to Richmond Park Academy with naught but Grandmother's clothes and a bunch of stationeries. My parents had entrusted into my own hands the purchase of my uniform, along with textbooks according to curricular requirements.

By the time I woke up, it was 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning. The room smelled faintly of vanilla even though the scented candles had long since burnt out. I had stayed up to read about artificial intelligence and programming, not that I understood much.

But I vainly hope it would give me something to talk about with these people the next time we have an encounter.

There wasn't much beyond the four walls of Richmond Park Academy. My window overlooked a lush, green forest of pine trees. I slid the glass pane open, and I revelled for several seconds in the taste of cold air against my tongue. Against the backdrop of chirping birds, I dragged myself to the sink so I could wash and banish the remnants of sleep from my system.

This morning was cold for late September. It probably had to do with choice in PJs. I wasn’t used to sleeping in long nighties, so some time at 3am, I stripped and fell asleep in my underwear. Not that the cold temperature was an issue, this room came with excellent heating facilities.

As I dragged a brush through my mouse-brown hair, I couldn't help but note the circles beneath my eyes. I wish Grandmother allowed me to bring foundation. Alas, quote unquote, "Cosmetics are impure, and young girls don’t need that gunk on their faces".

The prospect of collecting my uniform was an exciting one. It meant that I didn't always have to wear Grandmother's extreme clothes that left everything to the imagination (if you know what I mean).

Richmond Park Academy was a Victorian era building that had been touched with enough modernization that rendered the act of climbing down 8 flights of stairs unnecessary. As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I soaked in the interior of the hallway.

I'd see the occasional human rush past, but no one ever says hi in this place. Everyone's a trajectory of their own, purposeful strides and downcast gazes - perhaps this was the recipe to success, since Richmond Park was known for it's notable alumni.

I allowed my eyes to roam the inanimate aspects of this lonely place.

It was an airy hallway, with timber doors adorning the walls on both sides. There was a total of ten rooms on this floor, some catering for two inmates, most catering for one. The top floor rooms, as clarified by my mother, were the most expensive in the block. I resented how my father threw his money around. Albeit, it gave me bragging rights, but it always drew unnecessary attention.

The bad kind. You'll come to understand.

✖

"You must be Miss Andrea Schaeffler!"

"Yes," I said very warily.

The woman was middle aged, and in a rush to secure her measuring tape. In no time, she was by my side.

"Over here, we custom make the uniforms for our students - don't worry, it's all paid for in your fees. I'm just going to take your measurements. Your uniform should be ready by tomorrow."

I said nothing as she took my measurements, lifted my hands and stood with legs apart when I needed to. I was currently dressed in a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. If possible, I didn't want to run into a single person (that I knew) today.

It was embarrassing for me to be walking around in what I was wearing. When I left the uniform booth, I made sure to keep my eyes on the ground. My next destination was the cafeteria.

After my encounter with the ghost, the Indian and the ginger yesterday, I resolved never to eat in the cafeteria again. I made up my mind that the next twelve months would strictly be dedicated to academic growth.

I'd had my share of socializing in the past few years anyway. I began listing down the food I would require to stock up on as I neared the cafeteria. This was when I walked into none other than Chelsea from my first day at this place.

"Hi, Andrea!" She greeted too cheerfully. "How are you settling in? How's Faction Five?"

"Uh," I scrunched my features up. "How'd you know I was in Faction Five?"

She flicked her ponytail. "I know things, Andrea. Also," her voice dropped to a whisper. "I heard what happened between you and your Faction Five friends."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know," Chelsea leaned closer, eyes darting around as though checking for eavesdroppers. Which was considerably ironic because Chelsea didn't seem like the kind of person who could perform without an audience.

"We have a club for students who get rejected by even their own faction members..."

I crossed my arms as I indulged her in the most deadpanned expression I could muster. This made her happy for some reason.

"It's called the Find-A-Friend club. It's for really desperate, lonely outcasts of society," she beamed widely at me. "I run it of course. Feel free to drop by any time! We hold meetings every Monday, 5pm, at the SCroom. Everyone is invited regardless of factions!"

"Okay, I didn't exactly come here to look for friends," I told Chelsea.

[2. Few close friends or big circle of acquaintances?

> Few close friends > Big circle of acquaintances

> I don’t need anyone but myself]

Chelsea winked in response, before she skipped over to her lunch table. I didn’t need to look to know that she would be telling her friends about her encounter with me. I tried not to feel too vulnerable.

✖

I was like, the last person to arrive to class on Monday morning. It had to do with how I slept through four alarms.

I found myself trying to tame my hair whilst navigating the school in search of the Calculus classroom, situated at Room 513, Block Augustine, wherever that was. At least my uniform was form fitting. It comprised a white button down with a red tie, a red checkered skirt and a black blazer emblazoned with Richmond Park Academy's emblem.

Unluckily for me, I didn't charge my phone, so I was only able to navigate to the classroom with the help of kind passerbys. The very fact that I wasn't dressed in one of Grandmother's ridiculous church clothes helped with the confidence.

I thought I would hate uniforms, but it surprisingly worked to my advantage. It placed everyone on the same pedestal, irregardless of fashion sense and price of clothes.

I was panting when I stumbled into Room 513.

"I am so sorry," I managed to say to the teacher. "I got lost."

The teacher who was mid-speech through a complicated theorem didn't look too impressed. Her jaws snapped shut as she placed her pointer down.

"You're fifteen minutes late. I don't tolerate tardiness in this class."

You're a Calculus teacher, I don't tolerate superiority complexes in adults, I wanted to snarl. But then I remembered that I was here to mature into someone new. So I began employing an (effective, albeit rusty) ass-kissing approach.

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am... I really lost my way. I didn't have my phone with me so I had to ask around for directions and I have a shitty - I mean a bad sense of direction."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, jutted her chin out. "I assume you are the Andrea Schaeffler?"

The? Andrea Schaeffler?

"Yes, Ma'am." I replied after a beat of silence, unsure what implications my name had. Is my name a thing amongst the staff?

"I go by Ms. Elliot. Go take a seat, Andrea."

I surveyed the students for the first time. There were approximately 30 in the class. I recognized naught but one face, and that face belonged to Jaxon Ortega, my faction head. Unfortunately, he had a seatmate. Actually everyone had a seatmate. I consigned myself to the back of the class, to sit with no one other than myself. The rest of Calculus passed in an uneventful manner.

It had to do with my very shallow understanding of the topic. I barely passed pre-Calc, and this school is known for pushing their students to their very own limits in terms of academia. It took every ounce of strength in my being now to slump my head against the desk and give in to good ol' slumber.

My second class was English Literature. I wasn't late this time. Might or might not have contributed to how pleasant the teacher was this time around.

Mr. Collins was the very opposite of everything the Calculus teacher stood for.

"Welcome, Andrea Schaeffler!" He boomed when I stepped into the classroom.

I was taken aback, and it must have shown in my face.

"Before you step in, I want you to forget anything you may ever have learnt in past Literature classes. I can assure you, my class is VERY different from what you probably have in mind."

"Okay..."

Mr. Collins broke into a wide smile. "Go take a seat anywhere, Andrea Schaeffler."

I was one of the first people to arrive in that class. I took the seat closest to the door, I didn't need to think twice, neither need I be told twice.

I'd taken Literature before, but it was taught by some old woman who never paid attention to our attendance. I, as someone who believed that opportunity never knocks twice, accepted her disregard for the attendance list as a blessing from the Lord and... skipped more classes than I attended. Needless to say, my Literature was shit.

Mr. Collins said that I had come at the right time, because the class was going to watch Antony and Cleopatra today - "a version of the many adaptations of this beautiful play", quote unquote.

I would wish to go into detail about my two other classes, Physics and Chemistry. But really, they were sad. I sat alone in all of my classes, barely paid attention and constantly found my eyes on the clock, urging time to speed up.

I didn't want to admit this to myself, but... okay. I was lonely. I am lonely.

That afternoon, I forced myself to explore the extra-curricular activities this school had to offer. I figured this was something successful and all-rounded kids partook in.

It took some navigation and some kindness from other students, but I did eventually locate the notice board dedicated to flyers pertaining to after-school activities. It came as no surprise to me that this school offered a plethora of extracurricular activities.

I found myself signing up for the Astronomers’ club. Then, for additional measure and just for the sake of spicing my resume up, I joined the Chess club as well.

I felt satisfied with myself when I returned to my room. I guess solitude’s a bearable thing when you’re busy distracting yourself with small victories.

For the lack of better things to do, I whipped out the rule book and began reading. I came to realization that we were allowed to leave on weekends, which was only a mildly interesting piece of information because it wasn't like I had anywhere to go.

I then reached the section that covered 'misconduct'.

Apparently, bringing someone of the opposite gender into your hostel would result in immediate suspension. I entertained the notion of having Jaxon in my room, but I dispelled the mental image as soon as it popped into my head.

By evening, I was done with the entire volume of rules. Big feat, considering the length. But then I realized this was no feat at all, because my afternoon spent in solitude was only a testament to how friendless I was at this place.

I couldn't help but laugh, sardonically. Mother had said I would be amidst people of my kind.

Who could have guessed that in the span of a few years, I had strayed so far from my kind that I was now beyond help. Not even 'people of my kind' wanted to be near me.

But really, I couldn't fathom why people at Richmond Park avoided me like plague. I'd been nothing but nice, not a single expletive thus far. I never flaunted my wealth, I never imposed myself on anyone's plans.

I didn't understand.

I dedicated my next hour to YouTube tutorials about Calculus.

And then Marc breached contact. For the first time in five days.

I blinked at first, not daring to believe my own eyes. When I was certain that my eyes weren't playing tricks, I accepted his video call request, ensuring first and foremost that both boobs were obscured by the thick blanket.

I didn't know what to expect when I accepted the video call. I adjusted the position of my laptop to get a better view of myself in the webcam.

For a few heartbeats, neither of us could find out tongues - we couldn't find words. All that was present was an ache to feel Marc, to be in his arms.

"I fucking miss you," I said at the same time he uttered my name.

It brought a smile to my lips. The first genuine smile in five days.

Marc was calling me on his phone, I could tell that he was outside, and he was walking. I watched him - no, the screen wasn't big enough for me to absorb all of him - his hair, the brown mass atop his head swayed to his footsteps. He was walking on the streets, I could hear the whirring of passing cars, I could see momentary flashes of passing streetlights.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

"To kill that cunt Patrick. I've had enough."