Chapter 3

RICHMOND PARK ACADEMY lived up to its name.

The first thing that caught my eye was the brightness.

It wasn't the people, the enormity of campus itself, nor the grandiose sense of achievement this institution wore like a badge. It wasn't the way their trees shot upwards, ending where the heavens begun. No, it was the pure brilliance of color that resided in every nook and cranny of the building.

The pillar to my right was the color of sand; The brick exterior seemed to fade into the gigantic firmament above. Even the black of the wrought iron fence was a color so vivid that I could make out the pores on the windows.

I couldn't help but halt in my tracks to gaze at the place I would frequent for the next year. It was my first time seeing this place outside magazines and newspaper clippings - it felt like someone had flipped a switch whilst I stood in a dark room. For everything glistened with color more vibrant than anything I'd seen this morning.

When had color become so intense - and why? Had the color of the airport been this exuberant? All I could see was beauty.

Until I tripped on the cobblestone and nearly broke my wrist. And caught the attention of three figures on horseback.

"Wow, equestrian," I muttered to myself. "Stupid rich school."

My butler, who was paces ahead didn't even notice my predicament. I plucked myself from the ground and flashed a thumbs up at the people on horseback. They rode in the opposite direction after being assured that some girl didn't die on their rich school grounds.

I dusted my long sleeved, ankle length dress that Grandmother picked specially for me. Good Lord. I reminded myself that I would only be here for a year. What I wear and how I defined myself shouldn't matter too much.

I was here for an education. More importantly, I was here for the good grades and whatever 'self-respect and respecting others' thing that my mother promised.

I expected many things of this school, I didn't expect to walk into the entirety of Richmond Park's staff - this is what I assume them to be, at least - at the entrance of the administration office.

"Miss Andrea Schaeffler?" A woman in a pantsuit with an elaborate up-do broke into a warm smile. One that exuded warmth and welcome.

I nodded, slowly. "That's me."

"Andrea, I am Principal Walters, and on behalf of the founders and chairpeople of this institution, I would like to welcome you to Richmond Park Academy."

"Thank you," I managed to say in a gracious voice.

My eyes were wide in bewilderment. I could only rationalize that my father must have made a fat donation to Richmond Park Academy. I hoped a constipated sneer wouldn't rear it's ugly head by accident. I knew my father meant well, but I resented the way he's always trying to make life 'easier' for me.

"Could we get you some tea?"

I smiled back. "It's quite alright, Principal Walters. I was wondering if I could perhaps, just retire to my... accommodations," my voice raised in polite enquiry.

"Why, of course. I will personally have my daughter escort you to the female accommodations."

Principal Walters stepped aside to reveal the only person in uniform amidst the staff. This female had a megawatt smile, the kind that hinted to the more intuitive population that she was a closeted bitch. I instinctively became aware of the fact that this female’s gotta be someone who collects dangerous secrets in the non-existent gaps of her commercial-worthy teeth.

"Hello! I'm Chelsea," she beamed at me. "Your bags have been delivered to your room. I could show you around campus first, if you want to!"

She wore her blond hair in a high ponytail, adorned her ears with a pair of diamonds. She was clad in what I assumed to be the uniform. I had a chance to inspect their uniform on my brief flight to this part of the country. I felt fortunate to arrive to the conclusion that their uniforms looked better in real life.

Or maybe, it just has to do with the person wearing it. Chelsea was pretty, the kind of beauty that was effortless and natural. I tailed behind her with my own visage that left something to be desired. I wish I had to confidence to parade around without false lashes and blood red lips.

Chelsea halted in her tracks to turn around. Her smile was warm, as she waited for me to catch up.

"Magical place, huh? Trust me, I've been here for two years and I still catch myself lost in the beauty of this place. There's so much to soak in. Like I said, magical place."

I shrugged. I couldn't conjure up something appropriate that wouldn't betray my new identity. I hated pleasantries and false niceties. I wasn’t a fake person, and I hope I never turn into one.

"So," Chelsea started. "Female dorms, right?"

"Yeah, whatever."

The next part of the journey was in silence. I didn't know what to think. It wasn't my intention to make the situation awkward. But my hands were sweaty. My throat had a lump. My court shoes looked ridiculous. I looked like something out of a convent. I was aware of the steadily growing attention of the student body. Hushed whispers and my esteem don't go well at all.

I sped up my steps, forcing Chelsea to speed hers up too.

Things took a 180° turn when we arrived at the next block. Out of nowhere, I was dragged into a room and found myself pinned against a wall with more brute force than required. The perpetrator, it wasn't Chelsea. At least, not directly Chelsea. The blood in my veins turned to concrete.

By the time I caught my breath, I found myself face-to-face with a large physiqued male. He was muscular, and he grunted when I tried to struggle out. I gave up. My eyes searched for Chelsea. No point in paying attention to the human meat. It was obvious as day that Chelsea was the one who barked orders to it.

I eventually spotted Chelsea, taking a seat on one of the desks. She was releasing her hair from the constraints of a hair tie. The girl rolled her eyes, dusted her uniform before realizing that I was staring directly at her. And I wasn't impressed.

She put on a wide smile.

I don't know why, but I wasn't in the slightest bit shocked. It perhaps had to do with overexposure to fake people. The emulation of a genuine person is never perfectly executed. Chelsea was sloppy in the sense she smiled too widely in pursuit of congeniality.

That and my complicated childhood that taught me to expect unexpected barbaric advances from fellow humans.

"Chelsea, let me go," I tried to make my voice sound level.

I vowed to be a better student. This included keeping my temper in check, despite strong urges to cuss the fuck out of this Chelsea - and then get her mother fired from this institution just to put a cherry on top. I took in a deep breath.

"Allow me to first impart a few things, Andrea Schaeffler, since you clearly missed Orientation Night. I don't know what you expected coming to Richmond Park Academy. But let me tell you, this place is not like any other boarding schools in the country. It's what makes Richmond Park special."

She paused to smile widely.

"We have a hierarchy here. You'll get to know it if you can get someone knowledgeable to explain it to you. I'm sure people from your faction would have no trouble explaining."

"Faction?" I echoed. "What?"

"Oh, yes. We divide students here into factions. Financial status plays a very small role in this place. So, Andrea, despite your daddy's million dollar donation, you are still under the jurisdiction of your faction leader, along with everyone above him or her."

"What?" I managed to ask again.

Human Meat had loosened his grip. I could knee him and pop his eyeballs out if I so tried - five years with bad kids taught me a thing or two about self defence. In light of my desire to be a newly changed person, however, I did none of that.

"Oh, it's not all bad. It's a functional egalitarian-to-an-extent way of keeping everyone in check. By everyone, I mean closet anarchists. I could go into detail about the history of our hierarchical system, but you can do that in your own time, if you care enough to research," Chelsea paused to hop off the desk she was seated upon.

"The important thing to note is that, this system has made Richmond Park Academy a model institution to others. Fun fact, Richmond Park Academy has the longest holding bully-free record in the country."

I gestured at Human Meat who was strangling me, silently refuting her statement.

"Oh, let her go, Aaron," Chelsea said offhandedly. "I think she understands that she is no better than anyone in this school. So she has shoved her gold bar back up her ass and will start responding to my pleasantries in a humane manner. Right, Andrea?"

"Yes. Sorry." I said begrudgingly, as the sweet temptation of ruining these people's lives tickled my thoughts dangerously. I dispelled all ideas concerning such a negative resolve. Focused on my one and only aim at this place: good grades, self-respect and respect for others.

I tried not to look too annoyed as Chelsea led me out of the empty classroom.

"So, where were you from again?" She asked in a bubbly voice.

I answered her this time, pleasantly. We went back and forth like that for a painfully long time, until we reached the female hostels and she showed me to my room. At which point, I shot her my last constipated smile before disappearing behind the timber door.

I ensured that Chelsea's footsteps were far enough from my room before I let out a long stream of expletives. When I was done, I surveyed the room.

As promised, it was a room made for one person. Meaning, no pesky roommate - which was to my benefit. I stripped the long dress and kicked the forsaken court shoes off. Clad in undergarments, I took a walk around the space that I would call 'home' for the next year.

It wasn't a huge space, definitely not by my standards. But it had a private bathroom, a double bed, a cupboard, a desk and something of a makeshift kitchen complete with a mini fridge and a microwave. My room was located on the highest floor, which translated into 'no sneaking out through the window'. But it also translated into good view.

I approached the windows, consoling myself that sneaking out as opportunity cost of a good view wasn't too bad. But I knew I was kidding myself. Despite the vista beyond the glass panes of my windows, I found myself looking ground-ward in longing.

I missed home. Missed Marc, Alex, and the entire gang. I even missed the freedom of living in an empty house.

For the past few years, I constructed and reconstructed this… dangerous persona. Guided by self preservation, I did and said things the opposite to what both parents had in mind for me. I had charisma, I had wit, but I was a brash, vulgar and lazy person who tried too hard to make people think that I didn't try.

Marc knew it was some kind of escapism that I partook in to entertain myself. But beyond Marc, not many knew the real me.

All Central High knew was the silver haired girl who wore Marc's clothes (everyone thought we were banging; we weren't) beneath leather jackets, completed with ripped jeans and expensive sneakers. The people who knew I was from wealth were far and few in between. I'd been called a street rat on more occasions than I could count.

But I liked it. I liked knowing things about myself that others didn't know.

Doesn't matter anymore, though. I wasn't silver haired Andie anymore.

The mirror knew as much. A single glance reflected the image of a bespectacled female, freckled and mousy haired. I didn't feel like an Andie anymore. I didn't want to associate Andie the cool kid with this plain Jane of an Andrea.

I allowed myself five minutes to reply to everyone's texts before I began the process of unpacking. It was a process through which I realized that my grandmother had gone all out to replace my clothes with things not even nuns would wear.

Two hours later, I was roaming the halls of the female dorm in a plain T-shirt and sweatpants, the only semi-normal clothes I could find amidst the mass of long sleeved blouses and ankle length skirts.

I chanced upon what appeared to be a lounge. The people within - I say this in the least offensive manner - were all of of Eastern Asian origin. I stopped myself from encroaching into their space, as I fondly recalled the talk about 'factions' I had with Chelsea from Hell. I wondered if this was what a faction looked like.

"Hi," I called out. "Uh, I'm new here."

One of them looked up from their Chinese novel, an expectant expression egging my question on.

"I was just wondering how things worked around here. Could I join you girls or something?"

The girl's expectant expression twisted into something that resembled a frown as she turned to nudge her friend.

"Do you - uh, do you not speak English?"

And then her frown morphed into a deadpanned expression. "What kind of racist question is that, you bigot?"

"Oh," I blinked, caught off-guard and unsure how to react. "Sorry, I... I guess I'll leave now."

"What the heck," another Asian spoke up. "Ignore San, she gets grumpy when you interrupt her when she reads. Welcome to Richmond Park, I can help you find your faction if you want."

My jaw must have dropped or something. See, I didn't want to say the word 'faction' at the risk that Chelsea was trolling me. But now I was certain that 'factions' were a thing in this sick place. My head began filling with questions as the petite female got up from her seat upon a beanbag.

"You can call me Yuki," the girl bowed her head. "You are?"

"I'm Andrea," I said in reply.

Yuki echoed my name. I laughed nervously.

"So, how do things work around here exactly?"

"Which aspect of things? We're just like any other school, but we're a boarding school!"

Yuki had a foreign accent, one I assumed to be Japanese if her name was anything to go by. I would note that her clothes seemed expensive, but everyone in this place seemed to be of affluent origins, so I dispelled the thought.

"The factions thing."

"Ah, that. What do you want to know about factions? Do you know your own?"

I shook my head. "I'm so confused. Are students here separated into factions by ethnicity? How big is a faction? Are we allowed to interact with other factions?"

Yuki... giggled?

"Factions are by personality. On Orientation Night, they make us take a multi-choice questionnaire with, maybe 50 questions. From there, it tells you which faction you belong to. Some factions are naturally bigger than others. We usually do not interact with other factions. It prevents social issues like bullying."

"Oh," I digested everything in, realizing whatever egalitarian system this school had, it was as bad as I thought it was. "You said something about a council. What's that?"

"Oh, they're the Student Council. We're headed for the SCroom now actually."

"The... what?"

"SC-room. Student Council Room, get it?" Yuki giggled.

"Why are we headed there?"

Yuki laid a hand on my lower back, shocking me out of my skin. But turns out I was headed in the wrong direction and she only wanted to lead me in the right path. She laughed at my reaction.

"You are so jumpy," she commented. "This place isn't a bad place. How are you liking it so far?"

I wasn't sure if I should talk about Chelsea, so I kept it in. "It's okay."

The esteemed SCroom was less of a hole in a wall (like I expected it to be) and more of an organized office dedicated to the rulers of this school. Upon entry, I was met with someone seated behind a receptionist desk.

Picture frames of past councils adorned the wall adjacent to the receptionist desk.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Asked a male who barely glanced up from his laptop.

Beside me, Yuki cleared her throat. "Hi, Bryan! Andrea just transferred to Richmond Park."

The male, Bryan looked up from his laptop for the first time. "Say no more. Andrea, make your way down the corridor to my left and look out for the door labelled 'Factions'. It'll be on your right."

"You'll be fine from here, right?" Yuki asked.

"Yes, thank you so much," I flashed her an awkward smile. It made her giggle.

The SCroom which was more of a SCoffice than a SCroom. It had hardwood flooring and large windows that allowed natural sunlight in, insofar as creating a warm atmosphere in this place dominated by probably-cold people.

Abiding by Bryan's instructions, I located the 'Factions' door with relative ease. I knocked before peering in. It wasn't a big room. The first thing I noticed was the two humans entangled in each other's arms, lip locked and heavily petting each other down.

"I'll come back another time," I muttered.

The duo jumped apart at the sound of my voice.

"Christ," the male dragged this syllable out.

The female one was in no rush to regain her composure. "Threesome?"

"She's kidding," the male said flatly. "So sorry you had to walk into that."

The female ran a hand down her male friend's chest.

"Stop, stop," the male brushed the female's hands off. "This needs to stop," he told his partner firmly.

I raised an eyebrow at the exchange. I couldn't help but note that everyone I had encountered in the SCroom had a level of attractiveness that exceeded that of a normal teenager. Including front desk Bryan and the couple before me. It led to the conclusion that the selection of people within the SCoffice was popularity fuelled. I make such a conclusion on grounds that popularity is proportional to one's charisma and attractiveness.

After ten seconds of watching these people smoothen their hair, they lifted their heads to face me with wide smiles - not too different from that of Chelsea's. I began to fear the worst.

"I'm Jaxon and this is - "

"Cassie," the girl cut him off. "Sorry, we don't usually get people walking into the Factions room at this time of the year. I mean, Orientation Night was three weeks ago. Mistyped individuals usually find their way here within the first week."

" - which doesn't excuse our misconduct. I'm terribly sorry you had to walk into that," Jaxon said in a sincere voice.

"Are you new here?" Cassie asked amicably.

"Yes." I nodded.

"Don't worry, we'll help you find your faction. You should feel a lot more at home from there." Cassie grinned as she guided me towards one of the three computers opposite the desk she shared with Jaxon. She booted up a software and it took me a while to learn that the Faction Indicator was computerized.

"I urge you to be as honest as possible," Jaxon said. "Sometimes students try to be someone they're not. They end up feeling alienated. The purpose of separating students into factions is to help everyone find people they can relate to."

As professional as these people were being, I couldn't erase the image of them making out from my mind's eye. I keyed in my name, along with my student ID before I found myself face-to-face with a page of questions.

[1. I’ve gotten into legal or criminal trouble.

> Yes >Yes, but not intentionally > No > No, because I’m good at not getting caught]

It occurred to me that this thing was going to confine the real me to a certain archetype of individuals, AKA I would probably end up with bad kids. I realized I couldn't exactly be honest on this questionnaire. So I began circling in accordance to a very certain kind of friends I was looking for.

When I was done, I waited several moments for the scores to tabulate. At which point, both Jaxon and Cassie had made their way behind me, eyes staring intently at the screen.

"Feels like a Divergent quiz or something," I muttered to myself.

Cassie somehow heard me. "I know, right? That was what I told the council - but here at Richmond Park, tradition is a huge thing. Also they kind of came up with the Faction Indicator before Divergent was written, so yeah."

Finally, my scores revealed itself.

Jaxon made a noise, one that almost sounded... unhappy, as he made his way back to his seat behind the desk.

Cassie clapped her hands from behind me. "Congrats! You're in Faction Five."

"What does that mean?" I asked, knowing fully well it had to be the nerdiest, dorkiest faction on campus.

Cassie patted my shoulders. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough. By 'soon enough', I mean right now. Meet your faction head, Jaxon Ortega."

I spinned my head around, breath catching in my throat when Jaxon's eyes met mine. I barely chanced him a glance moments prior - didn't want to. I didn't feel like I could look anyone in the eye being this bare faced, dressed in such simple clothing.

I was the first one to tear my eyes away. Jaxon was an olive skinned beauty, and he must know this. He'd tightened his jaws, as though aware that he was being checked out. I wished, at that moment more than ever, that I wasn't being constricted to the archetype of a Studious Female Student.

"Just shoot any questions his way. You're three weeks late, just... feel free to spam him with questions. You must have so many!" Cassie went.

"I do." I said. Like how thick is your dick. "Do factions have designated hangout spots?"

"No, why?" Jaxon asked back.

"Oh. I ran into this group of girls at this lounge place - "

"Hangout spots operate on an 'early bird gets the worm' basis. Though you will find that certain factions prefer to dominate certain spots over others. Faction Fivers, for example, enjoy the solace that the library has to offer. Anything else?"

"If I chose not to be with my faction, is that possible?"

"Of course not!" Cassie answered this for me, with slight mortification tinging her feminine features. "Why would anyone? Factions ensure that you are with your kind. Rest assured, you wouldn't be needing the company of people outside your faction. This system helps to prevent things like 'awkward moments' or 'guys pining after girls beyond their leagues'."

"Oh?" I frowned.

Cassie must have took notice of my frown. "I'm exaggerating. Some factions get along with others, some on the other hand, not really."

I took this in with an expression that of someone severely committed to learn.

"But, just saying, it's like an unspoken rule NOT to date people outside your faction."

To highlight her point, she glanced at Jaxon. "This is why you can't tell anyone about what you just saw."

My eyes grew wide.

"Promise right now," she insisted.

"Okay, I promise..." I said, as though I had anyone to tell this incriminating secret to.

"Good." Cassie finally seem appeased. "Anymore questions? Now is the time to ask!"

"Who is Chelsea in this school?"

Jaxon's reaction was interesting. He frowned, then he leaned forward, eyes scrutinizing my face. "Who's Chelsea to you?"

Cassie elbowed Jaxon very unexpectedly. He hissed.

"You're supposed to answer her questions, not ask her another question. She's a newbie!" Cassie chastised her partner. She then turned to face me. "Chelsea is the principal's daughter. She's the president of Student Council. But who cares about Chelsea - the VP is hotter."

"Who is that?"

Cassie's eyes became dreamy. "Oh my. The Vice President, none other than Elias DuPont."

"What factions are they from? Chelsea and Elias I mean."

"Chelsea is like a Faction One, which is the rarest and the best." Cassie said. "Elias is like Faction Eight or something. Oh, his eyes are so pretty. Even Jaxon thinks so."

"Yeah, he makes me a bit gay." Jaxon confirmed in a serious voice.

I took it all in with interest. "Thank you for answering all my questions. I will now be on my way."

Cassie waved enthusiastically. "Have a good day! Oh, and never forget to check your school email for announcements."

Jaxon said, "Most Faction Fivers sit near the window in the cafeteria. Also we have meetings every Tuesday night. Good luck out there."