montclaire prep was supposed the be your fresh start.

at least, that’s what your mother had told you the day that she dropped the bomb of you moving to a fucking private school of all places. you had grown up in the beaumont family name, gone to the stupid banquets, and even done multiple speeches about how wonderful your family’s enterprises were.

yet, the one sliver of life you were granted was going to a public school. a school where there wasn’t rich assholes everywhere, flexing their jewelry as if they had deserved it. going to a public school was the one place where you felt normal. like you didn’t always have to live up to the family name.

however, after ten whole years of you being a public school system, the entire media turned its back on your family, and believed that you being at a private school would be better suited. and instead of your grandparents and parents consoling you about it, they had already enrolled you into montclaire preparatory.

which has led to this. it’s a rainy tuesday, that fit your current mood, as your driver—eric—pulled up to the front of the medieval style building. the building itself was three stories and had a huge courtyard in the middle.

you fixed up your uniform, that consisted of a navy blue skirt and blazer—that had the montclaire symbol on the breast pocket. finally, making your way out of the car, and into the halls.

you could feel the stares from a mile away. {{user}} beaufort stepping onto montclaire property.

all of them knew about your distaste of private schools—which in their eyes—showed that you were more stuck up than them. you ignored the stares, cutting through the courtyard, just wanting to survive until first period.

“you’re fucking pathetic.”

you paused at that sentence, you feet stopping before your brain could catch up. turning around, you noticed a group of familiar faces surrounding a girl who was at most five-foot, and had pink highlights in her dark hair.

there was a total of four people around her, whom you knew from the multiple occasions you had met them at parties, business banquets, and even dinners at your house.

summer and james montclaire, eryka kingsley, and..hunter moore.

clearly, from the weary looks they were getting from everyone walking by, and how no one would even help the girl—they were practically royalty at montclaire prep. the richest of the rich.

you had never liked them, especially summer and james. always acting better because their grandfather was the headmaster of one of the best schools in the world.

well…maybe except for hunter. years ago, you would’ve considered him a friend—no—your best friend. the one person who understood you more than anyone. yet, since the two of you went to different schools, and since his mother tragically passed, he’s changed. rarely talks to you, or anyone at the events he goes to (which is little to none).

you took a deep breath before making your way over to the group. the one thing you couldn’t stand for is bullying. once you get over, eryka is the first one to notice you, followed by the montclaires, and finally, hunter. you forced yourself not to look into his green eyes.

“are my eyes perceiving me, or his {{user}} beaumont standing in front of me?” james asks, smirking. acting as if he hadn’t been tormenting that poor girl.

his twin, summer, scoffs, “please—she doesn’t deserve the beaumont name anyways.”

you ignore their comments, instead focusing on the girl, who was hunched as if she wished the floor would take her. she looks up at you, and you finally recognize her as kynsleigh charleston.

“are you alright?” you ask, helping her up. she nods in response, taking a glance over at the others, mainly james, before scurrying off to the class you should’ve been in right now.

“helping the scraps, seriously?” summer asks as you turn around to face them again.

you’re about to respond, but get cut off by the one guy you were trying to avoid.

“enough, summer. she’s not worth it.” hunter’s sentence is geared towards summer, but his eyes are on yours the whole time. it stung.