I TRUST my own views on the world more than the others'.

In the limited sixteen and a half years of my life, I've pushed myself to excellence in every field I've tried my hand at. The time isn't much but I'm pretty sure I know just as much as the teachers around me. The reason for such behaviour was never fueled by a competitive spirit but I sure developed one as I grew. I'm not arrogant, I'm just confident in what I do and what I believe in. In conclusion, I can say for sure that I never lose. I'm way ahead of the students in my year because I've worked harder than any of them. I've kept at it for years and that's why I win in everything I put my efforts in.

That being said, when I gave the entrance for the Redville School of Arts, I had no doubts I'd get in. Every question I had attempted was one hundred percent correct. I knew every question that was there on the test and had a lot of time left but my hand had given in and I'd left an entire section. That was okay, though, since I'd never intended on scoring one hundred percent. I just had to get enough to get in. Getting their attention? I could've done that just by my practical marks.

Cutting to the end of the story, I did get in.

And surprise, surprise, despite the number of questions I had left unattempted, I still managed to score hundred percentile easily. Hundred percentile—ninty six percent. I ranked first in the entire first year. If that wasn't what would get everyone's attention, the next part certainly would.

There were two things that made me stand out:

I'd broken all records. The highest score had been set by Diego Matias four years ago—that was eighty six percent.

The gap between the second ranker and I was fourteen percent. I've done it again. He's someone named Rhett Carter and I've probably shattered his ego in a million pieces.

I know he's in the auditorium with me right now. I don't know what he looks like just the way no one else knows what I look like. I'm thankful for that, honestly, because then it just wouldn't be the students glaring daggers and awe in my direction—it would be the parents and relatives as well. You need to have a parent or a guardian at the orientation and some people bring their entire extended family to this place. My dad's busy with work and Redville's the last place my mom wants to be in. I'm sitting next to Seb, my twenty eight year old therapist cousin who is probably the person most against me being here at this school but he's here alright, worried.

"You know, there's still a chance you can back out," he says to me, his voice low. We are sitting in the back rows which are comparatively empty. Orientations are shit anyways. They just keep on repeating the same thing that's written on the brochure. It's annoying.

"I don't want to talk, Seb."

He lets out a sigh but doesn't say anything further.

Being twelve years older than me, we've never really had the typical sibling relationship. When I was younger, it was a babysitter-kid relationship. When I entered my teens, he tried to convince me to get out of my books and do something. We were pretty okay then, having movie nights once in a while since he lived with us. Later on, especially during the past year, our relationship has taken more of a professional turn. He sees me as nothing but a patient. I see him as an annoying pest that bugs me all the time instead of my brother.

"We, at Redville, the chairman, Arlo Liamme, says, "aim to provide you with the best possible education and resources to help you pursue your ambition and beat the competition that you will face in the outside world. It is one of the only high schools in the world that will put equal amounts of focus in academics, sports as well as the art form of your choice. The courses here will help you decide what you really want to pursue in your lives during the next three years."

I wonder how many times he's said these words standing at the same spot on the stage. I wonder if there are changes and whether people actually listen to him speak. He continues to talk for a while, talking about this school and all its previous achievements.

"I'll now hand over the mic to Miss Roma, who will guide the family for dispersal and escort the students to the dorm complex."

Almost all of us have gotten the campus tour early in the morning. The few late students won't get it again, of course. You can't be late at a place like this.

A skinny blonde walks to the centre of the stage, taking over the mic. She wears her hair up in a bun, a black pencil skirt and a coat underneath which is an ironed out white shirt. She looks elegant but stern at the same time. Exactly the type of woman I would expect to work at a place like this.

"I'd like all parents and family of the students to get up and disperse from the two doors at the back of the auditorium," she says and that's it. A chatter breaks in the crowd, disturbing the silence that had been in the air for the past hour and a half.

Seb gets up from his seat with a sigh. "So that's it, then? You don't need me anymore?"

"I don't," I confirm.

"So we are back there? I'll keep calling you and you won't even pick up?" He taps the screen of his phone open. He's late as it is. He shouldn't be delaying his work to stay here with me trying to start a pointless conversation. "Listen, Harley—"

"Seb," I cut him off as calmly as I can, though my temper's at its peak. I'm usually a patient person but Austin's been testing it for weeks now. "I don't need you. I'm sorry to say this to you but I don't need you. I wanted you to come here with me because my parents won't. That's literally it. You've done your part. Let me do mine."

He laughs tauntingly. "Your part? What are you here for, Harley? Are you gonna ever tell me that?"

"I'm here to study."

"To study?"

"And to dance."

"You hate dance, Harley. Who are you lying to?" He's about to snap as well but I've got control of the situation.

"We don't always have to love the things we do. Weren't you the one who taught me that?" I retort. "One of the first sessions we had. You said that to me. You said that to me even before we had our first session. In fact, you've said it to me so many times that I've lost count and it's embedded in my mind. Please leave, Seb. Let me be away from everyone for a while."

"You really hate me that much, huh?" He's always been a drama queen.

I don't hate him but I don't say that to him. I know that if I say that, he'll just continue the conversation.

He stares at me for a while before exhaling. He's given up. He walks past me as slow as he can. Once he's past me, he throws one last glance to me.

"Goodluck, Harley. You'll need it."

And that's it. Just like that, he's out of here. A few minutes later while the parents are still dispersing, my phone vibrates with a notification. It's from Seb, of course, it had to be him.

I won't give up on you. Promise that you'll call me if things go wrong.

I don't reply.

+++

IT TAKES about twenty minutes for the family members to disperse. The students have started to get up and talk to each other, smiles on their face. They talk to each other as if they won't be stabbing each other in their backs in a few weeks. I've read about this place. I've seen youtube videos. Heck, I know people who've been here and they've clearly said it to me—make friends, but don't trust them easily. And I get it. At a place like Redville where students get off because of the competition, it's easier for them to ditch the others. I'd ditch others too. It's just simpler that way.

"It's all bullshit, isn't it?" someone said next to me. I look in the direction of the sound. It's a girl in the Redville uniform—the black blazer, black skirt, plain white t-shirt and a black tie. Her hair is tied in a pony, her eyes on the stage where Roma stands, conversing with someone about god knows what. "They repeat the whole thing every fuckin' year, probably."

"I'm pretty sure they do," I say. "It's all written in the brochure."

"Exactly." She stretches her hand. "You're a dance student, aren't you? I saw you that day. During the practicals. I had a vibe you'd get in, you know. You had that focused energy. The one practically screaming 'stay out of my face or I'll beat your ass'. I don't remember your name, though. It was something like Lee, wasn't it?"

Goddamn, she talks fast. "Yeah. And it's Harley."

She pauses for a second and faces me, eyeing me up and down, her face morphing in an expression of amusement. "Kingsley? You're the Harley Kingsley? The first ranker?"

"Yep." I flash a quick smile. "And I'd kinda appreciate it if you kept it low." She'd been pretty loud. I can see a couple students turning to look at me.

"Sorry," she mutters a half hearted apology. "I get excited quickly. I'm Rhea, by the way. Rhea Dalton. Dance student too so we're gonna see each other a lot from now on, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess so." I didn't see her on the practical day. But then again, I don't think I saw anyone that day. I get pretty self absorbed when I'm about to dance. My sister used to say that a lot. I learnt that from her.

The conversation ends there. She goes on her phone and I look at the stage, where a couple other people stand as well. I think they're all students, wearing their red stringed identity cards around their neck with casual wear. They aren't any of the well known ones, otherwise, I would've known who they were.

A few minutes later, Roma takes up the mic again. "I'd like all students to come in the front and sit close to each other so that it's easier to complete the registration procedure." Hearing her give the active permission to move, the students start to talk even more as they get up and move to the front. Rhea doesn't say a word but waits for me. I sit between a blond guy and Rhea. I can see the people with the IDs more clearly now—they're definitely students.

"Settle down, now. Don't miss a word of what I'm about to say. It's important and most likely will not be repeated for you again." She clears her throat. "You will now be given a tablet issued by Redville. There will be a fine if you lose or break it, of course, but right now, all of you need to register and create a profile."

The volunteers start to pass out the tablets carefully. I receive mine and the moment I hold it, a soft beep goes off and the screen comes to life, scanning my face for a few seconds before the text shows up on the screen.

Harley Kingsley

Rank: 1

Program: Dance

Current Score: 480

Please enter your e-mail ID and mobile number to finish the process.

I enter my e-mail and mobile number and it instantly shows me a list of students. Faces begin to appear alongside their names as they register. In just a matter of moments, I can feel the others look at me. The blond right next to me shifts and leans against the other armrest, his eyes on me. I almost want to look at him and snap but I don't.

A collective beep from each tablet draws their attention back to themselves.

All the students have now registered on their tablets. It's loading again, the screen saying 'Please wait as we assign you the houses'.

A second later, a dark brown colour covers the screen and the text appears white.

SERPENS

"The word that just appeared on your screen is the house that you belong to. There are four houses in total—you have probably seen their names around the campus a few times. Lacerta, Cepheus, Delphinus, Serpens—they're your identity for the next few years. You will be living with your seniors of the same dorms as them. Right now, you will be escorted separately as well." Roma pauses for a second, letting us all take in the information. "Tap on your screen and you'll see who's on the same house as you. There will be a ranking list there as well and you'll be able to see who your seniors are. You may not be able to see their scores because after the first year, you get the option to hide your score."

I tap on my screen. A list of students appears. From what I can guess at the moment, they are all randomly allotted. I can't say much before I go through the list properly, of course.

"You got Serpens?" Rhea says.

I nod, turning my tablet towards her. "You?"

"Lacerta. It would've been cool as fuck if we were both in the same house."

It wouldn't matter, I want to say but don't.

Roma goes on to explain the stuff about the dormitories and houses. She tells us about the tablet and how to use it. There are chatrooms for each program where only the teachers can post announcements. Rankings and scores will be updated every Sunday. The tablet will help us keep track of all the events happening at Redville and therefore it is important for us to regularly check it. All the tournaments and their results will be announced publicly on the platform.

Once she's done talking about how things will work around here, she takes a step back, a satisfied expression on her face.

"Last thing, there will be a welcome party in the campus tonight. Not organised by the school but by your seniors. Your presence there is optional, of course, but it's a good chance to socialise and get to know who you'll be spending most of the time with. The timings for the party are six to eight."

There's a concluding tone in her voice. That is it, then. The orientation had finally come to an end after a few torturous hours.

"You will now be escorted to your dormitories. Welcome to Redville School of Arts, first years. I wish you luck for your time here."