JUDE'S ALARM goes off at five in the morning.

She wakes up at seven. I'm a light sleeper and an alarm as loud as that shook me to the cores and made sure that it'll have a lasting effect on me. I can still hear it ring in my ears as I wear my school uniform. There's always been a proper dresscode here, and there's a strict rule that we can't wear any accessories but it's Redville and the council's loose as fuck—as long as you're in your shirt and your skirt or trousers, nobody gives a fuck.

We share a bathroom so I can hear the music Jude's put on to keep herself awake while I comb my hair in front of the mirror. When I'm done, I take a step back and look at my face. My hair is open, my brown wavy combed out curls resting neatly on my shoulder. I take in a deep breath before stepping out.

"Morning, roomie," Jude says. She's trying to sound cheerful but it looks like she's hungover. Is she hungover? I didn't think she'd be the kind of girl to go out and get hammered but whatever, I guess I was wrong when I assumed that about her.

"You got drunk or something?"

Jude smiles sheepishly. "You can tell?"

"You look like it." I knew there were third years around, offering alcohol to people as discreetly as they could. Even I got the offer but I don't really drink. Plus, the last thing I want to do is numb my senses on my first night at a place like this. There are no teachers in the dorm complex, after all. It's where most of the drama happens.

We don't hold any small talk. She closes the bathroom door behind her. I check the time—I'm way early than I should be and I've got nothing to do. I grab my bag and my tablet, making my way downstairs to the common room. There's next to no people around here at this hour. School starts at nine today. I take a chair next to the window, keeping my bag next to my feet. I tap the tablet open and it shows my home screen, with my name, face and rank on it.

I decide to explore the students around here a little. I've done enough research before stepping my foot in the premises but no amount of preparation is ever going to be enough.

On the top of Serpens is Tanya Mehta. He's a guy with a olive skin tone, dark brown hair and brown eyes. In his picture, his lips are curled up in a playful smile, showing off his dimples. It's an yearbook picture, I think, since he's in uniform in the picture. The gap between him and the second ranker isn't that big, but maintaining that while being a third year student is a big deal.

I click on the profile Lacerta's leader. It's a girl this time, named Stacy Evans. She's got long blond hair and light eyes and skin, a slight smile on her face. She seems like the model student, sincere and handworking but I know not to go on looks when it comes to students around here.

I move on to Cepheus, led by a guy named Nathan Andrews. He looks like a troublemaker—that's for sure. But then again, he's at Redville. Of course he's a trouble maker. He has tanned skin and wavy brown hair, his smile contagious. I've heard his name around here a lot and come to the conclusion that he's a playboy for real, someone you need to be careful of when it comes to your heart.

With a sigh, I come to the last house. Delhpinus—Asher Hale. Top of the house, top of the entire third year, and therefore top of the entire school. He's the student council president with a cocky personality. I take in a deep breath, maintaining my calm. I remember our conversation last night as I closed my tablet, staring outside the window.

"What's this for?"

"For good luck. You're gonna need a lot of that if you want to get through this year."

That was a threat. I know that for sure. Once again the realisation that none of this is going to be easy hits me but it doesn't make me scared. It makes me thrilled. The rush of adrenaline through my body jolts the small amount of sleep in my body and I'm up again.

Even though it's going to be tough as fuck, I can gaurantee that it's going to be so much fun.

***

AS I enter the classroom, I find that there's only one guy in here, sitting in the front resting his head on his palm as he leans forward. He wears a thin dull gray sweater over his uniform and his eyes are closed, his dirty blond hair definitely not combed through. I didn't see him in the dorm or at the party last night but I recognise him from the list I went through this morning.

Elliot Rousseau. Rank forty seven. Music.
He's not the strongest academically if we go by his scores on the entrance but certainly above average. His music skills–I guess they're good since he ranked two on his programme's practicals.

I take the seat on the back, looking out of the window, knowing that it's only a few minutes of silence before everyone comes bustling in. I know I'm right because I see the students of my house entering the building in a group. I brace myself, quickly going through everything I'm supposed to do and tucking it in the corner of my mind.

Students enter the room and take their seats. Most sit with the people they're rooming with. Jude sits with a girl named Hayette Fetcher, the two of them talking and laughing loudly, surrounded by many other girls from our class. They're the social butterflies of our class, I guess.
Slowly, the chatter takes a turn and the subject becomes the homeroom teacher.

"I bet he's crazy," one of the guys says. "I heard he expelled a student without any reason last year."

"Wait, isn't he the guy who had a wholeass board meeting held against him because he expelled half of his class because of some catfishing scandal two years ago?"

"Damn, right. That made the news, didn't it? I don't know if that was true. What's his name again? Crescent or something? Something like the moon right?"

During this, Elliot had seated himself next to me, his hands folded across his chest as he lets out a bored yawn. Good to know someone's as disinterested in all this gossip as I am. Right then, there's a knock on the open door. The whole class goes quiet in an instant as they stare at the man standing there wearing a white shirt and black trousers, leaning against the doors with an amused expression on his face. He looks like he's in his mid thirties or something and I recognise him as well–Kalen Credence. Homeroom teacher, Serpens, a Redville School of Arts graduate. He went on to work in business before getting a job right here.

"Glad I got your attention. You're a tough batch, aren't you? Dumb and mindless." He strolls inside the class, taking his place behind the teacher's podium in the front. He leans against it as the class silently finds places to sit. Once everyone's seated, he eyes each student carefully with looks that can easily kill.

A few moments later, he lets out a chuckle. "You're not dumb or mindless. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. And if you somehow are, I'm going to wish you luck. You can't get by in Redville if you keep your mind narrowed down to petty gossip. If you're so into gossip, think beyond it. There's more to life than some petty rumours."

He slaps his hand down on the podium, making a bang sound. If anyone wasn't paying attention to him, they certainly were now. There's a deadly look in his eyes, a playful smile on his face. Are the teachers here just as bad as the students? Because if they were, I wouldn't be surprised.

"I'm Kalen Credence. I go by they or them pronouns. And now that I've said it out loud and clear to all of you, I'd like you all to avoid midgendering me. Are we clear?" His—their—eyes dart around but gets no response. They close them, taking in a deep breath. Then, in a louder voice, they repeat themself. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," we all respond.

"Very well, then. Let's begin."

They take a step back, grabbing a stylus from the podium and turning their back to us. They write a single word on the board—winner.

"Winner," they say out loud. "Who can tell me what the word winner means?"

"Someone who wins?" says a girl in the first seat, Hayette Fetcher, her british accent evident in her voice.

Kalen shrugs. "Good enough. Give me the synonyms."

"Victor," Hayette says.

"Champion?" Leo tries.

"Star."

"Titleholder."

"The best."

"Unbeatable."

Kalen holds up a hand. The class falls silent. "Unbeatable. That's wrong. A winner can win a game, but also lose a hundred others. A winner can be arrogant after a win, only to have that arrogance shattered after a loss. And the best? A winner isn't the best. The best is the one who tries to do better despite being called the best. You become the best when you keep exploiting the expectations of others and your own potential to achieve the peak of what you can do. And how do you know it's your best? How do you know you're at the peak?"

Once again, they're greeted by silence. They look at us expectantly.

"No one? I'm not surprised." They let out a laugh. "You know you're at your peak when you go past your breaking point. When you fall from the peak and climb up again. When you break but build yourself up again. When you are not scared anymore. When you are not arrogant, but confident in your abilities. Do you guys know the difference between arrogance and confidence? I mean, I'm sure you guys know that, but can any of you word it out for me? Any of you?"

The expectant silence rises up again. Nobody replies, but judging by Kalen's expression, I'm sure they anticipated this. They let out another laugh, then shake their head, resting their hands on the podium again. They eye each one of us—I bet they have memorised our names and faces—and then looks down.

"Redville is a place for quality education, you guys. You're all first years. You're all new here. You are fascinated, you are amazed, you are dazzled, even, and I get it. I understand all of you right now. Redville is the place for the best of the best, but it's also a place where you will face immense pressure. It's something that's never told to you officially but it's also well understood. You will not make it if you are not up for competition.

"Redville makes creators, artists, innovators, leaders. You can either be an arrogant leader, or a confident leader. I won't tell you the difference between the two because it's better if you learn it on your own. So, here's my advice, Serpens first years—focus on yourself. Focus on your work. Focus on your art. Focus on your sport. Focus on what you are really here for. The gossip will be here always, it will try to bring others down, it will put pressure on you—it's all a part of the Redville experience. You can't do anything but focus on what's important and only you can decide what matters. It's hard to stay away from it all, I know, and I'm not asking you to stay away from it. What I'm asking you to do is to be careful not to dig too deep, be careful not to sink too deep into all of this.

"That being said, the rumours about me that have been going around for ages in none of your business. If you want to play with news, focus on the present because learning about what happened one, two, three, four, ten years ago? It's not going to help you progress any further because as I said, Redville makes creators, artists, leaders and all that crap and the only ones who matter are the ultimate winners. Do you get it? No matter the process, just be sure to make a name. That's the point of it all."

***

THE EFFECT and buzz of Kalen's opening speech dies down soon enough. We didn't study today but Kalen did explain the entire curriculum to us in detail. They mentioned that the club activities will begin next week and this week will be dedicated entirely to settling in and academic planning. They also put up a major event circular on our tablet group chat which covered the events that happened every single year. The most anticipated and interesting one of them all was the two week vacation that was only available for three of the four houses—there was competition for a goddamn vacation as well.

The bell rings for the break and chatter breaks out. Kalen sits at the teacher's table, giving us all permission to leave the class now. The class empties out in a matter of moments. Elliot glances back at me before letting himself out, greeting Kalen before he does so. I get up at last and walk towards the door.

"Harley, one second, please," Kalen calls out. I turn around and they flash a kind smile, gesturing me to walk over. I stand beside their table as they takes out a sheet of paper. "You're the first ranker. I'm not going to ask you how you did that because I'm sure many students already have so I'll spare you with that."

"Thank you," I mutter. They push the paper towards me. "What's this?"

"Read it."

CLASS REPRESENTATIVE ALLOTMENT DOCUMENT

"Class representative?"

"Yes," they reply. "The top scorer from every class becomes the class representative every year. You're the first choice for that, I mean. You, Ana Vorklov, Atlas Ariti and Rhett Carter are going to be the first year representatives this year. You need to sign this document to finalise the position."

I press my lips together. "But what if I want to decline the position?"

If they weren't already amused, they sure were now. Not shocked—just surprised. "You're the first one to say so. If you decline the position, the offer will drop down to the second in class. Julian Santos."

"Alright. Then I'll decline this offer."

"Sure," they say, "but may I ask why?"

"I don't think I'm fit for the leadership role."

"You don't think?" they echo my words. "You don't even want to try this out, do you, Harley? I think you should. It will be good for you. You have the skills. You have the brains."

But I lack the will to do so, I mentally say. I look in their eyes and realise they aren't really giving me the choice to do so. They just said it for the sake of saying it but in reality, they want me to take this up just as much as I want to deny this.

"Why do you want me to take this up?"

"Because," Kalen begins, "it's just not you who's going to benefit from this role. You'll get the experience, of course, but the others will benefit as well."

I raise my eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

They shake their head, sighing. "I read your high school file, Harley. They have recommended you to take up a leadership role in future because you are good for it. I gave you a choice and asked the reason, but the reason you gave me is not valid. Running away from responsibilities is not something you are taught here at Redville and as your first lesson, I choose you as the class representative." They tap on the paper and keep a pen over it, pointing where my signature is needed. "Sign here, please."

I bite my lip. They knew what I'd say. Even though I can walk away right now, I heard the challenge in their voice. I've never been one to run away from a challenge so I grab the pen, reading through the entire document once. When I'm done signing, I take a step back. Kalen's eyes are still on me, curious and cautious at the same time.

"I wonder what kind of a leader you'd be, Harley. A confident one, or an arrogant one?"

"I guess we'll see." I flash a smile their way. I start to walk away but stop at the door, glancing back. "The difference between confidence and arrogance lies in reality."

I turn completely, leaning against the door. They didn't expect me to say this—it's on their face.

"Confidence is about the realistic sense of one's abilities. Arrogance is exaggerated. Show off. You can know when a person is faking it or being humble about their achievements."

Kalen laughs, clapping their hands together. "That's right. The devil is in the details."

I smile back.

The devil's in the details.