New significant characters in this chapter: Connor Owens

On the fifth floor, a room led her to a patio style tennis court, hung in midair five floors above the ground. Grunting sounds were the last thing she expected but as she opened the door, she was shocked to see five males beating up a student severely.

Judo. She was great at it. She was also a professional gymnast. She can take them. A few of them at least. She can do the person getting beat up a huge favor and give him a chance to run, and then run right after.

She can do it.

But chose not to.

Girls that are rich don't know how to fight. They have people that do that for them.

She nodded her head and turned to leave.

The click sound of the door closing wasn't at all alarming at first, until she tried to open the door and it wouldn't budge. As she looked at the small machine on the door asking for a pin number, her mind was washed out blank with fear.

Her body reacted by being fully alert. This was bad, she knew it was bad. She could feel the trouble that's coming up. She earnestly wished they wouldn't notice her–that if she kept her back turned, somehow she'll remain invisible.

She looked around. Even though she knew it was very unladylike and not an act a rich person does, she wished for a window she can jump in from. Or at the very least for the patio to have been a little closer to the ground. Even then she could have jumped down it easily, being a gymnast and all.

Luck wasn't on her side. Not even close. The air around her was heavy with moisture as a dreadful feeling licked her spine.

"Who the hell are you?" Someone insisted from behind.

She tried to convince herself that the question wasn't directed at her and decided to stay as she was, the back of a ghost.

"You! By the door!" The thick voice was terrifying. It sounded like one of the sumo wrestlers on TV. Thick and naturally angry.

Her brain took action. She turned slowly, stood straight on her feet and pursed her lips as she stared at the big guy.

Be the unknown. The camouflage they want to see.

"Are you talking to me?" Her voice was so little that for a second, she thought someone else had said what she did.

"Who am I looking at?" Connor Owens spat, his face full of anger.

"Well, I don't know. I mean, you could be cross-eyed." She knew she shouldn't have said it. And she knew she should've shut up afterwards. However sometimes, her mental state becomes dumbed down enough its nearly insulting to humanity as a whole. "You know those people with crazy eyes? Like they can be looking at you and stuff, but literally they're looking at something twenty five feet to the right side of you. Or the left. Wherever their eyes crazy point at." She laughed in stitches, swatting away at invisible flies, and clenching her shirt for dear life.

Everyone was so still, you could almost hear the sweat dripping from her neck and hitting the cement flooring. Even the poor guy getting beat up momentarily numbed down his pain and stared at her like she's a lunatic.

Which, she completely agreed, she was.

"You can also be legally blind." She continued, tapping her chin while lost in thought. "I mean, I know its a very low possibility," she kindly cleared for him, "considering you knew where his shirt was when you grabbed him," she pointed at the poor soul, "but I don't personally know you. In any case, I'm sure if there is anything wrong with your eyes, you'll get it fixed one day. You don't have to worry about it." Brush it off. Brush it off. "Hey, do you know the pin number to this door." Fake-laugh. Fake-laugh. "I'm so crazy. I thought this was the girls dormitory office."

More stares.

She pursed her lips and clenched her fingers. There was no way she was opening up her mouth again. No way.

"Are you not a student here?" She blurted. "You're not wearing your uniform."

The guy licked his bottom lip slowly. While shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned around and to his friends, he said. "I'm not sure if I should bully her clothes off or put her in a cage and watch her."

Fake-laugh. "That's silly. We had a friendly conversation, with a good laugh, remember?" Rihanna defended nervously, trying to swallow with her suddenly dry throat.

The guy turned again and made his way towards her.

She fake-laughed again. And as casually as she could, smacked both of her hands against the door behind her, hoping someone would hear and come to her rescue.

"No. Seriously. Don't tire yourself out. I can totally hear you from where you're standing." She fake-laughed again and slammed the doors behind her. "You can stop walking now. I'm totally not joking."

He clenched his fingers into fists. She took all possible steps backwards until the backs of her legs were against the door.

The guy stood in front of her, chest puffed out. He knelt in until his face was right in front of hers.

"What family are you from?"

"Do you mean like, as in family tree?" She barely had a voice coming out of her throat.

"What do your parents own?"

"Uh..." Everything was blank inside her head. All she cared to stare at were the hairs inside his big nose.

"A company name? Brand?" He continued.

"Why?"

"I might let you out of here if you put something decent on the table."

"What kind of table?" She asked, her body rocking with the fear she felt. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. "Are we going to have dinner about this later on?"

He stared at her with something very close to irritated confusion.

"You see, I'm newly enrolled and its very hard for me to go on dates. I don't date. In fact, there is a strict rule about me dating. Can we call this off? Just open the door for me and all will be forgotten."

He gritted his teeth. "I want to punch the stupid off of you so bad–"

"That makes the two of us." She nervously squealed. "Believe me, right now I feel so stupid for not asking that guy I met on the steps earlier where the office was that you'd feel sorry for me. But it's okay. It's not your fault. I completely understand. Sometimes, that's just how the world revolves. You know, hate, love, stupidity, it's all a part of the circle of life. Like how when a person dies, the bugs eat him and then he later on turns to feces splattered everywhere on Earth. Isn't that amazing? One day, you'll be bug poop too."

He stared at her, his expression was transfixed as if he was staring at a purple horse giving birth to an elephant.

"Did you just call me poop?"

"Well, if you're referring to my acknowledgment on the dead, I called you bug feces."

The guys behind him laughed so very hard. Even the poor one who was laying on the ground with blood coming out of everywhere laughed, yes, with struggle since his body was still in pain, but he laughed all together.

"You're so stupid, I actually want you to be my friend." Connor said, his eyes blinking like even he was surprised at what he said.

At this, silence fell on everyone behind him from shock.

She pursed her lips, knowing what she was going to say next wasn't the best idea. So she closed her lips shut and imagined a zipper going across them.

It took two seconds.

"But I don't want to be your friend." She blurted out.

"It's not your choice." He said without bother, slapping his hands together as if he was cleaning dust off of them. "You're my friend and that's the end of it."

"I don't even know your name."

"My name is Connor. Anything else?"

"What grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior."

"Why do you have really long nose hair?"

His nose flared. And he threw a punch at her. It was automatic. Out of anger. Out of the blue even.

She caught it with ease. "Deadpool or Spiderman?"

Glancing at his fist in her hand with shock, he looked at her and stuttered, "Deadpool."

"Okay. Let me think about it. Though I don't think we can be friends."

"Why?"

She smiled. His heart fluttered.

"You know what? Never mind." He punched in the pin number and pushed her out of the door.

She quickly grabbed the door and looked at him.

"What now?"

She pointed at the broken pieces of the guy. "Can I have him? I need someone to show me to the office."

Connor sighed. With two fingers, he ushered for the guys to push the poor guy over. "Let Landon go."

After finally getting to the Girls Dormitory Office, Landon turned around and looked at Rihanna. "I advise you not to open your mouth again with anyone else. You're so full of shit I almost wanted to punch you myself." He said with mock, wiping the smear of blood near his lips.

He was rich, much richer than Rihanna. While Connor might have been richer, this guy here knew the difference between his status and Rihanna's. She was trash. Someone he can do to what Connor did to him, easily.

Levels of class correspond to the levels of being an ass.

Her eyes fell to the ground. Heat filled up in her skull as she slowly looked up at Landon. A small smile was suddenly apparent on her lips, and the expression on her face made his eyes open a slit wider. It was an expression he'd seen on someone else before, one that scared the shit out of him.

With quick movements, she had him against the wall with her arm pushed up his throat. "I did that stupid act to save your sorry ass back there."

Landon blinked at her with shock and horror. "What the hell..."

She stepped back, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, then with a deep breath, and a sweet smile, she walked inside the office.