Is this real life?
Kicking off with 158 in Teen Fiction. Thanks Y'all.

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"Wait for them to ask you who you know."
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Next, I had English. It was one of those classes that no one really missed. Not because Mr. Hoover was strict, in fact Mr. Hoover was one of the youngest teachers at Brickdale who would crack (good) jokes in every good sentence and was a laid back person. You're allowed to give your own comment at his comments which may be off topic as well and he would not get offended.

Moreover his interpretations of the text were funny and way different than anyone could ever think. Thus his class compelled the students to attend the class.

I resume my seat at the very back of the class as Mr. Hoover starts teaching. This class was pretty easy for me as we had no group work today. All I had to do was jot down notes from the blackboard.

The class on the discussion of the sonnets of Shakespeare was going really well when half an hour into the class, there was a knock on the door.

My eyes averted to the door to see Tristan Evans coming in without asking permission from Mr. Hoover.

It's official! The A List lacked manners.

But really, being the part of A List, he didn't even had to knock on the door, he could have slammed it open and called out whatever he wanted and everyone would have obliged. It's just the way it works in Brickdale Academy.

Everyone's eyes were glued to Tristan. He was handsome beyond normal terms and stood six feet tall. It was a typical reaction the A List got. Everyone of them were pretty, sophisticated and incredibly rich and famous.

I rolled my eyes at the thought and turned to my notebook to resume my work again.

"I'm looking for Estelle." A voice commands and all goes silent. I breathe heavily, not sure why Tristan is looking for me. It's not like they know me. Half of my class has never heard of my name, let alone, Tristan. I'm baffled.

The only encounter I had was with a guy with crystal green eyes a couple of hours ago, about whom I'm a little doubtful if he is a part of the A list or not.

I assume Tristan is looking for Estelle from the sophomore year. She is the daughter of a socialite. She's not as rich as the elite, but oh boy, everyone in Brickdale is fricking rich.

I keep my eyes glued on my paperwork as Mr. Hoover speaks " I think you are in the wrong class Mr. Evans. " He knows, most of the teachers know I like to maintain a low profile. Even when I topped my sophomore year, I requested my name not to be out. I didn't want people to know me.

I look up to see Tristan looking at me as he shakes his head a smirk forming on his lips.

"Estelle Caldwell."

My eyes widen and my heart begins to race. Everyone is following Tristan's gaze who is looking at me. With so many stares at me, I begin to feel comfortable. I stand up and hear a few gasps. I start walking and I can hear a few whispers and I can only make out "Estelle" from their sounds.

I walk out of the classroom without looking if Tristan is walking behind me or not. I turn around suddenly and almost bump into Tristan.

"What do you need?" I ask.

"Rebbecca Brickdale wants to see you." Tristan smirks and walks ahead with me following him.

We make it to the Hangout room where I see Rebbecca standing with some of the wannabes, laughing and chatting with them as if she's best friends with them. I wonder why anyone else of the A List is not here.

She must have noticed my presence as she turns around and gives me a heart warming smile which runs a chill down my spine.

"Estelle Dakota Caldwell." She coos, smiling, taking long strides towards me, her obnoxiously long heels clicking against the hardwood. For a split second I turn my head to my side to see that Tristan is already gone.

I look at Rebbecca again.

"Hmm, I didn't know you before Edward specifically pointed you out to Casper today in the math class." She says standing right in front of me,looking directly in my eyes, her heels making her as tall as I am.

"Take a seat." She offers, pointing to a couch and I oblige.

So, the guy with the green eyes has a name now. Edward. Suits him.

"Did you hear?" Isabella breaks my reverie . I must have been lost in my long train of thoughts that I failed to see Rebbecca is sitting next to me on the couch.

"Sorry, what?" I awkwardly ask. I'm not used to conversing with people, let alone any one of the A List.

" I said." She says, emphasizing every word. "You are a hidden gem in Brickdale, aren't you Estelle? " she smiles evilly at me.

I swallow a big lump and practically hear myself swallowing.

"Wh-- what?" I stutter, goosebumps rising all over my body.

"C'mon Stella. Don't lie to me now." She smiles devilishly. Shit! She is already giving me a nick name!

I'm dumbfounded. I can't even feel my hands or legs. I just try to give her a fake confused look.

"Since, " Rebbecca speaks again, "you're not going to speak." She fakes a smile. "let me do the honour." She stands and takes a file which a wannabe has handed to her.

"Estelle Dakota Caldwell." She says, "daughter of late Mr. Brian Caldwell and Regina Caldwell, died in a car accident, in which you supposedly survived. " she speaks, reading from the documents.

I fidget with the hem of my shirt. My secret's going to be out any second now.

"Caldwell had a small job at one of the local newspaper agency in Florida." She facts out.

"Now Estelle." She says. "Tell me how did you make it to Brickdale?" She asks confused.

Her father didn't tell her?

I'm confused. But I decide to stay silent.

"How?" Her voice booms. " Daddy wasn't rich enough sweetie, I have his bank statements." Boy, she really wanted to know.

This was an easy win for me.

"In case you didn't know Rebbecca." I answer calmly. "Your father started an annual scholarship program in remembrance of your grandmother, after whom you are named, The Rebbecca Funding for the poor with extraordinary skills in various fields." I stand up. "The same program got me through Brickdale." I say matter of factly.

Defeated, she huffs and looks at me.

She cringes as if I'm something untouchable.

"You don't belong here." She says and goes away, stomping her, making the obnoxious clicking of her heels nauseating for me.

I make it out of the hangout room to walk to the cafeteria. My stomach making that sound, when it is hungry. As soon as I step out of the room I collide head first into someone again.

"I'm so sorry." I apologize. This day is clearly the worst one out for me.

"Well, well, well." The voice says. "Looks like someone can't keep away from me." I freeze momentarily.

Tristan!

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