I took my backpack, already for the third morning in a row: school started recently, I'm excited about my third year of high school. I haven't been to make friends with anyone of my mates yet, but we still are at the third day, after all. I have the whole year in front of me.

I, Eryn Isolda Clark, just started my third year of high school. Yeah, I should be in fourth, but I have to repeat this year because previously I lived in Canada, I came back this summer, in New York. My parents are enough wealthy, I don't miss anything, I try to be modest, but always a minimum of pride escapes when you can get the world with just a blink.

It's so nice feeling powerful till this point. There's people who really deserves the same life style as mine. Other people don't even deserve one of my earrings.

My life slides between my parent's riches, and my followers. For charity, I don't define myself a VIP, I don't think to get such levels yet, but I am quite loved on social medias, and people who at times hangs from my lips is everything to me. People who wait for my updates, press like, comment; never a bad comment on me.

Shocking? Nah. It's quite normal.

I'm not bad, I mean: pretty, rich, quite versatile — there are a lot of things I'm able to do — good at school. I already have some minions. This feeling is amazing. Here, there are people who would deserve this luck — I am among those people, modestly — and, unluckily for them, they hadn't have the same luck as me.

My new school is one of the best schools in New York City, and I will be soon between its best students. My mania for protagonism doesn't come to desire to be the one at all the costs like certain obsessed, but to me even the podium is okay. Sure being the one would be perfect, but that one doesn't exist unluckily for me.

To be honest, yesterday I found out two guys who follow me — and who even are my affectionated fans, from what I understood — attend the same school as me, and even class. I'm satisfied. Perhaps they can be potential friends, but I should check some things on them before. I can't be everybody's friend.

The path from my house and school isn't that long. As soon as I find myself at the entrance of the school I get flooded by a group of guys, obviously my admirers, who asked me if I really have to be the model for a magazine. The answer is yes: sometimes — not always — I also work as a model. I said I am pretty, right? Well, I'm not the only one to think that about myself, or my relatives, but even journalists and people of a certain social level. And by the way I get paid. So how could I refuse?

I overtake them, with a bit of fatigue, and I continue my walk in the school driveway towards the entrance. I feel a lot at the center of the attention: everyone is looking at me and is talking about me. Another girl come close to me, acompanied by a boy — they're yesterday's dudes. Shyly they approximate to me.

«Sorry, miss Eryn, so is it true that you will be the model for that famous magazine?» the girl calls. I turn to look at her and I smirk.

This girl tries too to be a blogger like me, but she hasn't the success as me, and then her family is wealthy too, as I saw yesterday — not at the levels of mine anyway. About the boy I don't know precisely, I don't even know his name, but I think that he too is not doing badly.

I blink and I nod; the two of them introduce themselves: Arleen, I already knew her name, and Abel. Yes, I think they can be my friends, after all. Arleen is in my class, for Abel I don't know to be honest. I don't know anything about him.

As I suspected, he informs us he already is in fourth and last year, he is a few months older than me. I'm seventeen and I should be in fourth, but I am in third. Sometime, I think I should have remain in Ottawa with my uncles, my parents proposed that to me, but I refused. Meanwhile, here in America, I have all of the comforts that anybody may wish, but for many can only be utopias.

Is the arrival of a group of boys that catch my attention while I friendly converse with Arleen and Abel. Tall, handsone, apparently even wealthy. I already dislike them. A choir of girls of the second year raises for them, it seems they are crazy for those boys. Can really exist someone who feel better than me; they still don't know me. If I can't be the best student, I will be the most popular.

«But who are those dudes?» I asked in a sour voice, with disgust.

Arleen is looking at them with the same expression as me: she's just come in this school too, so it's certain she doesn't know who they are.

«Didn't you meet them yet? They are the boys of the Water Rose.» Abel answers. «Boys of the Water Rose?» I repeat skeptical. «What's the Water Rose?» Arleen demands.

«Is a ten-villas residence, only for filthy rich, between the fifth and the sixth road. They live there, one for each villa.» Abel explains.

All of this already seems absurd to me. I stand and watch them with that disappointed expression of mine: apparently there's someone I have to declare war to. The earrings, the faces, more than spoiled dad's children filthy riched they look criminals.

Abel repeats that this year the group is complete: even the youngers of the group are in the high school now. They don't share their age. Abel continues, saying clearly that school belongs to them. One of their fathers is even principal's friend. They stole the heart to almost all of the girls in the school thanks to their wealth and beauty. It's even high their notoriety on social medias. Their parents also have a close relations with the government.

I'm shocked by the power of guys like that. They seem looking at you in the inside. They stand in front of the entrance, hunting badly all the girls who try to approach them. As wealth as rude. Being in the third, I can hope none of them is in my class. For pity. Ansd by the way, soon they will realize that everyone, everybody, in this school, will make a queue for me and only for me, like yesterday and this morning; won't be difficult to pose an end to their kingdom.

At least, when I have to say to someone that is bothering me, I use a bit tact and kindness, not like them, who square us up from the top to the bottom, with sufficiency. They are hateful.

The bell ring, we look to one another and walk in. Arleen and I go right, leaving Abel going left and promising to see each other at the break. Arleen makes me notice that two of those dudes are following us, but I say her to stay calm and to behave as naturally as she can. I really hope — really — they aren't in the same class as me, or I swear I will move.

The two of them surpass us, without making us worthy of a glare and shift inside the class. I was about to walk over it, bur Arleen calls me, making me notice that, unluckily, it's ours. She go inside while I stay to watch the door, anything but enthusiastic. I sigh, and I already think how to say to my mother to make me move from here, or hoping that those two will change, or they wronged. I keep hoping, but I don't think we will be able to get well along as classmates together. It's a pity that in an amazing school like this one, there must be individuals like them that ruin it.