Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
My perfect GPA, plus my thousand hours of community service and volunteer work, would get me into Harvard. And it was all that mattered. Harvard was my path. It was my destination, and it was where I belonged. Maybe my grandparents were right. Maybe I was obsessed with the idea of “perfection.” But I didn’t care. If perfection would get me everything I wanted, then Miss Perfectionist I’d be.
The bus came on time, and I successfully climbed in without any more bad luck. My favorite seat at the back of the bus was waiting for me. It gave me the perfect view of the whole bus, and it was a window seat. Once my earphones were in, “Hands to Myself” by Selena Gomez started to blast in my ears. I leaned my forehead against the cool window and watched the world move.
This was probably my favorite part of my morning routine. I’d always been an observer, and one could learn a lot in a ten-minute bus ride.
Not long after, the bus came to a stop, and I walked out; I stopped on the pavement for the briefest moment to stare at the large and old, yet hauntingly beautiful and fancy, building in front of me.
The Berkshire Academy of Weston.
The private school for the rich and the corrupted. Kids of infamous judges, senators, government associates, and some of the highest paid lawyers and doctors in the United States.
I wasn’t one of them. My father was a high school teacher. My mother was a nurse. And I was the quiet and poor girl amongst all the famous, wealthy spawns of the devils themselves. I didn’t belong here. But I chose to be here.
48.2% of Berkshire Academy of Weston graduates end up at an Ivy League College – Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth, or Harvard.
That little fact was the reason why I chose to enroll in this school during my junior year. Now, I was a senior at Berkshire. A few more months, and I’d be out of here.
I took in a deep breath and inhaled the fresh September air. It wasn’t too cold yet. The fall season had just begun, and the leaves were just starting to turn red, orange, and yellow. It was a beautiful time of year – the time where the trees end up naked, silently awaiting their rebirth once again. The end of something beautiful, while waiting for a new beginning.
“Lila!”
My thoughts came to a halt, and I turned to see Riley coming my way. She waved animatedly, and I couldn’t help but smile. Riley was a sweet, wild girl, and my only friend at Berkshire.
Her pretty blonde locks bounced as she hopped over to me. “Are you late, too?”
I nodded with a sigh. She perked up cheekily. “No way! Miss Smarty Pants is late? Jesus, I need to write this down. ASAP.”
The urge to roll my eyes was strong, but I refrained from doing so. “You have Advanced Calculus next, right?” I asked, switching the subject.
I usually loved to join in on the teasing, but I wasn’t in the mood today. Waking up late had made me a tad grumpier. My knee was sore and ached every time I took a step – a constant reminder of how amazing my morning had been so far. Grumpy Lila was no fun.
Riley looked thoughtful for a second. “Yeah. I do,” she responded after a long second. “You?”
“English. We have twenty minutes before our classes start.”
“I actually need to see my teacher before class. Did I mention I hate math? Yeah, I probably did a hundred times. We have a test next week, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to flunk it.” Riley’s normal cheerfulness disappeared, and her brows tensed with a frown. She looked deeply saddened for a moment, but just as quickly, her expression changed, and she was back to happy Riley once again. “I’ll see you at lunch?”
I grabbed her hand before she could leave. “If you want, I can help you this weekend with Calculus.”
She smiled brightly, her whole face shining like the moon. “Really? Thank you, babe. How about we talk more about it at lunch? We can pick a time and place.”
“Sounds good to me.” I let her hand go, and she waved before running through the gates.
I looked down at my phone. Fifteen minutes until my next class. It was enough time for me to grab an iced latte. Perfect. Maybe sugar would help my mood.
The coffee shop was only a few feet away, sitting right next to the campus. It was pretty much only visited by the students of Berkshire. It wasn’t lunch yet, so when I walked in, the shop was fairly quiet. I ordered myself an iced latte with extra whip cream and went to stand next to the heater. “Sugar” by Maroon 5 continued to play in my ear, and I softy hummed along to the song.