Harrovian School feels so long ago now, even though you only graduated six months ago; your friends there have fallen out of touch. Compared to what you've read of Gallatin, Harrovian is far more academically focused. At Harrovian, several people from your year disappeared during exam season due to ill health and, afterwards, were only spoken of vaguely.
Hopefully you will have more freedom at Gallatin College; you'll be away from the eagle eyes of your parents, at least.
Freddie looks as though this is the first time that homesickness has occurred to him. "I went to—um, Wayborne Secondary," he says.
A beat. You've never heard of the place; you know of Wayborne, though. It's a down-market part of Fenburg, the capital of Westerlin. There would certainly be no boarding schools there. Probably no private schools at all.
"Oh!" Gonzalez says, too brightly. "So you're a scholarship student?"
Freddie scowls, and folds his arms. "Well, yeah," he growls, "but I got in on merit."
Unlike you, is the undertone, and Gonzalez bristles. "Excuse me," she starts; the argument will only escalate if you don't step in.