Dinner was an awkward affair. Tension ran through the air as Marcus and Cassius took their seats.
The two of them chatted with each other throughout the meal and pretty much ignored my existence. It was crystal clear that they wanted nothing to do with me and if that first greeting didn't say enough, their pretending I wasn't here only confirmed it. It was...hurtful. I mean, it's not like I was hoping for them to welcome me with open arms but I wasn't prepared for them to show such hostility.
I ate my food in silence and kept my head down. Since they hated me, it was better not to earn any more of their ire by attempting a conversation. To be honest, I didn't feel like eating. Although the chicken pesto pasta was delicious, I couldn't bring myself to enjoy it. Everything felt stifling and I couldn't wait for it to be over.
After dinner, I wordlessly took my dirty dishes to the kitchen where Ms. Owens took them off my hands and went upstairs to my bedroom.
'They hate me.'
I sat on the chair by my desk and rested my head on the wooden surface. Although I didn't know them, the way they treated me with such disdain hurt me more than I expected. Perhaps I was subconsciously hoping to be welcomed with smiles. Maybe, without knowing, I had hoped that I would be accepted into the family I hadn't met in a long time with open arms.
'They hate me.'
Why? Did I do something? Or did they just not want a sister?
I released a huff and pulled myself up.
'Is it related to the reason why my parents broke up?'
I wanted to know. It was illogical for them to despise me when we hadn't had contact for over ten years. Surely, there must be something there, right? I mean, why hate a girl who they haven't seen for so long?
I want to ask them but something tells me they wouldn't be too keen on answering me.
"...Maybe I should just drop it," I muttered.
I didn't want to piss them off since this was technically their territory. And seeing how they dislike me, there's a chance that my father felt the same way. Because it wouldn't make sense if Father liked me and they didn't. Obviously, their hate stemmed from somewhere and the closest thing would've been from my father.
But then...why would he take me in if he didn't want me?
"I suppose it really was out of obligation rather than familial affection."
I wish that realization didn't upset me as much as it did.
——————[oo]——————
The following morning, my phone alarm went off at 5:45 A.M.
It took me a while to wake up and turn it off. After I tapped the 'dismiss' banner, I turned over onto my back with my front facing the ceiling. Falling asleep last night was harder than usual. I kept thinking about my brothers, my mother, and the possibility that my father didn't want me. Foolishly, I assumed that my heart was prepared for rejection but it seems that it wasn't.
I must've slept at around midnight when my body had finally given out.
After five minutes of tossing and turning, stretching my limbs to release the built-up tension in my muscles, I opened the covers and slid out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom. I took my time in the shower, allowing myself to relax under the warm water, and scrubbed my body clean. Once done, I stepped out of the glass doors and dried myself before completing the rest of my morning routine.
There was a uniform hanging on my wardrobe when I came out of the bathroom.
That's when I remembered I would be entering a new school. Unlike my previous school, I'd be attending the same private academy that my brothers went to called 'Stonewall Academy'.
The thought of attending a private school made me nervous - as did most things these days. Ever since I began schooling, I've been going to public schools where rules weren't as strict. Stonewall Academy was the total opposite. It was a private academy that only the richest could afford. If a child of someone who wasn't wealthy wanted to attend, the only way in was by getting a scholarship. A full scholarship would be the best option because even with a partial scholarship, there was still a hefty amount of fees to pay.
And getting a scholarship wasn't easy.
You'd need a perfect grade report with nothing but As on it and you would need to excel at something other than schoolwork. Even then, that was just the first part of the process. If your application gets accepted, you would need to be interviewed by a panel and that was the hardest part of it all. From what I researched, the interviewers were extremely strict and no-nonsense. One slip-up and they immediately reject your application.
That was one reason I could probably never get in through a scholarship. I had the grades bit handled - with report cards having nothing but As on them - but I didn't excel at anything outside of schoolwork and I wouldn't be able to pass the interview with my weak personality.
That's why I was treating this as an opportunity. If I was able to graduate from this academy with perfect scores, it would be easier to get accepted into any university I wanted. I planned to put all my focus on getting good grades which meant I didn't have time to deal with family drama. If my brothers didn't want to acknowledge me, then I needed to move on.
Dwelling on such things wouldn't get me anywhere.
Carefully taking down the uniform from where it was hung, I stripped out of my bathrobe and began putting it on. The uniform of the academy consisted of a white button-down blouse which was tucked in, a dark blue and light grey blazer to go over it, and a plaited skirt that fell just above my knees. On my feet were a pair of closed shoes similar to mary janes and I wore dark grey socks under them, covering up my feet. The socks went up to just below the back of my knees.
The requirement for hairstyles wasn't as strict as I expected them to be. The only rule when it came to hair was that it had to be your natural hair colour with no dyes.
My hair wasn't long so I just pulled back the hair that hung on the sides of my face and pinned them behind with a clip.
I didn't own any makeup other than some lip balm which I used.
After I was done, I stepped back and checked over my appearance in the mirror, making sure I hadn't missed anything, before making my bed. I wasn't someone who made my bed every single day but I did on most days. On the weekends, I tended to leave it unmade because I liked to laze around on it until I got up which was often around noon.
I patted the top of the duvet down and brushed away the crinkles before setting the pillows how I remembered them.
After I was done, I picked up my school bag and breathed in and out before putting on a determined face.
I was gonna be fine. I wasn't going to mess up.
I needed to be strong.