In a small room, the walls were adorned with trophies and certificates, commemorating the achievements of former students. The principal's desk, a large polished wooden slab, bore a nameplate that read "Miss Aimee, Principal." Behind the desk sat a woman, her eyes concealed behind gold-rimmed glasses. She regarded the student before her with a gaze that was both warm and stern.
"We've completed all the necessary paperwork. Welcome to Belmont High School, William Arthur," Miss Aimee said, smiling as she handed some documents to Olive.
"Thank you, ma'am," Olive replied, slipping easily into her new identity as she accepted the documents. 'Arthur'. She had to keep that name at the forefront of her mind, or she might accidentally slip up.
"Each year, no matter how many students participate in the math competition or how many winners there are, only one individual is chosen by the Belmont heir. You happen to be the lucky one this year," Miss Aimee informed Olive, her gaze steady, as though gauging her reaction.
"That explains it," Olive responded with a sigh, her tone slightly bored. "The math question was so straightforward. Who would have thought the heir of the school determines the winner?" She hoped her nonchalant delivery was in line with what a boy might say, though inwardly, the idea unsettled her.
Miss Aimee chuckled. "You are aware that this is a boarding school. Scholarship students are required to share a dorm with the Belmont heir for a year, but you may not even see him. He rarely stays in the dorm; most of his time is spent at the Belmont mansion. He only comes to school for lectures."
Olive stiffened at the mention of the heir. 'Well, good! I have a room to myself then.' She pushed the thought aside and forced a smile as Miss Aimee handed her a key to the dorm.
"Thank you, ma'am," Olive replied, her voice steady, despite the growing unease.
"Off you go then," Miss Aimee said, leaning back in her chair. "Your school uniform and other necessities will be provided shortly, but for now, settle into your dorm. There's no need to attend the last lecture today; you can start fresh tomorrow. In the meantime, familiarize yourself with the school grounds."
"Goodbye, ma'am," Olive said, rising from her seat. But as she turned to leave, the image of the black-haired boy being beaten flashed in her mind. She stopped.
"I have a video to show you, ma'am," Olive suddenly added, turning back to face Miss Aimee, whose expression shifted to one of curiosity.
"Oh? What kind of video?" Miss Aimee asked, her voice calm but intrigued.
"On my way into the school building, I witnessed some students bullying another student," Olive explained bluntly, pulling out her phone. "I recorded them as evidence." She handed the phone to Miss Aimee, who watched the footage in silence.
After a few moments, Miss Aimee handed the phone back to Olive. "I'll handle it. You can go now," she said, her tone neutral, but her expression unreadable.
Olive felt a flicker of doubt. She had expected Miss Aimee to show more concern, maybe even summon the bullies right away. But the principal's reaction was so measured that it left Olive feeling uneasy. 'Is she really going to do something about it' she wondered.
"Okay, ma'am. Goodbye, then," Olive said, turning on her heel and leaving the office. Her mind was swirling with questions, her confidence shaken.
As Olive left the principal's office, she was lost in thought, mentally replaying the bullying scene. Suddenly, she collided with something solid, someone solid. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs, and she stumbled back, wide-eyed.
Looking up, her gaze met the piercing green eyes of the blondie and the group of bullies from earlier. Olive's heart raced, her stomach twisting into knots. 'Of all people…'
"Move, will you?" the blondie barked, his voice dripping with annoyance.
Olive quickly stepped aside, clutching her bag tight as they passed her. The thud of their footsteps and the harsh slam of the principal's office door echoed behind them, leaving Olive frozen for a moment.
'Finally , they'll be punished.' She exhaled, trying to calm her racing heart. 'That's a relief.'
"Hi! Do you need help?" a voice cut through Olive's thoughts, snapping her attention to a tall boy standing nearby. His dyed hair and easy smile gave him a friendly, approachable look. He waved at her, his brown eyes warm and curious.
'Another handsome guy?' Olive thought to herself, biting back a smile. 'Focus, Olive. You're supposed to be Arthur.' She forced herself to keep her expression neutral.
"Hello?" the boy said again, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You okay? I'm Mark." He extended a hand toward her.
Olive swallowed and quickly composed herself. 'Arthur wouldn't act all flustered over a handshake.' She grasped his hand firmly, keeping her tone casual. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm Arthur, nice to meet you," she said, focusing on maintaining that lower pitch she'd worked so hard on.
Mark smiled. "You must be new. Scholarship or paid?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Scholarship," Olive replied, giving a curt nod.
Mark laughed lightly. "Thought so. Welcome to Belmont. I can help you with your luggage and show you around once you're settled."
"That'd be great, thanks," Olive said, nodding toward the fallen suitcase she had dropped earlier. She could feel herself relaxing a little, though the tension of keeping up her disguise never left her mind.
As Mark picked up the luggage, they began walking toward Olive's dorm. The air between them felt light, but Olive couldn't ignore the unease still gnawing at her.
"So," Olive said, trying to break the silence. "Tell me about the school. I've heard it's... interesting." She kept her tone curious but casual, hoping to learn more about the place.
Mark chuckled. "Oh, it's interesting, alright. But my advice, especially as a scholarship student is to steer clear of the rich kids." His expression darkened a little, his tone more serious. "You don't want to get mixed up with them."
Olive raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because of bullying?" she asked, playing dumb, though her mind flashed back to the scene she had witnessed earlier.
"Exactly," Mark replied, his voice dropping a notch. "Especially avoid the school heir. Bullying's like a sport around here for guys like him. If you offend the wrong person, it won't end well. Trust me, if you want a peaceful year, just stay out of their way."
Olive stopped walking, turning to face Mark. His words had struck a nerve. "And you think I can't handle myself?" she asked, her voice a touch sharper than she intended. 'Damn. Calm down, Olive.'
Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax. I'm just giving you a heads-up. You seem... I dunno, not the type to handle the kind of stuff that goes down here." He leaned in slightly, his expression serious. "One bad beating could put someone like you in the hospital."
Olive's jaw clenched. She rolled her eyes, trying to brush off the insult. "I'm not weak."
Mark raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I didn't say you were. Just that the guys around here play dirty."
Olive let out a short breath, forcing herself to relax. "Are you a scholarship student too?" she asked, changing the subject.
Mark laughed, his mood instantly lightening. "Nah, my family pays for my spot here. But I don't get involved in the whole rich-kid thing. I just… I dunno, like to look out for the new scholarship students. You know, give them the lay of the land."
Olive stared at him for a moment, suspicious but intrigued. "So, you're one of the rich kids, but you're warning me about the rich kids. Why?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Mark shrugged, a genuine smile crossing his face. "Maybe I just don't like seeing people get hurt. Plus, you seem alright. Just... keep your head down, alright? Especially around the Belmont heir."
Olive's stomach twisted again, but she forced a smile. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, though inwardly she was annoyed.