I scream and fall out of the chair.

“Ow, that hurt,” a high voice whines. As I watch, a tall, lanky blonde girl emerges from under the chair.

I gape at her. What-

“Way to blow our cover, Amy,” another voice- deeper, more masculine- grumbles. As I watch, 4 students stand up from under separate chairs.

They all eye me warily, like I’m a species of wild dog that they’re afraid may bite them any second.

“H-Hi,” I stutter, waving awkwardly.

They stare.

Finally, the tall girl- Amy, I think her name was- walks up to me and studies my face. I instinctively shrink back as she pores over every little aspect of me, until she finally withdraws. 

“I think we're good... she's okay,” Amy calls over to the other kids. They sigh, relieved. 

“Hi, I’m Amy,” she says, sticking out her hand.

“I’m Hana,” I giggle nervously. “So what was that all about?”

“We were just trying to determine if you were one of them or not.” Amy wrinkles her nose distastefully.

“One of… who? And why were you hiding?” I ask curiously.

“The typical Webster girl,” a tall boy standing behind Amy drawls. He runs a hand through his ruffled black hair, making it even messier. “You know. $1,000 allowance. Brand name bag. Face painted with Sephora products.”

"And we thought you were going to play a prank on us or something, so we hid." Amy adds. 

“I’m not.” I laugh. “I'm new. But are most people here like that...?”

“Most girls here are like that,” another girl tells me. “And the guys are all-,”

“Football players, golf players, Abercrombie and Fitch Models!” yet another boy exclaims. He’s shoveling Hot Cheetos in his mouth from a jumbo size bag. “Except for us, of course.”

“Who are you guys?” I ask.

“The scholarship kids of Webster Academy!” the tall boy exclaims grandly, flourishing his arms like he’s introducing themselves on a game show. “The ridiculed and scoffed off this elite school, the ones whose daddies don’t own huge conglomerates!” He sticks out a hand. “I’m Key. Hi.”

“Hi. I'm Hana.” I shake his hand.

“Emily,” the bushy-haired girl smiles.

“Jon. Hi.” The last boy greets me.

Amy, Emily, Jon, and Key spend the rest of the time before class starts briefing me in on how they’ve been in Webster since kindergarten and how they hate dealing with everyone’s stupid rich people problems. Apparently, if you belong to the middle class, then you're immediately deemed poor.

Jon’s in the middle of impersonating some Kris kid, who’s apparently been the most popular and sought guy in their class since the 2^nd grade, when the door opens and a gaggle of giggling girls strut in, talking animatedly.

And now I understand what Key meant by the “typical Webster girl”.

Every one of these girls’ faces is literally coated with foundation, bright eye shadow, and tons of blush.

Their skirts are all hemmed so short that they barely reach their mid-thigh.

And they’re holding iPhones with a gazillion cell phone charms on them, texting enthusiastically.

It’s like they’re wearing a uniform inside of a uniform.

The girls totally ignore us, although some of them look up from their phones to give us disdainful glares. Amy shoots me a look that says, See what I mean?

Slowly, more and more students begin to trickle in, and it becomes louder and louder in the classroom. The room is filled with squeals and greetings and "Long time no see!"s. I catch snippets of the students' conversations.

"My dad only let me go to Switzerland for a week." one guy complains. "He said that I had to come home so I could volunteer or something."

"Bummer." his friend replies.

Shaking my head, I turn back to my new friends. “Is this how it is every day?” I ask incredulously. They nod.

“You’ll get used to it… eventually.” Emily sighs.

Suddenly the talking and chatting increases. Emily looks up and rolls her eyes. “Oh, great.” She mutters.

I turn around and my jaw drops.

Standing in front of the door is a tall, extremely good-looking guy, with bleached blonde hair and godly facial features. He has a backpack casually slung over a shoulder, and he's confidently walking into the room like he owns it. 

He’s incredibly attractive.

But... his expression is cold and intimidating. He looks unapproachable and unfriendly.

This doesn’t stop everyone in the class- except for me, Amy, Emily, Jon, and Key- from swarming around him.

“That’s Kris Wu.” Key glares at him. “Basketball star, football star, ranked #1 in our class, most sought after junior ever-,”

"We get it.” Jon snaps.

Kris, like the rest of the people in our class, doesn’t even spare us a glance.

However, he does nod at everyone else.

“Well, that’s Kris Wu for you,” Amy grumbles. “Class is almost starting. Let’s go sit down.” 

A/N: Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave any suggestions in the comments! :)