Chapter 18
At Ordstead Middle School, two–thirds of the students were heirs to powerful families. Even those from less prominent branches were still bound to become influential in their own industries. And anyone qualified to teach at Ordstead? Definitely not your average teacher.
Micah saw right through Linda’s act, but he couldn’t be bothered to call
her out.
After a short pause, he brushed off her performance and said, “Just a reminder–Ordstead isn’t a place to mess around. Also, don’t forget your
uniform tomorrow.”
Laughter rippled through the classroom, low and mocking. Linda’s face stiffened slightly as she nodded, then stepped off the podium and returned
to her seat.
“Photos of your creative art projects are up on the school website, and the voting portal is open. Go ahead and vote when you have time.”
“Mr. Sellers, are we still doing the in–school auction for the top ten pieces like last year?”
“Yes, but this time there’s a new special award. The winner will get a chance to collaborate with Rainbow Group. If that’s something you’re interested in, you might want to step up your game.”
“Rainbow Group? You mean the company that turns gaming gear into actual art?”
The room stirred. Some students looked shocked; others looked like they were about to cry from regret.
“If I’d known, I would’ve actually tried! Why did the school keep this
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under wraps?”
“Is it too late to start begging for votes?”
11 286 Vouchers
“With your mess of a project? It’s an insult to everyone’s eyes and taste.”
“You don’t get it–Van Gogh is my idol!”
“Who do you think’s got the best shot?”
“Has to be Dora. She wins every year.”
Dora gave a mysterious smile and shook her head. “To give you all a fighting chance, I didn’t submit something I painted myself this time.”
Instantly, everyone groaned and rolled their eyes.
“Wow, thanks for blessing us with the leftovers!”
By the end of class, Linda was practically dozing off. She’d been trying to build rapport with her classmates, but it was clear she had no idea how to join their conversations.
“What’s going on with that new commercial district in Innard? My family’s thinking of investing. Is there still a window?”
“Don’t bother. Latest intel says the government’s putting a highway through there–it’s gonna tank. Remember how the Cobb family dumped a fortune into it? Now they’re stuck holding worthless shares and can’t even complain.”
“Forget it then. Better to put the money into the studio.”
“Hey, how’s your fashion design studio going? My family just got a batch of ripple–patterned fabric–interested?”
“Bring it over. But if the quality’s bad, I’m not touching it.”
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“Don’t worry, I know your standards. I wouldn’t dare offer you anything cheap.”
Linda looked around. Everyone was deep in business talk–investments, materials, insider tips. She didn’t understand a word of it and felt completely out of place.
Eventually, her eyes landed on Dora, who was surrounded by a group of admirers.
J
“Dora, what’s that hanging off your bag?”
“A bus card? Look at that–the rich girl’s fallen on hard times. Taking the bus to school now?”
“Wow, we finally have an actual poor kid in our class!”
“And to think someone was complaining the full scholarship for top students was stingy. Turns out it is good for something!”
“Now that you mention it, the school also gives out merit scholarships and need–based grants. Better hand those over to Dora too!”
Everyone burst out laughing, joking playfully at Dora’s expense. She gave an exasperated smile and waved them off. “Alright, that’s enough. Keep going and it’s just plain rude.”
Linda hesitated for a moment, then stood up and walked over, wearing a timid expression tinged with righteous indignation. “That’s really out of line. You can’t talk about Dora like that.”
Her comment drew confused looks from all around.
Most of them were on familiar terms with Dora. She was chill, always came through with cool stuff from who–knows–where, and even helped classmates find antiques or unique gifts for family events. This kind of light teasing among friends was normal. ‘Since when did Linda get to
come in and lecture us?‘ they thought.
Even Dora gave her a weird look. “Sorry, I am not that close with you.”
“Dora,” Linda said earnestly, “I know our adoptive family doesn’t have much money. You grew up used to a luxurious life, so I understand how hard it must be adjusting to the Acosta family. But I can talk to Mom and Dad for you. If you apologize, I’m sure they’ll let you come back to the Hendrix family.”
She sounded completely sincere–like she genuinely cared. The image she presented was picture–perfect: the gentle, well–meaning foster daughter looking out for the real heiress who’d been forced to live a harder life. In theory, this should’ve made her seem kind and selfless, and Dora seem cold and ungrateful.
