They were talking about me, right next to me, which didn’t really bother me but was an immense disappointment. My first day at this amazingly expensive school and they’ve already made a bad impression. My friends used to say it’s impossible to make a good first impression on Sasha Munroe. I smiled at the thought but it soon melted into an icy glare. Apparently to icy for the freshman who scurried out of my path looking extremely scared. Oh well, there goes the whole emotionally devoid front I was going for. Running my hand over my hair to find my long braid still perfectly in place I walked into my first class of the day. I regret to say my entrance was not made for the movies, in which everyone would turn to stare. Surprisingly, not many people were all that interested that someone had walked in the door; note the sarcasm. I sat in a seat somewhere near the middle of the class and took out my notebook and pens. Folding one perfectly tanned leg over the other I waited patiently for the class to start, observing my new classmates.

A few minutes later the teacher walked in, hair piled neatly into a bun, a black pencil skirt and white silk blouse adorning a tall, slim frame, which commanded attention. Glancing at the classic, black Jimmy choos I decided I was going to like this teacher.”Good morning class, today we have a new student, Sasha Munroe. Would you like to introduce yourself, Ms. Munroe?”

Leisurely standing I felt all eyes on me. Standing tall and upright, with good posture taught by grandmother I looked the teacher in the eye and said silkily, “No, I’d really rather not.” I glanced at my perfectly filed and coated, blood red nails. Glancing back up she was trying hard to keep the smile on her face.

“Just a few words Ms. Munroe,” she said with a forced smile. I smiled graciously at her and adjusted my Tiffany necklace, pulling it out from under my cream sweater.

“Certainly. My name, as Miss said is Sasha Munroe. Until recently I attended Darling Academy for the talented. Of course, everyone knows they consider having money a talent. I suppose it could be the knowledge of how to use that money; namely on their school,” I said thoughtfully. I looked around at the slightly shocked expressions before continuing. “I find money very helpful and having nothing against it, of course. I’m simply wondering at the irony of a school based on helping talented middle-classmen, accepting various rich, for simply their money. Many seem to believe that rich need no talent; they’ve already got it made. I suppose they’re right. Regardless, I’m very excited to be attending your school.” I sat down, the look on my face displaying the complete opposite of my last statement.

The teacher cleared her throat and started, surprise, surprise, teaching. The rest of the day was rather uneventful apart from one incident in English. I had opted to sit towards the back due to the suspicious smells coming from the front of the classroom, where a large boy was sitting, eating something I would consider inedible. Three girls walked in, hands on hips asserting their dominance. They stood over my table and glared. “This is our table, so you should move,” the apparent leader said.

“Firstly there’s three of you, and I don’t think I’m the only one whose wondering how you’re all going to share one desk,” her face went red and she glared harder, “and secondly, no.”

“What did you say to me!” she screeched, “you can’t just turn up here and just, ugh!”

“Hun, I have no intention of ‘ughing’, so walk your target jeans and fake Chanel over to another desk. And while you’re at it, here’s my hairdressers number, you’re roots are killing me.” Needless to say, she ended up moving. At lunch I was too busy overseeing the transportation of my luggage to face the lunchroom, so I ended up running on a chai latte. All in all my first day was fine. Although it wasn’t over yet. I still got to meet my roommate, because apparently million dollar heirs and heiresses need more social interaction. I just couldn’t wait. To get out of here.