I was the school's certified walking disaster. After bullying the principal and getting expelled, no public school in the district would touch me. My dad gritted his teeth, scraped together every penny he had, and sent me to a prestigious private high school. Before school started, he warned me a thousand times. "Riley, you have to get along with your classmates. If you offend anyone there, our family is finished." The first week of school, I kidnapped the wheelchair-bound heir of a business empire to skip class and play bumper cars. The second week, I took the anorexic rich girl over the wall to eat greasy street tacos. The third week, the teacher called my dad in. My dad's legs went weak as he closed the office door. The teacher looked at him apologetically: "Mr. Vance, I'm so sorry." "Riley is just too popular. The classmates are fighting over her." 01 I was picked up by my dad while he was collecting scrap metal. And he raised me on the proceeds of that scrap metal. Like our dog Buster, the stray cat Mittens, and the parrot, I was just another stray he took in. According to his tall tales, back in the early 2000s, he was a carefree rich kid. But he had no ambition and blew his inheritance rescuing stray dogs halfway through business school. It spiraled from there. The year his family went bankrupt, he used his last bit of money to rent a junkyard. Collecting scrap, raising dogs—life was passable. Until one winter day, snow covering everything. Someone dumped a cardboard box at the gate of the junkyard. Like always, he thought it was abandoned puppies. The moment he opened the box, he heard my weak cry. The dogs were saved, and a human was saved too. From that winter on, we had to tighten our belts. My dad was only twenty-two then, but he never complained. He was determined to raise me like a princess. I don't know where it went wrong. I hugged my dolls while flipping over card tables on the street corner. I wore princess dresses while plastering the neighbor's windows with mud. Wearing pink hair clips, I beat up the high school bullies who tried to collect protection money. A tiger down on its luck gets bullied by dogs. My dad went from a young master to a junkman, and he faced plenty of ridicule. Whenever that happened, I’d sneak into their yards at midnight and throw snap-pops. Specifically, the ones wrapped in pink paper. I did this for half a month until they begged my dad for forgiveness. Then came high school. The dorms cut power in the summer, and it was scorching hot. Everyone woke up looking like they’d just showered. Someone wrote a complaint to the principal's suggestion box. The box had a camera facing out and a shredder inside. So, during the Monday flag ceremony, I hoisted the principal's toupee up the flagpole. By the time he realized, the wig had reached the top. I became a legend, and no public high school would take me. I didn't care. I put on my work gloves and started sorting the new scrap metal at home. "It's fine, Dad. I'm not cut out for studying anyway." "No! You have to go to college!" My dad had an obsession with college. He believed it could change destiny. His old deskmate, a poor kid, started a company after graduating. When my dad was still goofing around, that guy had already acquired my dad's family business. My dad, eyes red, pulled a certificate out of a drawer and stroked it carefully. "You are the first child in our family to get an award. You have to go to school." I leaned in, puzzled. On the bright red certificate, in gold letters: "Kindergarten Hygiene Monitor." Damn. I really don't have time for this nonsense. 02 My dad ran around town and finally found a private academy willing to take me—for an astronomical fee. He gritted his teeth and sent me there. "I'm really not cut out for this." "I don't care. The school will have a way." Helpless, since the money was paid, I had to listen to him. The day before school started, he gave me a lecture. "Little ancestor, the trouble you caused before is nothing. If you mess with these people, our family is toast." "Just get along with them, actually..." He shook his head halfway through. "That might be hard for you. Just remember, mind your own business." It was my first time commuting so far. We underestimated the morning rush hour. The highway was gridlocked. By the time I got to school, I was already half a period late. I sprinted through the campus with my backpack. Next to me, a guy in a wheelchair was also hurrying. His wheelchair was electric, but it was moving slowly. Without thinking, I grabbed the handles and pushed him into a sprint. I can't help but show off when I do a good deed. Wind rushing in my ears, I shouted, "Hey buddy, which building are you going to?" The guy in the wheelchair gritted his teeth. "I'm going home." 03 I froze, instinctively swerving left to brake. The wheelchair stopped. The guy flew out. "Ahhhh! Dude, I am so, so sorry!" I scrambled to pull him up from the ground. I accidentally used too much force. Crack. A crisp sound came from his arm. The guy was in so much pain his voice trembled. "Don't... don't touch me..." He was already in this state; might as well try to fix it. I hugged him from behind like I did with the dogs at home. Once I was sure his weight was against me, I grabbed his elbow. "What are you doing?!" "Trust me. It'll hurt, just bear with it." I lifted his elbow to the highest point. He let out a small cry of pain. The next second, crack, pop. Reset successfully. "Told you to trust me. I do this for the dogs all the time." That sounded like an insult. The guy looked up and glared at me, his expression dark. "Really sorry, buddy. Let me carry you..." I squatted down, hooked my arms under his knees and back, and princess-carried him. Suddenly suspended in the air, he instinctively wrapped his arms around my neck. A scent of mint and something bitter filled my nose. You know, for a guy with such long legs, he was pretty light. Afraid he was uncomfortable, I bounced him a little to adjust my grip. His breathing quickened, and he started struggling violently in my arms. "You barbarian! Do you have any manners?!" Against my absolute strength, he was like a kitten trying to fight a tiger. The corners of his eyes were red, his beautiful peach-blossom eyes full of rage. Pale skin, high nose, thin lips. Soft black hair falling over broad shoulders. I squinted. My heart fluttered a bit. I mean, I've never seen anyone this good-looking before. A mischievous urge scratched at my heart. I put on a fierce face. "Move again and I'll throw you in the bushes!" He went still instantly, letting me carry him. Only his mouth was still tough. "You better hope I don't find out who you are, or you're dead." I glanced at the ID card on his blazer and grinned. "Well, before I die, I'll take responsibility for you, Ethan Sterling." 04 When he fell earlier, Ethan's palms got scraped up badly. Afraid he was hurt elsewhere, I pushed him to the nurse's office. The office was busy, students hooked up to IVs everywhere. I pulled the curtain of a partition and waited outside. The nurse came out a moment later with iodine, bandages, and ointment. "Nothing serious, just scratches on the palms." Thank god. If I had broken him, my dad would have lost his mind. I took the medicine, pulled back the curtain, and ducked in. Ethan sat on the bed, silent, his fists clenched tight. I leaned close to his ear and whispered, "If you don't cooperate, I might just kiss you." "There are classmates on both sides. If you make any noise..." Ethan shuddered, his eyes filling with horror, and his hands opened instantly. I smiled until my eyes were slits. "That's a good boy." When he fell, his palms must have hit the gravel. The cuts were numerous, some deep, some shallow. He really was a rich kid; his fingers were long and pale, skin smooth and fine. My movements became gentler. After wrapping the gauze, I couldn't resist patting his hand. "You—" Ethan looked like he wanted to murder me. I acted innocent, like I hadn't done anything. "I won't tease you anymore. I'll take you to the school gate." His wounds should heal with another application of medicine tomorrow. At the gate, I stopped him. "When school lets out tomorrow afternoon, I'll come apply the medicine for you again." Ethan frowned, clearly not wanting to see me ever again. I grabbed both sides of his wheelchair and pulled, bringing his face right up to mine. I looked down at him, tapping the ID badge on his chest. "Senior Year, Honors Class, Ethan Sterling." 05 Private schools sort classes by grades. Honors Class is the best; General Class is the worst. With my grades, I was obviously in the General Class. My dad had done his research. Those who could get into the Honors Class were the elite of the elite. You needed real brains; money couldn't buy your way in. He told me to especially avoid the Honors kids. Ethan eventually got into a luxury car I didn't recognize. The driver skillfully folded the wheelchair and stowed it. Before leaving, he rolled down the window, his gaze dark and unreadable. "What is your name?" "I'll tell you tomorrow." Yeah right, that look wasn't friendly. If I told him who I was, he'd probably dig up my family's roots. Anyway, once his hands healed tomorrow, we'd have no connection. If he was still angry then, I'd just say some nice words. I'm a genius. Perfect solution. After all that drama, by the time I found the General Class, the first period was over. The homeroom teacher wore glasses and looked like a fresh college grad. Young, female, completely unable to control these rich kids. "Class, quiet down. This is our new transfer student, Riley Vance. Let's welcome her." Only the teacher clapped. The students below just stared judgmentally. I couldn't afford to mess with the teacher, and I didn't want trouble. The only empty seat was in the back row by the window. I threw my bag down and sat. It was October, the weather turning cool. If there wasn't a trash can nearby, this would be a prime sleeping spot. This period was English. This elite school taught entirely in English. I tried to piece together the few words I knew. By the time I figured out what the teacher said in the first sentence, I had no idea what question she was on. Forget it, I'll just sleep. I can tolerate the smell. While I was dozing off, people outside the window were whispering.
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