Classes went as usual….
Time for break.
Since I can't afford a basic lunch like the others, me and Leah have this everyday meal we get — burger and milk.
Yeah, it's little, but that's what we could afford.
Although Leah can afford more — she comes from a middle-class family, not poor, not rich — but I don't like depending on other people's money. And she understands that.
Instead of buying me fancy stuff or trying to "help," she simply chooses to eat whatever I pick. No drama. No pity.
"Can we just hurry up with the food? We have a swimming class to attend to," I said to Leah, my mouth full of burger, struggling to chew it down my throat.
"But that doesn't mean you have to fill your mouth like you're about to die anytime soon," she said with a smirk, sipping her milk slowly like some rich kid in a movie.
I rolled my eyes. "Common, I just don't want to miss the class. I want to go there fast before Annabel's gang reach."
Oh — you must be wondering — who is Annabel?
Let me explain a little.
She's… well, a bitch.
She pretends to be so sweet when teachers or elders are around, wearing this perfect angelic mask.
But to the rest of us — the ones she sees as "below her" because we don't have millions stacked up — she shows her true self.
Nasty, arrogant, full of herself.
Her father is one of the school's shareholders, so she walks around like she owns the building.
She's dull as a fish but acts smart. Sharp tongue, no real brains.
Still, she's beautiful, curvy, with that type of body and face that every guy seems to dream about.
Every guy's crush. Every girl's nightmare.
"Come on, let's move before she starts her drama," I said, grabbing my bag.
We headed to the changing rooms, quickly slipping into our swimsuits — mine already getting tight, but still hanging on for dear life. Leah looked cute in hers; simple blue one-piece, no fancy designer names shouting off it like Annabel's crew.
By the time we got to the pool, a crowd was already forming.
Swimming class was one thing. But today was different.
Today was a challenge — between Annabel's group and, well… us.
"Looks like the charity cases decided to show up," Annabel said loudly, flipping her wet hair like she was some model in a shampoo advert.
I clenched my fists but forced a fake smile.
Let them talk.
The water would speak louder than their mouths.
Coach whistled sharply. "Teams ready! First team to swim two laps wins."
I glanced at Leah. She nodded back at me — no words needed.
We dove in together.
The water hit me like a slap, cold and sharp, but familiar. I kicked hard, arms slicing through the water, letting my anger fuel me.
Every snide comment, every fake smile, every time Annabel looked down on me — I poured all of it into my strokes.
I could hear the noise above the water, the shouting, the excitement.
But inside the water, it was just me. Just the goal.
When I lifted my head for a quick breath, I caught a glimpse of Annabel struggling behind her teammates — too much posing, not enough training.
Leah was ahead too, her strokes strong and steady.
We hit the finish line almost at the same time, side by side.
The coach blew the whistle.
"Winners — Amelia and Leah!"
The crowd cheered — some genuinely, some out of spite for Annabel's gang.
I climbed out of the pool, dripping wet, breathing heavily but smiling for real this time.
Annabel stood there, arms crossed, face twisted in anger, looking like she was ready to explode.
And honestly?
It felt damn good.