(3) Who is Brittany?

Apparently, Mike is eighty-two years old… shocker! I'd be lying if I said he looks anything close to eighty-two. This man looks like he just turned sixty.

In the span of two months and a few weeks, I've managed to uncover some things about my identity. I am, indeed, Beatrice Campbell. I turned eighteen on the twenty-first of February this year. My parents were Fabio and Fabiola Campbell—weird names if you ask me. My grandfather, Caleb Campbell, was friends with Mike, and together, they founded Kings and Queens College… cool stuff.

Then, I learned about the tragic event that befell my family. I lost them in a plane crash. I would have probably perished with them too, but while they were planning to have some fun at our vacation house, I stayed back at Mike's place to spend the holiday with his grandchildren—since we were all friends. Mike has been looking after me ever since.

I check myself in the mirror a few times before heading downstairs. Mike's grandchildren, Corey and Caleb, are already downstairs, and geez, those guys are handsome. I can't be looking anything less than pretty.

"Beatrice," I hear Mike call my name, and I quicken my pace down the stairs. I should have taken the elevator, but it's already too late to change my decision.

"Good morning, Mike," I say, giving him a side hug.

"I'm going on a business trip, and I don't know when I'll be back. Corey and Caleb will stay with you until I return."

That's not necessary—I'm old enough to stay by myself. It's not like I'll be completely alone anyway; the butler, the chauffeur, my nanny, and some other workers will be here. But who am I to say no to this offer?

Corey and Caleb staying with me is actually not a bad idea. It'd be nice to have people my age around.

"What about Clara?" I ask. I heard Clara was my closest friend, although she hasn't reached out to me since I left the hospital. Actually, none of them have. It's kind of sad, but I'm not going to dwell on it. I'm starting fresh with everyone.

"Clara won't be joining," He says

"Okay."

With that, he picks up his suitcase and leaves. I follow him to the garage, and we part ways—he gets into his car, while I step into the one already waiting for me.

"Hi, I'm Caleb." Caleb turns swiftly toward me from the passenger seat, almost giving me a jump scare.

"I'm Beatrice," I say, as if he doesn't already know who I am.

"I know who you are; I didn't lose my memory," he teases, and we both laugh at his comment.

"You must be Corey, then," I say, turning to the guy beside me. His attention had been outside the entire time, but now, he finally looks at me.

He stares intensely, saying nothing.

Is he mute? Why isn't he responding?

"He's mute," Caleb says, and instantly, a deep frown appears on Corey's face.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I didn't know he was mute."

Caleb bursts into a fit of laughter at my statement.

What's so funny?

The stern look on Corey's face deepens with every second Caleb's laughter grows louder.

These two are definitely not what I expected them to be, definitely can't qualify as my Prince Charming.

The car pulls up in front of the school gate. I wait for the chauffeur to open the door for me before stepping out.

"Took you guys long enough," a certain angry individual stands in front of the school gate, arms crossed over her chest. She's glaring at Caleb.

"Don't blame me—Beatrice made us late."

"Hi, Clara," I say as I approach her, but she completely ignores me.

"Have you copied my notes? I don't want Mr. McMillan reporting me to Grandpa again," she says, facing Corey.

"Yes, ma'am."

Yes, ma'am?

I freeze. I thought he was mute???

Caleb bursts into laughter at my genuinely confused expression. What is with these people?

One is a clown. The other is a pretentious, arrogant boy. And their sister—who's supposed to be my friend—just blatantly snubbed me.

Clara tosses her backpack at Corey before walking into the school building, not even acknowledging my presence.

Maybe we weren't as close as I thought we were.

Morning classes come and go, but all I can think about is Brittany.

No one has spoken to me since I stepped into this class, and it makes me wonder—did I even have friends? How much could have changed in the one year I spent in the hospital?

Perhaps my absence made everyone move on with their lives?

This shouldn't be my concern right now.

I should be focusing on getting information about Brittany. I need to know who she is. If she lived or died. I need something.

During lunch, I stay back in class while everyone else heads to the cafeteria. My eyes land on a particular dashboard on the wall.

On top, bold letters read:

HIERARCHY

Below it, a list of students and their net worths. What is this nonsense? Hierarchy? What a joke.

The top three spots belong to the Belmore triplets—Corey Belmore, Caleb Belmore, and Clara Belmore.

I'm fourth on the list, followed by Blake O'Brien.

All five names are written in gold, while the other names—ranging from sixth to fiftieth—are in black. I wonder who came up with this discriminatory idea.

I scan through the list, searching for Brittany's name.

Nothing. Maybe she's not in my class…

This won't do, I need to talk to someone who might be able to help

"Not going for lunch?" A voice comes from the entrance of the classroom.

Caleb.

He's grinning at me.

"I'm good, thanks," I reply.

As I'm about to leave, a thought strikes me—why not ask Caleb?

He's the only one who's actually spoken to me today.

"Hey, Caleb."

"What's up?" I hesitate for a moment but then go for it.

"Do you know anyone named Brittany?"

He looks puzzled. "No, I don't. Who's that?"

She's definitely not my classmate… But I am sure I saw her that day.

"Uhm… do you, perhaps know if any student… tried to you know…" I look at him hesitantly.

"This?" He says, sliding his thumb over his Adam's apple.

I nod in agreement, yes that's what I mean.

"Nothing like that has ever happened in this school."