Posing as the Billionaire's Grandson

The shrill beeping of my watch alarm jolted me awake. I fumbled to silence it, squinting at the early morning light filtering through the dingy curtains. 

With a sigh, I hauled myself up and shuffled to the bathroom down the hall. The frigid water shocked me into full wakefulness as I splashed my face. Scrubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stared back at my reflection in the spotted mirror. Stringy blond hair fell across a bony face dominated by thick eyebrows and owlish glasses. I looked like a scarecrow brought to life.

After changing into my uniform - a secondhand blazer and slacks whose faded gray hue mirrored my own nondescript presence - I headed downstairs to the bustling dining hall. Students filled the tables, boisterous and lively in crisp uniforms as they devoured plates of eggs and toast. The savory scents made my stomach rumble.

I joined the line for lukewarm oatmeal, keeping my eyes downcast. Their chatter and laughter enveloped me, yet I may as well have been a ghost drifting through the halls of the living. 

"Hey scholarship kid! Enjoy your gruel!" someone jeered as I passed by. My shoulders hunched but I kept moving. Don't make eye contact.

Let's be real, Wellington Prep is basically a prison for rich kids. A fancy STEM school on the outside, but inside it's three years of isolation for all the teens mommy and daddy couldn't handle. Can't blame them though. 

I found an empty table tucked away in the corner and sat down with my lumpy oatmeal. As I forced it down, I opened my beaten-up physics textbook to where I'd left off. The formulas and proofs just clicked in my brain in a way most things didn't. Guess that's why I lucked into the Wellington scholarship - one thing I'm actually good at.

Science was the only class I could stand here. The other guys just wanted good grades to pad their college apps. But I genuinely dug physics and chem. Building machines and tinkering with circuits was my happy place. Too bad the other dudes valued money over knowledge. getting the scholarship was the best thing that happened to me. But now I get why so many brilliant students still drop out. This place crushes real curiosity. 

The bell rang, signaling the start of classes. Begrudgingly, I closed my book and headed upstairs. The halls teemed with students now. A group of boys knocked into me, snickering.

"Out of the way, rat," one sneered. I caught myself against the lockers, blinking behind my glasses. They continued without a glance back, just another bump in their path.

After a moment, I steadied my breath and continued on. Blending into the background was a finely-honed skill when you were the charity case at an elite boarding school full of trust fund progeny. Keep quiet, keep your head down, and avoid trouble. That was how to survive.

I slid into my seat in AP Physics just as the final bell rang. Mr. Castle breezed in, signaling the start of class.

"Alright, let's talk about momentum today. Can anyone define it for us?"

My hand shot up. "Momentum is the product of an object's mass and velocity."  

Mr. Castle nodded approvingly. "Precisely. Let's unpack that..."

As the lesson continued, I took meticulous notes, filling page after page with equations and diagrams. Science came naturally, its orderly rules and predictable patterns were the only thing that made sense sometimes. The classroom door banged open halfway through class, cutting off Mr. Castle's lecture on impulse. All heads swiveled to the disruption. 

Paul Auclair strolled in late again, tossing his blond hair out of his bloodshot eyes. The dude reeked of cigarette smoke and booze under a thick cloud of cologne. Of course, none of the teachers said a thing. Rich kids get to break all the rules here while the staff just keeps their heads down. Can't really blame them I guess, making minimum wage wasn’t enough to babysit a bunch of spoiled brats.

"Mr. Auclair, how nice of you to join us," Mr. Castle said tightly.

Paul just smirked and headed for the back row, his posse of cronies chuckling. He threw himself into the seat behind me, kicking my chair as he sprawled out. I gritted my teeth and ignored him. This jerk waltzes in wasted whenever he wants to "deal with the stress" of his cushy life.

"What'd I miss?" Paul stage-whispered to his friend, not bothering to lower his voice.

Mr. Castle's glasses glinted as he turned back to the board. "As I was saying, when objects collide, they exchange momentum..."

As the lecture continued, I struggled to focus with Paul distracting the class, crunching on chips and flicking spitballs when Mr. Castle's back was turned. Each time I tensed, waiting for one to hit me, but he was avoiding me for now. Small mercies.

The bell rang and I was up and out the door before Paul could trip me. Just gotta make it through a few more semesters of being Paul's punching bag. Once I graduate, I'll take my diploma and get far away from this nuthouse. I navigated the crowded hallway, a shadow passing unseen from class to class. Calculus, English, History - the classes blurred together, a monotonous routine I could lose myself in. 

Lunch finally came. I'd packed my usual cheap peanut butter sandwich. As I headed for my quiet corner table, a leg shot out in my path, sending me crashing to the floor. Laughter erupted around me as my sandwich skidded across the dirty tiles. 

"Whoops! You should look where you're going, klutz," Paul sneered down at me, high-fiving one of his chuckling lackeys. I stared at the floor, face burning as I gathered my spilled lunch. 

Keep quiet, don't make a scene. I repeated my mantra, climbing to my feet. Before I could escape, Paul snatched up my textbook. 

"What's this nerd reading anyway?" He held it up, squinting at the title. "Quantum Physics? What are you, a human calculator?"

I lunged for the book. "Give it back, please." The group just laughed louder. 

Paul waved it out of my grasp. His handsome features twisted into a cruel smirk, daring me to challenge him. Jaw clenched, I met his gaze. 

Something vicious sparked in his bloodshot eyes. Without warning, he ripped the book in half, pages floating down around us like feathers. 

"Must have been defective," Paul said breezily as I stared at the tattered binding in dismay. "I was doing you a favor, buddy."

He brushed past me, cronies on his heels. I knelt silently, gathering the crumpled pages as the cafeteria chatter resumed, oblivious to what happened. No one dared stand up to the heir of the Auclair empire.

Hands shaking, I tried in vain to keep the pages in order. This textbook represented a month's worth of my meager allowance. I had no way to replace it. 

The bell rang. I trudged to my next class, sinking into my seat with a defeated sigh. But I refused to give Paul the satisfaction of seeing me broken. I'd endure this like everything else life had thrown at me.

As the day dragged on, I avoided crossing paths with Paul again. Soon the final bell rang. I lingered in the library, waiting for the halls to clear to avoid any stray elbows or sneers on my way out. 

Night fell as I walked back to my cramped dorm after another stellar day of being Paul's punching bag. My tiny room was drafty as usual, the old radiator wheezing and clanking but giving zero heat. Even though I lived only 30 minutes away, the school let me stay here since I don't have much at home. Gotta admit that's a nice bonus.

My room's not like the other dudes' though. No fingerprint lock, smart temperature controls, or any fancy tech. I've just got some old gadgets they pulled out of storage, stuff not even good enough for the school's hand-me-down file.

My eyes landed on the tattered remains of my physics textbook sitting on my beat-up desk. Paul's little stunt today had left half the pages ripped out and the binding busted.

I picked it up gently, running my fingers over the wrinkled cover. Sure, I could ask for a new textbook. But then I'd have to explain what happened and probably get labeled a troublemaker. Easier to just fix it myself.

I vowed I'd tape each page back in place, even if it took all night. Paul could vandalize my stuff but he couldn't break my spirit. His cruelty was just another bump in the road that I'd leave behind soon enough. No rich punk could take my love of science away, no matter how many textbooks he shredded. 

Exhausted after the day's drama, I finally bundled up in my lumpy mattress under the frayed blanket older than me. As I drifted off, I repeated my new mantra - you've got this, Adam. Just take it one day at a time.