7. Seven
7
SEVEN
ELIANA RICHARDS
High School, 2014
Diary Entry
I need to become the class's best.
It’s the only acceptable outcome for Dad. He’d made that very clear yesterday when we got the results for the English exam. I got a 98 out of 100 which is phenomenal, especially because I only lost two points because our teacher interpreted one of my answers differently than what I intended to write.
Lessons learned, I need to focus on clearly expressing my thoughts for the next exams.
The only thing that I didn’t dare to tell Dad was that Peter got the full 100 points. That arrogant asshole even came to me after the exam, with a shit-eating grin on his face, and asked for my results. I wanted to punch his face when I heard him say, “Oh, I’m sorry you’re missing two points. I got 100”.
Of course, he was not sorry. He just wanted to brag.
We’re juniors now, so I needed to make sure to get as many points as possible because for potential scholarships, being good in senior year wasn’t enough. Especially for the scholarships I was looking for. If they spend thousands of dollars into a single candidate, they wanted to make sure that said candidate was able to perform constantly. They don’t need a one hit wonder.
I want to save the world.
I want to make sure that no one is in danger or needs to suffer.
But for that, I need to become the best and get a scholarship to join the CIA. Dad would never pay for college, that’s for sure. Mihaela told me that the café near campus is looking for someone to help out. She said that it would be a good idea to earn my own money and be more independent from Dad. But if I spend a couple of afternoons in the café for work, I won’t have enough time to study for the exams.
Which would ultimately lead to more 98/100 points exams.
Unacceptable.
I wonder if Peter has to study as hard for exams as I do, or if he’s not only rich, but also naturally smart.
Bet he is.
He won the genetic lottery. His parents could pay enough money that Peter would get into the most expensive colleges without even having good grades. That’s how this fucking society works.
It’s not girls who run the world.
It’s money.
And money is the one thing Peter Davis has enough of.
It will not make up for the lack of empathy, ability to read a room, modesty, sympathy, athletic ability…
Well, he was kinda athletic.
At least that is what the girls are hushing about ever since Peter was sleeping with Melissa, who couldn’t stop talking about his toned muscles. It makes sense, even though I don’t like to admit it. He’s a football player and apparently not a bad one. I never cared about our high school team, as I’d always been an ice hockey girly, which was the one sport we didn’t have a team of. It was also one of the only interests dad and I shared.
Sitting next to each other on the couch and watching NHL together is the only time Dad and I get along pretty well. Of course we don’t speak, but that doesn’t matter.
“If you were a boy, you could have a career in hockey but unfortunately you decided to grow a vagina instead of balls,” he said to me once.
He’s not wrong, though. A sports scholarship would have been easier to get than the CIA one I’m rooting for.
But here we are. And until I finally make it into the Agency, I need to kick my own ass and defeat Peter in becoming class’s best!