Prologue & Aesthetics

If I had to describe Garren Adler in one word, it would be surreal.

Never had I imagined such a chauvinist, arrogant tyrant to exist.

I first encountered him when I entered St. Sinclair Academy. An illustrious private school catered to the elites of society that my parents didn't spare a penny on enrolling me because I was the so-called egghead of the family and they believed I'd be going places.

In first year, I shared a literature class with Garren and I would've fallen head over heels for his looks, but his ego was a deal breaker. He thought so highly of himself that he'd say he was the second coming of Christ.

Which in fact, was what he actually did say to a Catholic girl in our year who warned him he'd go to hell from his sin of pride. He laughed so much, the girl was spooked.

On another occasion I'd never forget, the teacher told us to write about role models in our life. Most girls and boys wrote about musicians, actors or advocates. Garren Adler? He handed in an autobiography that was five thousand words long.

He got an A for it. An A.

I had done mine on Joan of Arc and got a C- because apparently, the teacher wanted role models who were currently alive or whatever. Load of bull.

What was even crazier, Garren wasn’t just highly distinguished amongst our peers for his tendencies, but also immensely popular.

Not that I wasn’t able to comprehend the reasons; the Adler lineage held a background of affluence, even exceptional to the other wealthy families and the boy was arguably charismatic. Yet, I thought that at least, in a place where most were raised with the caliber of prestige and deemed to be the chosen that moved the world wouldn’t so easily turn a blind eye to principles.

That was the first thing I learned about the elite world. Compromising morals didn’t matter if it came for free. To be seen and heard was a must overall all else.

Being Garren Adler meant you were always seen and heard and this truth horrified me.

He had his share of haters but the majority of them were blatantly jealous of his social status.

A status plenty were eager to snag a piece of and out of his avid followers, two made the cut. Garren had close friends named Will Butler and Ben McCoy. They became a part of his sphere of power in the school like his wingmen despite being two regular students. Funnily enough, they shared identical profiles with Garren; male, good looking and full of it.

He might as well have just cloned himself.

I could see Garren's motive in it all. The presence of the two sharing the rank did nothing to diminish his place. In fact, it only amplified it and made it more formidable. The students basically worshipped them and the three were unanimously known as The Aces.

I believe that was when things rapidly took a turn for the worst. It was a late April of my fourth year when the incident happened. I was eating lunch in the hall when a commotion arose at the dessert queue. The dinner lady stationed at the sector had accidentally served the wrong requested pudding flavour. Any other student probably would've paid it no mind but not Garren Adler.

He rose his voice for everyone around to hear him insult the poor dinner ladies' intelligence, her family and call her worthless all in one one urbane sentence.

I couldn't blame the lady for crying. I felt my insides turning and was shivering despite it not even being directed at me. Then he took it further by picking up the plate and dumping the dessert on her head.

I lost all belief that what was happening before me was real. Even more so, no one tried to do anything to him. Some kids were actually laughing. It was sick.

I wished that was where it ended but once my eyes could see past the veil St. Sinclair hid it’s ugly true form to fool the outside world, nothing could be unseen.

Later that same day on school property, a car was vandalised. Nobody needed to look further for why when noting the vehicle wasn’t any of the luxury models the teachers or parents drove in the excluded carparks. The car was a mundane station wagon, the kind the lowly income staff owned and the instruments used to deface it were molding platters of cakes and pies.

An assembly was organised to address the incident. At least, that was what I thought had been the point of it. I gathered in the auditorium expecting to see justice enacted like a fool and paid sorely for it. The victimised dinner lady who to no surprise was the same woman Garren ridiculed came onto the podium and expressed her grievances.

I couldn’t explain it but something felt off.

Nowhere in her statement or the headmaster’s was Garren’s name mentioned or what he'd done. They were presenting it as if this whole incident was completely unrelated to what occured at lunch.

The perpetrators who vandalised the car were caught on the CCTV cameras and easily apprehended. They were a faceless group of first years who publicly expressed their remorse for all of the grades and present board of directors to see.

The culprits compensated the dinner lady and the very next day, St. Sinclair’s name was featured on several news articles and magazines. The headlines commended the school for it’s disciplinary measures and the culprits were being praised as 'Patriotic Youths' all across social media.

Needless to say, St. Sinclair became even greater to the public and I finally understood just how insignificant 'justice' had been to this world I traded my old one for.

What I hated the most, I was too scared to leave it and go back. Just what was I meant to do? I was a mere pebble in the grand scheme of the world of the rich, hoping to make something of myself.

So, I made my choice.

***

A/N: I'd greatly appreciate feedback so if it isn't too much trouble, even just a few words in the comment section would mean a lot.

Edit: Below are the aesthetics my sister helped make so huge thanks to her. You can check out here profile itsabouttim

Now without further ado;

STEVIE POWELL | THE MAVERICK

GARREN ADLER | THE ARCHON

WILL BUTLER | THE SAINT

BEN MCCOY | THE WILDCARD