Get Over It Pt. 01

Once it was complete, she stared at the paper, pensively smiling before she flickered her big eyes towards me. Before she even spoke, I sensed she was up to something. "I think, maybe..." she trailed off amidst hesitation, before her blue eyes were staring at me so deeply, void of any self-presence or compassion. "Maybe, you know, it would be easier if you just do it for me?" She wiggled her polished fingers over the papers. "You know, instead of wasting all this time sitting here like this?"

There was a silence while that hung in the air, my head cocking as I struggled to believe what I'd heard. Was it a joke? But, her appeared so serious. "W-What?" I asked, in total surprise. "Meredith, I can't do that?"

"Why not?" she asked, with the same baffled, oblivious ignorance. "You're better at it, and I need your help." She screwed her face up while staring at the questions on her laptop. "Do you know how stressful this is for me?" She flapped her hand towards herself in a make-shift fan. "It's really not good for my anxiety."

It was my turn to stare at her baffled. What the hell did Meredith have to be anxious about? She had everything! And now...she wanted more? Not only had she bought her way into this prestigious school, but now she didn't actually want to do any of the work? "Because...because it's wrong, Meredith," I said, confused that I even had to explain why. I mean, I knew she was oblivious to how the real world worked, especially from her privileged life, but, come on, this was blatant, obvious cheating. "It's morally wrong."

"But you'll be helping me," she said, with an almost air of innocence. "What's wrong about that? We're supposed to help each other at this school, right?" She shrugged, and swerved her eyes to the side. "Besides, you do your own work so quickly, right? So, you have a lot of free time."

I had to swallow in a panic, as it seemed that I was just hitting a brick wall with whatever logical point I was trying to make. "Because it's your work, not mine. It's not right that you don't do it yourself." When I noticed there was no inkling of rationale in her bright eyes, I tried to tug at her pride. "You want to achieve things yourself, right? You want to be proud of graduating on your own merit?"

Meredith simply shrugged, apparently unfazed at my attempts. "I'm not really bothered," she said. "I just want this over with. Daddy says it'll look good when people know I went to this school." She rolled her eyes. "It'll give me more credibility when on a board."

"Oh," I said, and her father's logic totally made sense. It did mean a lot to go to this school, that's why it was such a big deal that I went here. It would look pretty damn good on your record, for sure. Still, it irked me slightly that Meredith's future was already set in stone: she was going to be on the board of some notable company, even if she neither deserved to be or had worked hard for it. That's just how unfair the world was, and rich, pretty girls like her always had a free ride. Meanwhile, I'd still be struggling after graduation, even if I did finish top of the class. My next steps were once again a scholarship for college, and though I had my eyes on one in particular, it wasn't cemented in place like Meredith's career apparently was. Worse still, I knew if I didn't land a scholarship, then further education was completely out of the question, regardless of any impressive grades I achieved at Winslow. Colleges cost money, however good you were, and if a scholarship didn't take a punt on me, well, then the dream was over and I'd have to look for a job straight out of school. The thought left me feeling nauseous on many a night as I struggled to drift off to sleep. "Well, it just wouldn't be right." I nodded my head. "I have principles, and this kind of goes against them. I worked hard to attend this school, and hard work—"

"I'll pay you," she said without hesitation, one eyebrow raised. "You know, like I pay you to do my laundry?"

There was a slight tightening in my chest. Did she really think I could just be bought off like that? I mean, I didn't want to do her laundry, and if the incentive of money hadn't been there, well, then I certainly wouldn't have been doing it. Despite being paid, it was deathly humiliating, to waste my time laundering her clothes, then fold them for her while she relaxed with her feet up. Each time I stood at the end of her bed, obediently folding her laundry as she expected, I'd be taunted by the sight of her bare feet, crossed at the ankles, her soles annoyingly soft from not having had to walk back and forth to the laundry room. On top of that, it was relegating me to the role of 'hired help' in her life, someone that should just do her bidding for some pitiful monetary payment. I even felt somewhat guilty, because my acceptance of that role in her life had obviously emboldened her to try and extend it to her schoolwork too. I knew how simple-minded she was, and she was just taking things as she saw them.

However, doing her schoolwork was an entirely different thing to laundry. It wasn't some laborious, annoying chore, but instead would be at the very heart of her future, academic career, and form the basis of whatever profession lay head of her, whether that be sitting on a board or otherwise. But, I supposed, that's how life always went when your family was as wealthy as hers. Money made the world go around, and whenever she wanted something, she could simply buy someone off. However, I had my pride, and despite extra money being welcome, this was simply a step too far. "That's not cool, Meredith," I said, already fearing that this was going to cause an argument between us. I mean, I really hadn't had strong words with her before, because I always caved to her opinions and decisions, simply wanting to keep things amicable and remain in her orbit during lunch breaks. The only time I'd ever really spoken up to her was when she was being disdainful towards the homeless guy, and how had that ended up? She hadn't listened to a word I'd said anyway. Still, this was a whole other calibre of entitlement she was springing on me, and she couldn't possibly believe that I'd willingly do her work for her. "You can't just throw money around when you want to get your own way. That's unfair."

Meredith's pretty face recoiled slightly. "Why not? I need my work done, and you need the money, don't you?"

"That's not the point—"

"You don't want money?" she asked curiously. "You don't...need it?"

"Well...that's not the point."

"Do you want money or not?" She made a reach for her purse across the desk, however, I'd already abruptly stood.

"Meredith, I will not do your work for you."

With that, while she looked at me with surprised astonishment, I rapidly collected my things and fled to the library. As always, it was a safe haven, and I knew that Meredith would never step foot in there.

Things were muted for the next two weeks. Though Meredith did ask for help another time with her work, I maintained boundaries and only acted as a tutor. She didn't ask for me to do it for her again, so clearly, for once, she had heeded my reluctance and finally accepted that she couldn't always get things her way.

I took that as a positive, and since she was respecting my morals, I went about keeping the room tidy without complaint. Another two laundry loads were washed and folded to her expectations, and in return, I received the agreed payment. I'd been saving up the money to buy something nice for my mother, rather than putting it towards activities at school. There was the option to buy extra in the cafeteria, but I was satisfied with the inclusive meal and felt like anything extra was unnecessary.

At lunch on the Friday, I sat down for the usual meal, Meredith decidedly absent, when two of the other rich girls had taken the seats opposite. Immediately, my defensive senses kicked in, as this wasn't something that usually happened. More so, it had been happening a lot less since Meredith's arrival at the school, but it seemed some of the girls weren't yet done with me.

"Hey, Schofia," the one said with a vicious sneer. "What's on the menu?"

I grimaced, hating that stupid nickname they'd come up with for me. One of the girls had thought of it on the spot, combining 'scholarship' with my name, Sofia, and from then on, I'd been known as Schofia to the sniggering lot of bullies. It was a constant reminder whenever I encountered them, that I'd always be beneath them, and however well I performed, I was only attending the school because of a 'handout' as they so cruelly reminded me.

She looked down at my tray, rolling her eyes. "You're having the prison lunch, as usual, are you?"

My eyes flickered to her own tray, with all of the extravagant extras in tow. "Do you want something?" I asked impatiently, the hairs already standing up on the back of my neck as my discomfort rose.

She squinted, pursing her lips. "Do you even know what real food tastes like?" She dismissively flicked her fingers against my tray, causing some of my water to spill on the mashed potatoes and baked beans. "What's it like eating scraps anyway?" She pointed towards her own plate, before lifting the chocolate-almond croissant and taking a bite. While I watched, she moved it over my tray, before scrunching it, sprinkling down a load of pastry flakes all over my lunch. "There you go, some seasoning for your beggar meal."

Rather than getting up and leaving, or pushing her away, or even demanding she replace my food; instead, I sniffled, and felt helpless and alone as the tears began to collect in the corner of my eyes. It was pathetic, and weak, and I was terribly embarrassed, but I just didn't know how to defend myself against girls like this, especially when I was apparently squatting in their territory.

"Awww, are you going to cry?" she asked. "What's wrong? Your protector not—" Her eyes suddenly widened, and she hurriedly looked down and away from me.

"What's going on?" I heard from behind me, and the voice was so distinctively posh, English and cultured that I knew it could have only come from one source. The invasive, intoxicating scent of her expensive perfume immediately put me at ease. "Hi roomie," Meredith said, as she slipped into the seat next to me. "You're making some friends, are you?"

"No, I'm not," I whispered, while still too afraid to look the other girls in the eye. I glanced towards Meredith, glumly tightening my lips and widening my eyes in a desperate plea.

Meredith tutted, then she looked towards the two girls. While they watched, she reached over and took a slice of sourdough toast from the one girl's plate; mashed avocado mounted on top. The girls looked on sheepishly, while Meredith took a crunching bite; her lipstick evident on the corner of the bread, before she threw it back on the plate with a splat. "Is there a problem here?" She cocked her head, rolling her eyes up and down while focusing on the girl that had been bothering me. "Cecilia, right?" she asked, while tapping her fingers against her lips. "How's your mum doing? Daddy said her membership at Howells Country Club is up for renewal soon, is that correct?" Meredith suddenly turned, flicking a hand towards me as she spoke as if we were old friends. "Do you know to access that club, you have to be vouched for by a life-time member? It's like, Old England company. It's terribly exclusive, but it comes with so many perks." She turned back towards Cecilia, her eyes slowly surveying the girl as she stewed in her seat. "Daddy vouched for her last time, right? Your family is always there during your vacations to England, right?"

"We should leave you to it," Cecilia said nervously, and as the two girls looked at each other with trepidation, they fumbled with their trays before moving to another table.

I swallowed a sigh of relief, before I turned towards Meredith. I couldn't meet her eye, slightly embarrassed by how on the ropes the pair of witches had me before she'd arrived. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't mention it, roomie," she said, before taking out her phone. She then paused mid-text, while turning to wink at me with a dazzling smile of reassurance. "You look after me, and I'll look after you."

I was so in awe of her confidence and composure, that I silently finished my lunch while Meredith continued to play around on her phone. Afterwards, we attended the final class of the afternoon together; I hurriedly taking notes, while Meredith seemed to be lost in a daze, staring at the wall and barely paying attention. Still, I felt immensely proud that she was sat next to me, and I couldn't help looking around the class constantly, checking if anyone else was paying attention to whose company I was keeping.

Once we headed back to the room, she kicked off her shiny, leather mules, before scooting back on her bed and getting comfortable. I'd had a quick look around, and as I was still slightly embarrassed by how she'd needed to come to my rescue, I busied myself with some cleaning as a distraction. Throughout, Meredith relaxed on her bed and appeared to be doing nothing more interesting than wasting time on social media. This was a regular occurrence, and usually how she spent her free time while I handled the chores. As I tidied up, I noted how in the past Meredith had used the old tactic of weaponised incompetence. On the few occasions I'd tried to get her involved, she'd always complained that she didn't know how to do it, because she had a maid for that, or that she was too tired or whatever. More recently, I'd kind of settled into a routine, and I'd sort of convinced myself that if Meredith wasn't sharing with me, well, then I'd still have to clean the room anyway, wouldn't I? I'd done so for the year where she wasn't even at the school, so it wasn't like it was a completely foreign activity for me. I was kind of deluding myself, but it made the whole process pass by with a bit more ease.

"Thanks for doing that," she said, in a rare offering of gratitude. "I'm so exhausted from class."

I paused while I was sweeping the floor near the shared bathroom, scratching my head while recalling that I'd only seen her in one class that day: the one we'd attended together. She'd missed the first two, sleeping in instead, and had only emerged during lunch. Of course, I was thankful for her intervention, as she'd literally saved my ass, but still, it was hardly an exhausting day for her, was it?

I turned and looked at her, thinking about saying something, but my eyes were drawn down to her bare feet, crossed at the ankles while her toes were clutching at each other. Her soles appeared a little moist and clammy, evidently from being trapped in those tight, classy mules for her short excursion for lunch and her daydream through class. There was always something about her bare feet that got to me. I mean, she was free to be barefoot in the room as much as she wanted, but still, it always seemed to grab my attention. It was kind of grating that every time I was doing the chores, that I was forced to see Meredith relaxing with her feet up. It was as if it was an extra annoyance that she enjoyed putting me through, though more likely, she was probably oblivious to its effect on me. Whenever I cleaned, or folded her laundry, I couldn't help but sneak glances at her feet with resentment. It was like that simple posture of crossed ankles, with soles bared in my direction, communicated so much. She got to relax, while I did the work, and her flexed soles and wiggling toes were a silent celebration of that. On top of that, her pink, fleshy soles always appeared so soft and pampered, with no blight in sight, not a single callus or patch of dried skin. Just like the rest of her, everything was pruned and coddled, delicate and protected away from the harshness of reality.

As I flicked my eyes up between sweeps, watching her soles wrinkle and lamenting the fact that the chores were mine alone, I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I froze, mid-sweep, as I felt a warm, almost fluid-like tingling up my spine as I sensed a pair of eyes boring through me. Upon apprehensively peeking up from her feet, almost with an impending sense of doom, I confirmed that Meredith was staring at me. Her head was cocked, blue eyes shimmering with curiosity as she rolled a few strands of her silky brown hair around her finger.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, while stroking the sole of one foot with the big toe of the other. Again, I couldn't help but drop my eyes, just in time to catch her pink toenail scratching into the wrinkles of her arch. She was ridiculously feminine throughout her whole body, with even her feet being more girly than anything I had to offer. Her pleated skirt allowed a full glimpse of her smooth, toned legs, right down to the dainty feet that I was inexplicably leering at once more.

I was momentarily flustered, and I swept the same corner I'd already thoroughly cleaned. "Ummm, I, nothing. Just thinking about stuff."

Meredith narrowed her eyes at me slightly, before she uncrossed her ankles, placing her feet side by side; both soles pointed right at me. Again, she dipped her head, observing my nervous twitching, before she extravagantly crossed her feet once more, switching the one on top. Despite trying to resist, I couldn't help by give her soles a final, sneaky glimpse, before I turned towards the bathroom and swept in the other direction.

I heard her humph slightly to herself, and when I stole a look over my shoulder, I saw she was fully engaged in her phone once more; her toes resuming the same scratching motion along her sole, before they tugged and pulled at one another.

For the next few minutes, while I finished up with the sweeping, I made a conscious effort to keep my eyes away from her. For some reason, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, concerned that Meredith had noticed my lingering looks, and that she'd completely misinterpreted the reasoning. I emptied the pan into the trash, and was just about to head into the bathroom, when Meredith called out to me from her bed. "Hey, can you come here for a second?"

I paused at the door, my cheeks twitching with anticipation at whatever demand or request was about to come my way. It was common for Meredith to ask me to do things when I was nearby. I mean, why would she bother to get up and grab something from her desk when she could just ask me to do it? It didn't take a lot of time or energy on my part, but it was always the principle of it that got to me. It's like she didn't even consider the fact that I was doing her share of the chores at that moment, and still, she pushed me to do even more. As a result, my response was a little short. "What is it now, Meredith?" I turned to look at her with impatience, just in time to see she'd uncrossed her ankles again and had lifted one foot in my direction.

Of course, my eyes were drawn to her foot and I hesitated, caught off-guard by the display of her little pink painted toenails as they scrunched; her sole lewdly wrinkled from the arching posture. I never painted my own nails because I wasn't into girly things like that, but I'd noticed over the weeks that it was just another way that Meredith was able to express her femininity. I'd never seen her painting her own nails herself, but there was a salon near the postal office, so I figured she'd headed there a couple of times between visits to the dressage field. She always maintained the same pink colour, though, it never seemed to chip or wear off.

"I'm feeling kind of tired and my feet are killing me." She nodded towards her foot, wiggling her toes while she kept it pointed in my direction. "Would you mind giving me a foot massage? You know, like a good roomie?" she asked, looking up at me with a hopeful expression. Her head cocked, her striking brown hair cascading down her shoulder, and then there was a silence as she watched me closely; lips pursed with interest, blue eyes wide, clearly poised to witness and perceive my response.