Elliot Adams woke up five minutes before his alarm clock was meant to go off that Friday morning. It may have been a pure coincidence, or it may have been due to the fact that he had that art history test today which he was going to pass with flying colors.

He didn't like to brag

yes, he actually kind of did

, but he had been 'student of the year' ever since he came to St. Mark's Private School in year 1. Now he was in his last year of school, ready to graduate and go to University in London to study economics like his father, and then take on the family business.

His father was the CEO of the biggest investment company in England and his mother was the best lawyer in England. They got married a year before Elliot was born and moved from London to Doncaster, where his father's business took off. They bought a big mansion and gave birth to five more girls and a boy. They were also a big part of the Christian community in his town. They went to church every Sunday, where his parents were big donors, just like they were to his school.

So you could say everything Elliot had was thanks to his parents. And he didn't mind. He liked being spoiled, he liked being envied by his classmates and wanted by all the girls in his school. Of course, no matter how many girls wanted him, he'd always stay loyal to his girlfriend since year 7, Samantha Burton. She was third best in his year, right after his best friend Liam Brooks.

The three of them had big plans for the future; graduate on top of their class, move to London and study at Oxford.

The constant ringing of his alarm clock snapped Elliot out of his daydreaming, and he sighed as he slapped his palm against the top of it. He rolled out of bed before he went straight to the mirror to see if any kind of impurities appeared on his face over night.

If he was the perfect student and son, he had to be perfect in looks to. The only thing he didn't like about himself was his tummy and thick, woman thighs. His mother had hired a personal trainer a year ago, when things 'started getting out of control with his eating habits'. To be honest, it wasn't his fault that his parents

his parents' chef to be more exact

put five different kinds of food every day on the table.

He turned sideways and placed a hand on his tummy, which was still here no matter what. He sucked in, because that way his stomach seemed somewhat flat. He sighed and let the air out before he went into his dressing to pick out his shirt for the day. He had gotten a whole new wardrobe one month ago, right before school had started.

It pretty much consisted of button—up shirts, blazers, Tommy Hilfiger V—necks, tight jeans and suspenders. His shoes varied from TOMS to converse

which he rarely wore

and his formal dress shoes that were part of his uniform.

After he had finished washing up and dressing up, he grabbed his already packed backpack and walked down the two long flights of marble stairs. He found his family already at the dining table; waiting for him so they could say their prayer before they began eating. He sat down next to Charlotte and dropped the bag at the foot of the chair, before putting his hands together.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" his mother asked, looking at him from across the table. "Um, I don't think so, no." Elliot answered as he cut his scrambled eggs. "Why?"

"Your dad and I have a party to attend in London tonight, so Elena will most probably come over to stay the night."

Elena was their babysitter ever since Elliot was a little kid, and even though he could perfectly take care of himself at his age, the girls still needed supervision and Elliot couldn't be bothered with them.

After they finished eating one of the maids came to clean up and they made their way out of the house to the car that was waiting for them right outside, ready to take them to school. The twins were starting their third year there; Fiona was starting her seventh and Charlotte her eight.

When he got to school he couldn't help but smile because he could feel a lot of eyes on him. He adjusted his backpack and kept walking, sending a few smiles towards a group of girls who were huddled together, elbowing each other.

Ninth graders, he though shaking his head.

He spotted Liam right outside his classroom, talking to Barbara Clarke and Samantha. He knew Barbara; mainly because of her good looks, but also for the fact that there had been a rumor going around that she was sleeping with James Benson, the blonde irish guy in year 12 that went to the public school right across the street.

If there was one thing Elliot Adams couldn't stand, it was the fact that there was a public school across the street from St. Mark's. It was a bit inconsiderate in his opinion, to put about two thousand people in a shitty building right across from the best school in Doncaster.

To make matters worse, his seat was right in the front of his classroom, right by the window so all he had to do was turn his head to the left and he could see the old building. He walked past it every single day to the spot where he was supposed to get picked up by his private chauffeur and he could say he was kind of disgusted.

Those kids had absolutely no manners; they were spitting on the ground, smoking in public, laughing loudly and swearing like sailors. They didn't even wear uniforms and some of them had tattoos, which, in Elliot's opinion was a complete waste of their bodies.