Chapter 2 The weight
Chapter 2: The Weight of the World (Elena’s POV)
The water was oily and smelled of exhaust fumes. It soaked through my sweater in seconds, clinging to my skin like a cold, wet hand. I stood there at the bus stop, my breath hitching as the roar of that matte black Porsche faded into the distance.
I didn't have to guess who it was. I knew the engine sound. I knew the arrogance of that car. Liam Vance. The boy who had everything was currently laughing his way to a party, while I was standing in the rain with exactly three dollars in my pocket and a broken umbrella.
I looked down at my bag. My heart hammered against my ribs as I checked my History textbook. It was dry, thank God. If that book got ruined, I’d have to pay the school eighty dollars to replace it—money that currently didn't exist in my world.
I finally boarded the bus, shivering as the heater struggled to fight off the night air. By the time I reached my apartment building on the edge of town, my toes were numb. I climbed the three flights of stairs, the lightbulbs flickering overhead, and stopped at my door.
"Mom? I’m home," I whispered as I walked in.
The apartment was dark. The power had been cut two hours ago. I saw my mother sitting at the small kitchen table, a single candle burning in front of her. She looked smaller than she had this morning, her shoulders slumped in a way that made my stomach twist.
"They came today, Elena," she said, her voice hollow. "The landlord. He said we have until Monday morning. If the back rent isn't paid, he’s changing the locks."
I dropped my bag on the floor and walked over to her, rubbing her thin shoulders. "I know, Mom. I know. But I have news. The school... they offered me a deal."
I explained the "Academic Oversight" program. I told her about the housing stipend, the meal card, and the guest cottage on the Vance estate. I left out the part about who I would be tutoring. I left out the part where the boy I was supposed to save was the same one who had just tried to drown me in a puddle.
"The Vance family?" my mother asked, her eyes widening. "The ones who own the factories? Elena, that’s a different world. Are you sure you’ll be safe there?"
"It’s just a job, Mom," I lied, forcing a smile. "I’ll be a 'glorified babysitter' for their son. But it pays enough to get you into that studio apartment near your new job, and it keeps my scholarship safe. We have to take it."
That night, I didn't sleep. I packed my life into two cardboard boxes and an old duffel bag. My life was mostly paper—books, notebooks, and folders. I had three sweaters, two pairs of jeans, and a single dress I’d bought at a thrift store for my tenth-grade formal.
I looked at my failed exam paper—not mine, but Liam’s. The Principal had given it to me as a "reference." A big, ugly red F.
Liam Vance was a "God" at Northview High. He was the king of the hallways, the boy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. But looking at his sloppy handwriting and the way he’d completely missed the point of the ethics essay, I didn't see a God. I saw a spoiled, lazy boy who had never been told "no" in his entire life.
He thought life was a game played on ice. He didn't know what it was like to count pennies for a bus ride. He didn't know the sound of a landlord’s knuckles on the door at 6 AM.
The next morning, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when the black town car sent by the Vance family pulled up to our crumbling apartment building. The driver looked at the peeling paint and the overflowing trash cans with a disgusted expression, but he didn't say anything as he loaded my two boxes into the trunk.
I kissed my mother goodbye, promising to call her every night, and climbed into the back seat. The leather was soft and smelled like wealth. It felt wrong to sit there, my damp sneakers resting on the expensive floor mats.
As we drove through the gates of the Vance estate, my breath caught. It wasn't just a house; it was a fortress. Manicured lawns, stone fountains, and a driveway that seemed to go on forever. On the far side of the main mansion sat a small, beautiful stone cottage.
"This is your residence, Miss Vance," the driver said, dropping my boxes on the porch. "The young master is expected in the library of the main house at 6 AM sharp. You are expected to be there to meet him."
I checked my watch. 5:50 AM.
I didn't even unpack. I splashed cold water on my face in the cottage’s marble bathroom—which was nicer than our entire old apartment—and pulled my hair into a tight, professional bun. I put on my glasses, grabbed my heavy bag, and marched toward the main house.
The library was a cavernous room filled with thousands of books, smelling of old leather and expensive wax. I sat at the massive oak table in the center, laying out my pens and the "F" grade paper.
At exactly 6:05 AM, the heavy oak doors swung open.
Liam walked in. He wasn't in his hockey gear now. He was wearing a designer hoodie and joggers that probably cost more than my mother made in a month. He looked tired, his hair a mess, and his blue eyes were clouded with irritation.
He didn't even see me at first. He walked to the window, yawning. "Look, whoever you are, let's make this fast. I have a hangover, and I really don't care about whatever 'peer-to-peer' nonsense the Principal is selling."
I didn't say anything. I just cleared my throat.
Liam froze. He turned around slowly, his eyes narrowing as they landed on me. He looked at my faded sweater, my thick glasses, and then at the desk where I had placed his failed exam.
"You," he breathed out, the word sounding like an insult. "The girl from the bus stop."
"The girl you splashed," I corrected him. My voice was calm, but inside, I was a storm of ice. "My name is Elena. And for the next three months, I am the only person who can stop you from being kicked off the team."
Liam let out a harsh, dry laugh. He walked over to the table, leaning his hands on the wood and looming over me. "You think because you moved into my backyard, you have power? You're a guest, Elena. A charity project my dad took on to look good for the school board. Don't get it twisted."
"I don't care why I'm here," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "But I know why you are here. You're here because you're failing. You're here because you're lazy. And if you don't open your book to page forty-two right now, I'm going to walk out that door, tell the Principal you're uncooperative, and you can spend the rest of the season sitting on the bench watching someone else lead your team."
For a long moment, the room was silent. I could feel the heat radiating off him—the pure, unadulterated anger of a boy who had finally met a wall he couldn't climb over.
Liam’s jaw tightened. He snatched the textbook off the table, the pages crinkling under his grip. He pulled out the chair across from me, the heavy wood screeching against the floor, and sat down.
"Fine," he spat. "But don't think for a second that this makes us friends. You're just the girl I'm paying to keep my life on track."
"You're not paying me, Liam. Your father is," I replied, opening my own notebook. "To me, you're just a job. And so far, you're a very loud, very annoying one."
I watched him as he stared at the book, his blue eyes burning with hate. I knew I was playing a dangerous game. I was a girl with nothing, living in his house, challenging his throne. But as I looked at the "F" on the paper between us, I realized I wasn't afraid.
I had been cold, I had been hungry, and I had been evicted. A boy with a hockey stick and a bad attitude was nothing compared to that.
