Everyone has struggles and obstacles on the path to success, no doubt - and unfortunately for all of us, not everyone will get there. But there were always at least a select group of people in every organisation who manage to achieve it all, to become what everyone had proclaimed as the ultimate success.

As a student, I had met way too many of these people - these annoyingly perfect people who were good at everything and earned the respect of all. Straight As, talent in extracurricular activities, decent if not charming appearances... you name it, they had it. With perfection, came approval. They were also respected by their peers, adored by the teachers and thought to be the role model of the entire student body.

In short, they were what most people called the golden girl or boy.

In the case of Rifton Girls' High School, however, there wasn't just one, but a plethora of golden girls all over - the fact being that Rifton was one of the most prestigious all-girls private schools in the city. Besides having a fancy, majestic infrastructure built up from the donations of now-wealthy alumni, Rifton Girls' High was known for having a brilliant reputation due to effective teachers (not that I thought all of them were, but whatever the staff said, went), intellectual students and strict rules that helped their students grow as 'fine young ladies' (on the outside, actually).

It wasn't an easy school to get into. Honestly, looking back, my admission felt like a fluke. Rifton only considered the cream of the crop into consideration - on top of achieving top-scoring grades and difficult admission tests, all students were evaluated on many other fronts such as competition awards and extracurricular activities - only the best of the best were going to get the coveted acceptance letter mailed to them. As a result, every student of the school, no matter who they were, had one striking similarity - the trait of ambition. Every girl here believed themselves destined for success and the perfect life. One of these factors was, and still is, popularity; every girl wanted to be the leading lady, the star, the queen bee.

As always, there was only one crown, and only one girl fit to wear it. Her ascension was swift and noticeable as she rose through the ranks of Rifton's social hierarchy, forming her esteemed, exclusive clique that was worshipped by all others. She was cool, smart, the newest addition to the netball team and had more than a thousand followers on her Instagram account with a flawless feed.

Alas, Natalie Kingsley was the undisputed queen of Rifton's fresh batch in the mere time period of two months, give or take. Unlike the typical stereotype, she was in no way a dumb, platinum-blonde, spawn-of-Satan slut (unlike all the trashy fanfictions on the net). She ruled the then first-years with apparent benevolence and fairness, had the charisma and charm that every girl could only dream of having. She was surely single but without a need to mingle - true queens didn't need a king, did they? It wasn't long before she had a contingency trailing behind her, the status of 'Natalie's clique member' taped to their foreheads and worn with pride. It was all over their faces - the confidence, the smiles and the looks in their eyes that commanded respect from the rest of the students.

If anyone were to know of my true opinions, my despise for Natalie sounded more like a tale out of a reversed cliche of teen fiction stories, where the 'good girl' was the horrible person and the 'popular mean girl' was actually a sweet, misunderstood angel. People would probably judge me for jealousy if I ever spoke of my hatred for Natalie and hate me all over again after last year's kind-of-happened drama had blown off. My grades were currently crap; hers were straight As. I was a member of the chess club; she was vice-captain of the basketball team. (Because sports were much more respectable than sitting in front of a chessboard.) I was a weirdo with no friends and obviously, she was the golden girl of the school.

If I had to put it in deep, metaphorical terms like something out of a pretentious poem, Natalie Kingsley was the queen of said metaphorical chessboard, while I was the pathetic, measly backward pawn.

With the current scenario before me, I forced a small smile on my face - it probably looked like a grimace or something because I had no idea how to control my facial muscles, but whatever - and gave the Populars a small, polite wave. It would've been a great time for me to suddenly develop supernatural abilities like they always did in shows and books so that I could yeet the Populars into the next dimension -

"Hey, Selene! How was your holiday?"

Oh my God, she decided to talk to me. About my holidays. Why is she talking to me?! Why is she even talking to me -

Ah, of course. She had to maintain her reputation for being the outgoing and friendly golden child, while inserting a few subtle jabs in compliments the way concubines always did in those ancient Chinese period dramas Grandma played on repeat when we visited her house. Those shows were quite entertaining.

But subtle, hidden insults in real life? Not so much, especially since I would be roasted on a grill if I ever tried one of those lines on the most popular student of the school.

"Oh! Hey, Natalie!" I said, forcing the most realistic smile I could muster onto my childish-as-heck face. However, taking my general faking skills into account, it probably didn't serve the intended purpose. "It was good, yeah!"

Natalie smiled back - but there was something in that look, those bright emerald eyes of hers that seemed to burn with a myriad of hidden emotions and dark intentions. It was probably my vivid imagination caused by serious trust issues, but that birch was probably mocking me internally, thinking something along the lines of, "Oh, look at that poor thing with no friends!"

Either that, or working out a plan in that clever brain of hers to destroy my social life - again - once I said something wrong.

My eyes darted to witness the other girls who were a part of Natalie's train - her clique members were clearly thinking the same as myself as they, the royal court of nobility, waited for Natalie to be done talking to a peasant like myself.

Natalie smiled serenely in response as I gripped my Chemistry textbook tighter to my chest. "Neat. You're in Mr Lynch's Physics Class, right? See you then!" With that, the girl strutted off, her clique following closely behind like the loyal lap dogs they were, each one smiling at me faked smiles in the name of being refined young ladies— but the fakest one that I could see right through was Gillian Bishop's.

Since the beginning of our time in Rifton, I could tell that the track-and-field sportsgirl had it out for me. Gillian never seemed to dig the idea of having me around in the school. Why she didn't exactly, I would probably never know, but what I did know was that the bichacho played an extremely active part in talking shit about me once Natalie the Almighty decided she didn't like me at all. After all, it was a win-win for her. Help to screw over the social life of childish chess geek and secure a permanent position as second-in-command of the Queen Bee? Of course she'd do it.

On the other hand, the other core member of what I called the Tyrannical Trio was less of a vicious, toxic snake but as close as anyone in Rifton got to being an airhead. Annalisa Knight was known for her shopaholic ways, flexing her dance skills and having good taste in the perfect OOTDs for her Instagram feed. However, that didn't make me forget how she'd tagged along and helped to spread rumours of my shortcomings all over the school either.

As I watched Natalie's honey blonde ponytail swish in the air, I walked off with my books, muttering, "真是一個笑里藏刀的狐貍精! [what a fox vixen, hiding a dagger in her smile!] "

"Sorry, were you talking to me?"

I whirled around to face a pair of bewildered sky blue eyes. Avery Castle was the identical twin of Addison Castle, and both were part of the Populars. She was one of the less problematic people one could meet in such a school - but she was one of them and that was that.

Within a second, I was in social anxiety panic mode. When will you ever learn to speak at a softer volume, Selene Chan?

"Oh, nothing! Bye!" I squeaked, clutching my books to my chest and running off towards the lab as fast as I could - which probably wasn't really fast since I was unfit, but whatever.

Unlike the many girls who wore dismay on their faces upon seeing their lab seating arrangements, I was somewhat pleased with my assigned lab partner. Since I was a loner with no clique, I didn't really mind who I was sitting with as long as they weren't annoying or useless at experiments - with the exception of the Populars, of course.

The same could not be said for the others - especially the ones who believed that staying near a clique member at all times, including in class, was the key to maintaining a solid position. Luckily, Angeline Whittaker was neither annoying or a failure at experimental skills and I could even say that she was one of the few people I respected in Rifton Girls' High.

The reason was simple - the girl did not give a damn.

Angeline Whittaker was a loner - a respected loner, something not commonly found in a school where a social life was valued as one of the main aspects of success. But she was. With her 'IDGAF' vibe and a decent grade for every exam, many cliques of our batch were either cordial with her or just wanted to recruit her. Yet every time whenever a clique tried to get her in their groupie with offers to join them at lunch, she insisted on keeping to herself and maintaining her signature nonchalant expression. It seemed that she just couldn't be bothered to fit in or waste her time on social interaction.

If only I could figure out how this girl managed it perfectly - I could really use some tips.

"Hello, Selene."

"Hi, Angie. How was your holiday?"

The girl slid into the seat next to mine on the bench, putting her books down. Her clinical expression remained on her face, leaving no room for any form of nonsense as her blue eyes looked straight into mine.

"It was okay."

I was used to not getting much of an answer out of her. Everyone was. It was just Angeline - or at least, her outward personality. My natural awkwardness did not help at all.

"Oh, that's nice."

To instil an excellent work ethic, fine decorum and a sense of honour in every Rifton Girl.

The banner hung up before the railings of the second level was in a majestic, sans-serif font that my darling school tended to adopt in every official school document. It bathed in the soft, mildly warm sunlight that penetrated the clear glass of the ceiling, reminding every student to develop all three traits; traits that I was currently struggling to achieve.

But honestly, it was a pile of bull.

Or maybe, Selene, it's a pile of bull because you're struggling to get there. People only resent a system because they aren't benefiting in it.

Brushing away my inner voice, I headed down the curved staircase, invisible within the throng of students rushing towards lunch, running my fingers across the bumpy, painted railings with one hand as I looked down at my school shoes. I was in my regular black Nikes - or rather, everyone's regular black Nike shoes, since the Populars basically started the trend six months ago -

"Hey, Selene!"

Okay, so maybe not that invisible.

I looked up to my right as the owner of the friendly chirp sidled up against me - along with her second-in-command, Sarah Anderson and the other followers.

"Hey!" I acknowledged, "Good job on the tests - if only I had, like, half of your intellect. You did great!"

"Aw, no... " Julie waved off my compliment and genuine respect for her high scores - after all, being modest was part of being a good kid. "I'm not that smart - "

"Excuse me?" Sarah exclaimed, hazel eyes widening in shock as she watched her friend - or rather, clique leader - downplay herself. "You're the kid receiving awards on the stage for best in standard every single year! If you're going to say that, what are we?" She gestured at herself and the rest of Julie's clique, who agreed intently.

Juliette Quinton's chocolate brown eyes were positively glowing - after all, a few tests had just been returned today and she was pretty much either top scorer, or second in class for all of them. Either the stellar grades, or the fact that she just got eight hours of sleep - unlike me, who basically considered anything more than six hours 'enough sleep', despite what all those research studies had said. Due to what had to be amazing planning skills, zero procrastination and just being a good kid in general, Julie was the certified top student in our year. With her sweet, dimpled smile and the greetings she basically graced everyone she knew with, Julie was every teacher's pet and essentially the resident goody-two-shoes.

In a perfectly cliche teen fiction story set-up, Julie was the nerd, the 'Good Girl' of the school.

But Rifton wasn't a school out of a teen fiction tale - Rifton was the school known for cherry-picking only the smartest students around, their own admission tests filled to the brim with mind-boggling IQ questions. In Rifton, students spent the better part of their time buried in their books, studying for the good grades which were not just sought after but an expectation. What better for the smartest of the smartest than to be part of a joint alliance in pursuit of good grades?

And thus, Juliette Quinton, the nerdiest of the nerds, was the leader of her very own clique - the Intellectuals, as I called it. On top of their already overly-goody behaviour and grades that somehow managed to hit near-hundred percentages, they were also bizarre in their own goody way. Most Rifton girls still had their cliques and social media outside of school as minor distractions - but the Intellectuals did not do distractions; they were focused on work and work alone, none of them owning any other social media besides Whatsapp.

Personally, however, I did not like them. They were boring; most of the time they were quiet, demure beings and the only time they got extremely eloquent and outspoken were in group discussions and presentations. I shuddered at the very notion of spending all my time dedicated to my studies—how could they stand it? Even despite my opinions, they were a respected clique and that meant that they were not to be trifled with.

"Don't worry guys, I know you all tried your best! Now, let's just focus on getting lunch; I insist on being on time for the fish!" Julie announced to her clique, her short legs trotting down the staircase quicker as the others followed suit, leaving me to walk alone and watch as the chocolate brown bob of hair bounce down the staircase, occasionally hidden by the figures of her clique members, who were less vertically challenged.

Sweet little goody nerds they were - but I had already seen right through their little act.

The only part about them that was decent was their non-confrontational ways, unlike some people.

As I followed the rest of the crowd into the canteen, the strains of a Korean song blasted from a very notorious laptop as the K-Pop Kids ignored their lunches for a bunch of boys with dyed hair as per usual. They were the type I knew from YouTube comments - toxic in their fandoms and keen to murder anyone (figuratively, I hoped) who dared insult their oppa. But as the saying went about, there was safety in numbers and the K-Pop Kids were a large clique of about eight permanent members, led by Tina and sometimes accompanied by Reyna Sanders, a drifter. Their strong opinions and the fact that they could blast music undisturbed were a clear indication that they, too, were a powerful clique. Perhaps, the part where Tina was rumoured to be in line for inheriting a successful family business and a huge mansion was relevant as well.

There were also the Bookworms - the constant patrons of the library and well versed in the knowledge of every book fandom. There were the Prefects of our batch, who bonded over their similar leadership role. Even the group I named the Leftovers hung out at their regular corner; they were the last girls left without a clique who decided that they would all just band together for social acceptance.

The Populars settled near the front of the canteen, nearest to the lunch lines, chattering away about whatever was the 'in thing' that they liked (and that everyone else who was power hungry just happened to like as well, no doubt) while scrolling through perfect Instagram feeds.

And then there was me, keeping my head down as I ate my food. Even though I was given the option to hide somewhere during lunch period, sparing me from the shame of sitting alone at the table at the back, I chose to brave it and sit there because food was - no, is - life. I wasn't giving up my spaghetti and meatballs because Natalie made sure I was no longer friend material with her badmouthing of all my flaws. Even if I felt humiliated, nobody was going to stop me from my rights to good food.

Teachers, parents, everyone - they all said secondary school was the best time to build memories to last forever - but week after week of going through the mundane, boring motions alone while my peers laughed and chatted had told me otherwise. I was destined for the most uneventful high school life ever witnessed in the history of time where I would graduate and disappear from everyone's memories. It was just the fate of a loner - an unworthy loner like me.

Unless, of course, if I could make myself someone worth remembering.

I stabbed a meatball and shoved it into my mouth, chewing as I contemplated the possibilities - but honestly, there weren't many.

There never were for people like me.