Richmoore Institute - 1. Chapter 1 - The Welfare Kids

One of the many methods to increase one's worth is to decrease another's. Some applications of such method are vehemently denounced by society, such as when a particular ethnicity claim superiority over another, or when the rich and educated condescend on the less fortunate. However, some other applications are less frowned upon – some even encouraged – by society, such as when certain Democrats think of certain Republicans as being ignorant, stupid or evil, or when certain religions disparagingly censure certain hedonistic lifestyles. Society will often find some applications more condemnable than others, but in substance, they are but the same.

* * *

If one were to Google “the richest people in the world”, chances are that an average person would only recognise 20% of the names listed. Chances also are that a much smaller percentage of people can sincerely claim to intimately know one of the names listed. One would often be much more familiar with the lives of celebrities or public figures, but one would be surprised how few make the list of the richest people in the world. If the lives of rich people themselves are considerably shielded from the public eye, then there is no need to say that the vast majority of society is oblivious to the lives of their children. This brings the aptly named Richmoore Institute into the picture.

Built on the southern coast of California, Richmoore Institute was a private boarding school that spanned a 100 acres, but would only house approximately 500 grade 9 to grade 12 students at any particular time. Richmoore only accepted students from the richest families of the world, and charged an exorbitant tuition of $200,000 per academic year, making it the most expensive school in the world.

It probably wouldn't surprise many that, since rich or poor, children will behave like children, Richmoore did not have an environment that was too different from any other school. And like many other American schools, Richmoore was plagued with social hierarchy; it was just much more colourful at Richmoore in spite of its cultural diversity. Nonetheless there were two social circles that were distinctive to Richmoore which cannot be found in any other school in the United States.

The first unique social circle consisted of the precocious youngsters who were mostly either already burdened with involvement in their parents' business empires, or simply more worldly and sophisticated than their insouciant peers. This group was more commonly known as “The Breakfast Club” within the walls of Richmoore.

It was the first day of an academic year, and students began pouring into the “canteen”, which was much like a typical school's cafeteria except for the myriad of gourmet food vendors where students can purchase their meals. The first academic day at Richmoore started after lunch. No classes would be held on the first day, and the activities were all for orientation purposes – i.e. Meet and Greet with the Staff, Club Sign-Ups, Mingle with Your Mentors, etc. Needless to say, the critical idea behind the school of the worlds' richest children was networking, and Richmoore incorporated, as much as it could, that aspect into every nook and cranny of its curriculum.

Samuel Matthews, only son of the richest transportation magnate, and arguably the richest patron of Richmoore, had been stirring and staring into his French Onion soup for the last five minutes. Other members of The Breakfast Club, the “Breakies”, started filling the round table which, along with the other two tables, one hosting the football team and the other the cheerleaders club, formed the “Triad” in the middle of the canteen. Sam's behaviour was mostly ignored by the other Breakies since many would have discounted it as another contemplative episode of Samuel Bryan Matthews during lunch. Jane Lee, president of The Breakfast Club, knew otherwise. She gracefully placed her 7oz Fillet Mignon and Crème Brulee down, and sat beside Sam. “What's wrong? You don't usually play with your food while you're contemplating,” she asked, curiously lifting an eyebrow.

Samuel turned his gaze to her, meeting her dark brown eyes with his iridescent blue ones, but before he could utter a word, someone burst through the canteen door, and screeched without the appropriate decorum expected of a Richmoore student: “The Welfies are here!”. The quip brought about a few frowns at the Breakies's table, with one Breakie muttering: “The Scholarship Students” under her breath in a tone laced with dismay.

The Welfare Kids, or more commonly known as the “Welfies”, was the second unique social circle in Richmoore. Richmoore Institute had a scholarship program whereby 2% of the student population, approximately 10 students, would be granted with a scholarship for tuition, boarding and the necessary per diem allowance, amounting to a total value of $300,000 per academic year. These students were selected based on academic or athletic merit as well as their financial background. The program was funded by some of the wealthiest patrons as a philanthropic act.

Since 3 Welfies graduated the year before, 3 joined that particular year – 1 was a freshman while 2 were juniors. Alistair Christensen, raised along with one sister and a pair of twin brothers in a small town in New York State, was one of the juniors who set foot on the majestic grounds of Richmoore Institute that afternoon. What Alistair lacked in pedigree, he more than made up for in physical attraction. Standing 6 foot tall, he had perfectly ruffled short messy auburn hair, shimmering hazel eyes, chiselled and sharp face features, and a 5 o'clock shadow that added a final touch to his perfectly masculine visage. Even his perfectly toned and muscular torso was no match for attention when compared to his perfect blend of Scandinavian and Eastern European facial features.

Make no mistake, many students, irrespective of gender, were drawn, albeit for varying reasons, to his appearance that day. However, of the entire student population, two had good reasons to believe that their lives would be greatly impacted by his advent. The first was Betty Crawford, the school “gossip girl”. Second daughter to the owner of the world's largest media conglomerate, she continued her elder sister's legacy of running the Richmoore Institute gossip mill. Despite the unwritten social law of Richmoore Institute that forbade intimate interactions with the Welfies, Betty noted with her wide-open eyes, that many of the more popular students had their eyes glued to Alistair's physical perfection, she could even see the palpable lust in some of their expressions. She had a very strong inkling that the school year would see countless instances of the unwritten social law broken by those who would not be ale to resist the lustful temptations, and she would more than gladly capitalise on such unfortunate social transgressions. The Breakies and their associates were the only reputable people who flagrantly broke the aforementioned social law and would sometimes even shelter the Welfies from social persecution.

The second student, was Sam, who stopped stirring his soup as Alistair walked in with the two other new Welfies, James Freeman, the student president of the Scholarship Program, and Doctor Stephen Jones, principal of Richmoore Institute.

“Ahem”, Dr. Jones cleared his throat to gain the attention of students. “As you are all well aware, 3 new students from the Scholarship Program will be gracing the halls of Richmoore. Let us now welcome their addition to our community which prides itself for its diversity and excellence.”

The students gave a perfunctory applause, as James, the student president of the Scholarship Program, led the new Welfies to the table which traditionally hosted the Welfare Kids, strategically placed beside to that which hosted the members of The Breakfast Club.

At the very moment Alistair entered the canteen, even while he was being led by James, his bright hazel eyes voraciously scanned the student population, evidently looking for something or someone. His eyes finally softened when he found what he was looking for – his entire appearance could be said to be a stark contrast in itself; with the meagre height of 5 foot and 7 inches, lean torso, curly locks of dirty blonde hair grazing his eye brows, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses, one might deduce that he has a meek nature, but upon closer observation, one could feel the confidence emanating from his posture, and the intelligence in those sharp blue eyes.

Alistair stared intently, hoping to have his gaze returned, but felt the climbing disappointment as his subject continued to feign ignorance to his presence. Alistair ate lightly, and spent his entire lunch observing his subject indulge in its French onion soup. Sam, you should have no doubt that you're the main reason why I'm here. For how long are we going to play this game where we ignore each other? Alistair thought to himself as the school bell rung, heralding the start of the first academic day of Alistair's and Sam's junior year at Richmoore Institute.