Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(2)
“I’ve already heard great things about our Head Prefect this year.” Ward’s voice drags, making what I’m sure was meant to be a positive, somewhat lively sentence as lifeless as a eulogy. “And so, there should be no surprise that the Head Prefect is none other than Chiamaka Adebayo.”
Loud cheers fill the dark oak-walled hall as Chiamaka walks forward. I notice her army of clones seated at the front, clapping in scary unison, all as pretty and doll-like as their leader. There’s a smug expression on her face as she joins us. I almost roll my eyes, but she’s the most popular girl at school, and I don’t have a death wish.
I shift awkwardly, feeling even more out of place now. If Max, Ruby, and Cecelia are all main characters, Chiamaka is the protagonist. It makes sense seeing them up here. But me? I feel like any moment now, guys with cameras are gonna run out and tell me I’m being pranked. That would make more sense than any of this.
I know things like Senior Prefects are a popularity contest. Teachers vote for their favorites each year, and it’s always the same kind of person. Someone popular, and I am not popular. Maybe my music teacher put in a good word for me? I don’t know.
“As all of you know, the roles of Senior Prefect and Head Prefect should not be taken lightly. With a lot of power comes great responsibility. It is not just about attending council meetings with me, or organizing the big events, or impressing a choice college. It is also being a model student all year round, which I am sure the five of these students have been during their time at Niveus and will, hopefully, continue to be long after they leave Niveus behind.” Headmaster Ward forces a tight smile.
“Please give another round of applause to our prefect council this year,” Ward says, triggering louder claps from the sea of pale in front of us. I feel a few eyes on me, and I avoid them, trying to find something interesting in the floor beneath my feet, rather than dwelling on the fact that there are rows and rows of people watching me.
I hate the feeling of being watched.
“Now for the school values.”
We all turn to face the giant screen behind us, like we always do, ready to watch the school values scroll down like credits at the end of a movie, while the national anthem plays in the background. In normal assemblies, we usually just pledge allegiance to the flag, but seeing as this is the first assembly of the year, Niveus does what it does best: amps up the drama.
The screen is enormous and black and covers most of the large, double-glazed window behind the stage. Niveus is a school made up of fancy, dark wooden walls; marble floors; and huge glass windows. The exterior is old and haunted-looking, and the interior is new and modern, reeking of excessive wealth. It’s like it’s tempting the outside world to peer in.
There’s a loud click, and a large picture fills the screen: a rectangular playing card with As in each corner and a huge spade symbol at the center.
That’s new.
I turn to find Jack in the audience, wanting to give him our What the hell? look, but he’s staring at the screen as if the whole thing doesn’t faze him. Everyone else in the audience looks just as unbothered by this as Jack. It’s weird.
“Ah, there seems to be some kind of technical malfunction…,” Mrs. Blackburn, my old French teacher, announces from the back. A few more clicks, and all goes back to normal. The national anthem blares from the speakers and we sing along, with our palms placed on our chests as we watch the school values fly past: Generosity, Grace, Determination, Integrity, Idealism, Nobility, Excellence, Respectfulness, and Eloquence.
Nine values most people at this school lack. Myself included.
“Now for a speech from our Head Prefect, Chiamaka.” The student body goes wild at the mention of her name, clapping even louder than before and cheering like she’s a god—which by Niveus standards, she basically is.
“Thank you, Headmaster Ward,” Chiamaka says as she steps up to the podium. “Firstly, I would like to thank the teachers for selecting me as Head Prefect—it’s something I never imagined would happen.”
Chiamaka’s been Head Prefect three years in a row now; she was the Junior Head Prefect as well as the Sophomore Head Prefect—there’s nothing remotely shocking about her selection. Mine, on the other hand …
She looks back at the teachers with her hand still placed over her heart, from when we sang the national anthem, feigning surprise like she does every year.
My eyes really, really want to roll at her.
“As your Senior Head Prefect, I will work hard to ensure that our final year at Niveus is the best one yet, starting with the Senior Snowflake Charity Ball at the end of the month. This year’s prefect council will make sure it is a night everyone will talk about for many years to come.”
People start to clap but Chiamaka doesn’t back down. Instead, she drags the microphone forward, not yet done with her soliloquy.
“Above all else, I promise to make sure that the majority of the funding we get goes to the right departments. I’d hate to see all the generosity shown by our donors go to waste. As Senior Head Prefect, I will make sure the right people—the students winning the Mathalons, competing at the science fairs, the ones actually contributing something to the school—are prioritized. Thank you.”
Chiamaka finishes, flashing a wicked grin as the hall erupts in applause once again.
This time, I roll my eyes without a care, and I’m pretty sure the girl in the front row with the red bows in her hair looks at me with disdain for doing so.