Friday always carried a different kind of energy.
People were packing bags too fast. Their weekend plans were already louder than whatever the teacher had been saying in the last ten minutes. The election talk had finally died down for the day and Veneri was taking full advantage of it. He had his bag slung over one shoulder and was just about to leave before someone stepped in front of his desk. Veneri looked at her, already suspicious of her intentions.
"Need a lift?"
"A lift?"
"Come with me."
He narrowed his eyes.
"If this is about asking for my support—"
She cut him off immediately and loudly in front of half the class.
"I'm not desperate enough for votes to beg you to endorse me."
The whole room froze.
Someone muttered, "Damn."
Greshina didn't even look away from him.
"I just want to talk to you. You can refuse if you want."
Veneri stared a second and exhaled a small breath through his nose.
"I'll take the offer."
The students were immediately shocked.
"No way."
"He accepted?"
"President candidate got him."
One of the boys from the cooking club looked scandalized.
"Our leader has been politically kidnapped."
Veneri ignored them and muttered, mostly to himself:
"Better than being followed by candidates on the way home."
"Smart decision."
They left together under enough stares to start rumors for a month. The walk toward the school entrance was surprisingly normal. Veneri glanced at her when the silent was too much.
"So what exactly are we talking about?"
"You'll see."
When they reached the parking area near the front gate, he stopped. What was parked there was not a normal car. It was the kind of vehicle that looked less parked and more displayed. A chauffeur was already standing beside the rear door.
"You have got to be kidding."
Greshina tilted her head.
"What?"
"You arrive at school in this?"
"Of course."
"You've been pretending to be normal all year."
She actually looked offended.
"I am normal."
He looked at the car.
"No the fuck you're not."
The driver opened the door and both got in. Somehow the inside was even more ridiculous. Everything smelled expensive too.
"This is richer than some hotels."
The driver glanced into the mirror.
"Lady Greshina, will you be attending the family dinner tonight?"
Her face immediately turned to disgust.
"No. It'll only end in disaster. I'm staying at my apartment tonight. I need him to help with the elections."
Veneri turned.
"What?"
Before he could protest she looked at him with a very clear message:
I know.
"Fine."
The driver hid a smile as he focused on the road. The buildings changed and after a while they pulled into a district Veneri had only seen in magazines that he saw in the school library. The apartment tower came into view.
"Hold on. You live here?"
"Yes."
"You're joking."
"No."
He looked up at the absurd height of the high rise apartment building.
"You're secretly nobility."
"Secretly?"
The car stopped. The driver stepped out and opened the door. Before leaving, Greshina leaned toward him.
"Don't tell anyone where I am tonight."
"As you wish, Lady Greshina."
Inside the lobby, he almost forgot to walk. The floors were so clean he could see his face on them. Massive chandeliers, an indoor fountain, a pianist playing in the corner and concierge desks that looked richer than bank counters...
Veneri turned in slow disbelief.
"This is where people live?"
Greshina just kept walking.
"Keep up."
He followed her to a private elevator. The elevator rose so smoothly he barely felt any movement. He looked at her as he saw the numbers rose even higher and higher.
"How high are we going?"
"The top."
When the doors opened, the entire floor was quiet. She unlocked one of the doors and pushed it open.
"Come in."
He stepped inside and stopped. The apartment looked less like an apartment and more like some luxury penthouse in a billionaire fantasy. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered half the space, showing the city glowing below in a panoramic view. There was a grand piano, modern art, bookshelves built into dark walnut walls, a sunken living room bigger than his orphanage hall, soft golden lighting with white stone counters, a kitchen that looked like a cooking show set and other stuff he didn't know about.
Everything was so elegant and expensive without trying. For once, he was actually speechless. Greshina dropped her bag on the couch but he was still staring.
"Well?"
He pointed vaguely around.
"This… is where you live?"
"Yes."
"I thought you were rich but this is way too much."
She laughed, which echoed through the penthouse. Veneri walked toward the glass windows and looked down at the city far below.
"This is insane. And you invited a random classmate here?"
"You're not random."
That made him pause. Then she walked past him toward the kitchen.
"Take off your shoes."
"What?"
"You're helping me with election strategy. And maybe dinner."
Veneri looked around the absurdly luxurious penthouse again and muttered under his breath.
"I was lured here with wealth, wasn't I?"
°°°°°°
Greshina disappeared into the bathroom after warning him not to touch anything expensive, which was almost impossible advice to follow considering the entire apartment looked like a luxury.
Veneri sank into the couch and looked around again, still trying to process where he was. The place didn't feel lived in so much as curated. He was still trying to decide whether rich people actually lived like this or if he had somehow wandered into a movie set when the bathroom door opened.
Greshina stepped out with damp hair loose over her shoulders, wearing an oversized pink hoodie and white shorts, a blow-dryer in one hand and a towel in the other.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
"I'm adjusting."
"To what?"
"The feared presidential candidate apparently turns into a strawberry marshmallow at home."
A cushion flew at his face but he caught it. She plugged in the blow-dryer.
"You can shower next. Towel's inside. There are extra clothes too."
"Extra clothes?"
"My brother's."
"You just casually keep men's clothes for visitors?"
She gave him a dead stare.
"I have family."
"Fair enough. Will they fit?"
She looked him up and down once.
"You're about the same height. It'll fit."
The bathroom somehow made the penthouse look modest. Classy walls, a rain shower, polished fixtures that probably cost more than his tuition, even the soap made him stop. He picked it up and smelled it.
"Why does your soap smell aristocratic?"
The scent was clean, rich and absurdly refined. Even bathing here felt like trespassing into upper-class privilege. When he finished and put on the clothes she had left, he stared in mild disbelief.
They fit perfectly.
When he came back out in the sweatpants and shirt with his hair still damp, he found Greshina by the window on the phone.
"Yes, send both. No onions. Yes, the usual."
She hung up.
"Ordering food?"
She turned.
"How did you know?"
"For a rich girl like you? There's no way you cook for yourself."
She looked offended.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying."
"I can cook."
He glanced around.
"You own a chandelier taller than my future."
She pointed at him.
"I brought you here so you could hear my campaign speech. We can stay up all night if we need to."
"I can't stay all night."
"Do you have somewhere to be? I'll pay you."
He answered instantly.
"I'm free."
She rolled her eyes.
"You accepted too fast."
"Professional consultation isn't cheap you know."
When the food arrived, even the delivery looked rich. They ate while talking far more naturally than they ever did at school. Without uniforms and election tension, conversation wasn't tense. Then suddenly, she stood in front of him and inhaled like she was stepping onto a debate stage.
"My fellow students—"
He raised a finger.
"No."
"What?"
"Too formal."
"That was my opening."
"It was a bad opening. Talk to students like students."
She sighed and restarted.
"Everyone wants a school where students actually have a voice—"
"Better."
She continued.
"As president, I want to improve student participation in school decisions, increase support for clubs—"
He interrupted.
"Too specific and straight to the point."
She frowned.
"You interrupt too much."
"You're speaking in brochure, Greshina."
"What does that mean?"
"It means nobody feels anything. You are talking to students, not a professional conference."
She exhaled and then tried again.
"When I joined this school, I thought leadership was about control. But, I've learned it's responsibility."
She started talking about equal club funding, student-led events, cafeteria reform, mental health support and such stuff. He stopped her constantly.
"Shorter sentences please."
"Cut that phrase."
"Too rehearsed."
"Again."
She groaned through each of his interruptions.
"This is brutal."
"This is improvement."
"This is paid improvement. At least pretend you care."
"I care professionally."
At one point he stood up and played as a hostile voter.
"What qualifies you to lead?"
She answered but he shook his head.
"Too defensive. Again. What makes you different from every other candidate?"
She answered again and have a correct answer.
"Better."
Later she sat on the carpet in frustration while he sat across from her with campaign papers everywhere. She looked at him as he ate the pizza she ordered and a few foreign meals.
"You're surprisingly good at this."
"I understand how people listen. It's not hard knowing what students want."
"You could probably win if you ran for the position."
He laughed.
"Believe me, I'd embezzle my own campaign funds."
She laughed hard enough to fall back on her hands.
"Thank you."
He looked at her.
"For what?"
"For taking this seriously. You know…"
"What?"
"I invited you here because I thought you were influential."
"And now?"
She looked straight at him.
"Now I think you're annoying."
"That sounds like friendship."
She threw a rolled campaign paper at him but he caught it.