Young Elite
Description
Aurora Waldorf has spent her life surviving, not thriving-an orphan thrust into the elite Academy of Young Elites as a symbol of societal goodwill. But the academy is no haven; it's a battlefield where wealth and privilege reign, and Aurora's status as an orphan makes her an easy target. Caught in a power play with Alexander Bass, the arrogant and volatile class president who thrives on tormenting her, Aurora vows to fight back. Beneath their fiery clashes and venomous exchanges, unspoken emotions simmer, threatening to shatter their carefully constructed facades. As secrets about Alexander's fractured family and Aurora's resilience come to light, their hate-fueled rivalry turns into something neither can control, in a world where the price of vulnerability is betrayal-and love is the ultimate weakness.
Chapter 1
Mar 28, 2025
They all think I'm bad.
There's only one thing left for me — to become even worse.
Aurora’s POV
I'm an orphan, abandoned and unwanted.
I could have started my story differently, but my orphanhood is the fact that shapes my life.
I'm alone, unneeded, and a burden to the state. But to showcase their success, the ministry suddenly needs me - and a few other orphans like me.
It all started when the first academy for the nation's young elite was opened, a place where the children of the rich and powerful gathered. The golden youth. The privileged ones. The ones who will never understand people like me.
The Ministry of Education chose five orphans from across the country"those who had graduated from the orphanage, had nowhere to go for the summer, were knowledgeable enough, and had graduated with honors"and sent them to this academy. It was their way of saying, “We’re giving orphans a future, an opportunity… We’re doing something good for you. Look at us, we’re trying.” At least, that’s how it looked on the surface.
So here I am, standing among a thousand eighteen-year-old students at the Academy of Young Elites, listening to the director’s speech. I stand, gripping the small hand of a fifth-grade orphan. He’s from my orphanage, the same one I graduated from last spring. In a way, I feel responsible for him.
The Academy of Young Elites is an educational center for young people, aimed at bringing European standards of living to Ukrainian cities, promoting a high level of culture, education, and supporting small and medium businesses. The academy wants to create a new generation of forward-thinking young people who will shape the future of Ukrainian society. The man speaks in a loud, confident voice.
"Aurora," Matthew gives my hand a tug.
I was scared too, just like him.
He sees me as someone he can rely on. He knows I'll stick by him - I promised him that when we were on our way to Kyiv and learning about each other's backgrounds. I'm not even sure why I've grown so attached to this kid. Even though we'll be in the same building, we'll be in different groups, which throws me off.
“Everything will be fine, Matthew,” I force a smile onto my face.
Things are chaotic inside. It's like being surrounded by venomous snakes.
The director keeps talking, trying to impress the parents of the kids from the wealthy families. He seems like a classy guy, but that's just my impression – I haven't seen much of the world. Our old teacher used to say that pretty often. Anyway, the director looks good – suit, shoes, barely any gray hair, and a kind face.
Things start getting crazy. The teachers round up the kids, and they say their goodbyes to their parents. Some kids are bawling, while others look pretty relieved to be free. The students break off and follow their curators after saying their goodbyes. I notice some of them already lighting up cigarettes, which really gets my goat. That's what I expect from the rich kids - they're always so spoiled and clueless.
We finally find ourselves in the auditorium after what feels like half an hour. The academy's a massive two-story building that looks like something out of ancient history - it's got that palace vibe going on. It's huge, big enough to house a bunch of orphanages. As the director said, they've got tennis courts, football fields, stables, a gym, and not one but two swimming pools. The whole place is set up for kids to get a well-rounded education and stay healthy. But what really stands out is how comfy it is here. Despite the snooty kids, it's actually nice to walk the halls - the plasterwork on the ceiling is pretty cool. The academy's got a mix of old and new styles, with modern lamps that look like lanterns and ancient doors.
Before I go in, I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a sec, and think of Matthew. I hope he's doing okay back at the orphanage. I count to five and then head into the room, adjusting the backpack they gave me. I don't have to worry about clothes - the academy provides uniforms, so I'm set with a skirt, shirt, and jacket. The rest of my stuff was thanks to some generous patrons. My hair's tied back in a ponytail, and I've got on brogues with knee-high socks.
I take a bold look around at my classmates, who are already seated at their desks. I spot a seat by the window and decide to sit there, trying to blend in. Our curator's nowhere to be seen, so I'll just have to wait and see what happens next.
The girls all look like they've had some work done - makeup, tattoos, the whole nine yards. The boys are tall, loud, and sprawled out in their chairs like they own the place. Everyone's looking around, laughing, and trying to get to know each other.
I stay silent.
I was brought here for my excellent studies, chosen because I behaved impeccably, so I don’t intend to ruin that perception.
“Did you know that the academy has taken in orphans?”
The voice, full of mockery and brazen, sounds like a sentence. I scan the faces of the newly minted students, searching for the one who said that.
“I mean? Where did that information come from?” asks a blonde with heavy makeup.
“Orphans?” Another voice chimes in.
"Rumors are going around," a voice says with disgust. "Fess up, who's the orphan here?"
The voice gets louder, and I finally see him. Great, just what I needed. His appearance gives away his true personality – it's all dark and twisted. He's wearing a school uniform, but it's partially unbuttoned, and his black hair hangs over his eyes; his cold, grey eyes scan the room, taking in everyone. He's got the whole handsome thing going on – broad shoulders, narrow hips – but his expression ruins it. He looks like he hates the world.
Then our eyes meet.
"You," he says. "Who are your parents?"
I'm totally thrown off guard. The deputy was supposed to keep this under wraps, not shine a spotlight on me. And I was cool with that. I definitely don't want to be a target for the spoiled kids I've been living with for the past year.
I'm completely stuck. My face goes beet red, and I quickly look down, trying to avoid eye contact.
"Don't turn away from me," he says in a cold, disgusted tone.
He walks up to me, ignoring everyone else. Where's the curator when I need them?
My fingers dig into the chair - it hurts. My heart's racing so fast that all my thoughts are slipping away. My pulse is pounding in my temples. I know exactly what will happen if the truth comes out.
He leans against my desk, his thin fingers splayed out. He bends in closer, his black hair falling over his eyes, hiding their color - it's like the grey sky on a rainy day.
He smells like mint and lemon - it's a weird combo, but it's coming from him.
I shoot back in the same tone, "What's your point?"
The boy's black eyebrows arch up, not because he's surprised, but because I'm talking back to him.
"Who. Are. Your. Parents?" he growls, his voice low and thick.
Young Elite
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