The Heirs

Hartford Barnstormer miserably trudged through the large and crowded bus station. He hated everything about boarding school. The food, the dorms, the public bathrooms. Victory Prescott. There was something about being the only poor kid at Hanover Academy that made him a constant target. You see, Hartford Barnstormer was a genius. Some even believe he could be the next Einstein. If only the rich and over privileged students at school would see that. To them, he was a loser, who would just end up working for them one day. They weren't wrong, though. The kids he went to school with were some of the most privileged heirs of the 21st century. And you thought monarchy was only for the royals. As he boarded the bus, Hartford thought about running away. Surely the academy wouldn’t notice his absence. He was the most hated student at school, after all. With barely any friends, Hartford often took comfort talking to the many staff and faculty the school had to offer. Even if they knew he was gone, someone would just pay the school to keep him gone. Namely, Victory Prescott, future company president of Prescott Corporations, Hartford’s father's workplace. Every mile Hartford’s bus drove, he grew more and more agitated. Back home, Hartford was very popular. Everyone knew him as the genius who got a full scholarship to the nation's best prep school. At Hanover Academy however, Hartford was simply known as the boy whose parents make less than six million dollars a year. Today was a gloomy day for the little town of Bekket, North Dakota. Today was the day the beloved Hartford Barnstormer went back to school. Everybody loved Hartford. He was the only special thing about Bekket. Well, there was also world’s largest dead beaver, but not everyone related to Bucky. The bus stopped. Hartford couldn't believe it. “That was fast.” he thought. He stood up in his bus seat and paid the driver. “Seeya, Hartford.” Hartford had been riding the same bus to school for about three years now. He knew the driver, Jack, by name. Off in the distance, a strand of platinum blonde hair was struck by the sun. Hartford grimaced. It was none other than Victory Prescott, his worst enemy and the girl he had to tutor in math. Victory looked across the lawn. She saw him. The boy who rode the bus to school. Hartford Barnstormer. She grimaced. The boy who had to tutor her in math. Paying the limo driver, she dropped her bags on the sidewalk and ran. Ran right up to her nemesis, and maybe future secretary, Hartford. “Barnstormer!” Heads turned. “Prescott.” Victory stopped to take a breath. “You need to tell Sparks I can do math.” Victory said in a hushed voice. She couldn't let anybody know that the Prescott heir needed tutoring. She could barely believe it herself. How could she be so careless as to let to grades slip? Hartford almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He smirked. “No can do, Victory.” “Don’t call me that.” Victory’s pale face started turning red. She always got what wanted. Whether it was the latest apple device or her own movie theatre, Victory had access to it. They say that money can’t buy you happiness, but what else is there? Hartford continued. “Can’t your dad just buy you out of it?” Victory’s ice blue eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. Hartford wasn’t sure why. Maybe he had gone too far. After last year’s scandal, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was upset. Victory turned around and walked towards her bags. “Great.” Hartford thought. He had just upset the heir of his father's employer. The moment she turned 19, Prescott Corporations would be hers, and she would be his father’s boss. Just then, Hartford saw his roommate running across the lawn. “Alright there, Barnstormer?” His English accent was heavy, even though he had always tried to drown it out. “Hello Callahan.” Hartford sighed. He had always liked Callahan Davenport. He was just a bit… annoying. “Are you going out for polo this year?” Callahan had a national ranking in polo. Some people believed he would pursue it as a career. Then again, his parents probably wouldn’t allow it. Hartford burst out laughing and shook his head. His roommate could be so oblivious sometimes. “Of course I’m not going out for bloody polo.” Hartford was clearly attempting to mock Callahan’s accent. He wasn’t doing so great. As Victory paid someone to carry her bags, she spotted her friends hanging out under the bleachers. She made sure the rest of her things were secured and rushed to the polo field. “Hey guys!” Victory smiled. Most of her friends were older, but that was to be expected. After all, she was much to mature for the rest of the 9th grade. “Hey Tory.” Charles Davenport sighed. He never did like Victory. You could call him the fakest friend of 2017. But then again, most of her friends were just in it for the money, anyway. Charles looked across the lawn at his younger brother. He had always been jealous of Callahan. He had national ranks in polo, he didn’t care what other people thought, and he didn’t have to inherit their father’s stupid company. “Do you think Callahan would want my birthright?” That was probably the stupidest thing he had ever said. Victory looked at him and smiled. “Nah.” Victory giggled. “Why would you want him to have it anyway?” Charles looked at his feet. Victory was one of those people he would never understand. She couldn’t wait to take charge of Prescott Corporations. The 10th grader sighed. Wanting to change the subject, he flashed a million dollar smile. “So what are we doing tonight?” It was tradition that Charles and his crew hang out the night before classes started. Although this year, he secretly hoped no one had planned anything. Today though, was no exception. Harlem Langley grinned deviously. “Come to my room at 10.” With that he walked away. With Harlem in charge, everyone knew something crazy was going to happen. Charles started to walk towards the boys dormitories. Victory swiftly followed. “So what do you think were doing?” Victory was almost running to keep up with him. It was sad, really. Everyone knew that Victory had a crush on Charles. Even Charles knew. “Truth or Dare.” Charles and Victory both frowned. He wasn’t wrong, though. Anytime Harlem wanted to “Hang out” he actually just wanted to end up kissing a certain Prescott. “Go invite Callahan, would you?” Charles sighed. He disliked his brother just as much as Victory did, but right now, he just wanted her to go away. Victory shrugged and walked away towards Callahan and Hartford. As soon as Callahan saw her his face lit up. “Hello Prescott!” Victory forced herself to smile. She never liked how her friends little brother was so comfortable with her, even though they were the same age. “I had fun on your yacht this summer.” Hartford frowned. He didn’t know that his best friend was hanging out with his worst enemy. “Me too.” muttered Victory. His accent was already getting to her, even if Charles had the same one. “Wanna hang out with Harlem Langley tonight?” “Sure thing.” Victory sighed. She didn’t think he was actually going to say yes. Especially because he had polo tryouts the next day. Not that he needed sleep, though. He was already guaranteed a spot as captain. Looking at Hartford, Victory turned around and skipped away. Not wanting to waste any time, she headed towards her bedroom to get ready for the party. Hartford looked at Callahan and frowned. He really was hopeless… “Why did you say yes?” Callahan smiled and thought for a second. Then he smiled. Without a second of hesitation, he ran his hand through his hair and almost screamed. “ I think I’m in love with Victory Prescott!” As shocked as he thought he was, Hartford Barnstormer saw this coming. All of the signs were there. After all, you don’t just hang out with a girl on her yacht if you don’t have feelings for her… especially a girl like Victory Prescott. Across the lawn, Hartford could see a distraught Charles Davenport gazing at the sky. Maybe he liked Victory too. After all, it could run in the family. The halls of Hanover academy were crowded with students from ages 12 to 18. An ordinary being would find it difficult to navigate their way through the crowd, but not Victory Prescott. The crowd navigated around her. Ever since her first year at Hanover Academy, everyone knew that she was not to be messed with. Perhaps it was her billionaire status or her piercing stare, but even the new students knew not to cross her. Ayla Montgomery had always thought that the universe must’ve been out to get her. When she was assigned to be roommates with the Prescott heir, she was sure of it. Her father had always been open about his admiration for the Prescott family. But ever since Victory had mocked Ayla’s Australian accent, there was nothing but hatred between the two. They would even be enemies, if Victory ever even bothered to talk to her. Just then, the door opened. Standing in the doorway, was none other than Victory Prescott. Ayla was about to throw a clever insult, but before she could, Victory just shrugged and walked into the bathroom to unpack her makeup. “Spoiled brat.” Victory ignored Ayla’s remark. She was very used to hearing it by now. Sighing, she remembered her first day at Hanover Academy. “Hi, what's your name?” She asked a lost looking boy. Back then, Victory was always on the hunt for friends. The boy looked at her, still frowning. “Barnstormer, Hartford Barnstormer.” Hartford looked at his feet. “Who are your parents?” Victory smiled. She had almost made her first friend at school. “You wouldn’t know them if I told you.” Then it hit Victory. This was the boy her father had told her about. The no namer on scholarship. She certainly could not associate with him. It would just ruin her reputation. “Well, i’m going to run the largest and most successful business there is to offer.” And with that she just walked away. She wasn’t to far away before she heard the boy calling after her. “Spoiled brat!” With tears in her eyes, Victory continued walking to her room. Victory shuddered at the memory. She had almost become friends with her worst enemy, Hartford Barnstormer. The mention of his name made her want to throw a book across the room. She quickly shook away the thought and began to fix her makeup. She had to make sure that she looked good for Charles. After all, they were going to get married one day. Applying her lip gloss, Victory noticed that Ayla was watching her from the bedroom. She smirked. “Are you jealous?” Ayla scowled. “I wouldn't be jealous of a braggy, stuck up diva whose head over heels for someone she’ll never get.” Not knowing what to say, Victory started to apply her mascara. “It's not bragging if it's true.” Victory silently found her bags and started searching for the perfect outfit. She was going to the party of the year after all. She had to be perfect, even if she was going to end up kissing that sorry excuse for a tenth grader Harlem Langley again. Again. Although Harlem Langley was incredibly rich, Victory would rather die than date him. He’s already asked her out 13 times. And he was only drunk 8 of those times. Her father would have just told her to marry up, but there were other boys with pockets just as deep as his. Deeper even. Curfew at Hanover Academy was nine o'clock every evening. Making it to the boys dorms would be tough, but it wasn't anything Victory wasn’t used to. She remembered her first night at school, she got caught for a three in the morning trip to the vending machines. Needless to say, her father was furious. Checking the time, Victory slipped out of her dorm. It was already nine forty five. She had just enough time to make it to the party of the year...