Contemporary Milan, Italy.
In the dazzling world of Vincitore Academy, Margherita, a half-Korean firebrand from humble beginnings, ignites a clash of wills with the P2, the city's elite quartet of dazzling and infuriatingly entitled boys.
Yet, privi...
Margherita hopped off the Pescatore Dry Cleaners van.
The early spring afternoon baked her hoodie as she stretched. Downtown Milan buzzed in her ears. A tram clanged and the scooters zipped behind her. A yellowish haze of smog hung above the pastel-colored buildings draped in wisteria and geranium, causing the Alps in the background to fade like an old postcard.
Dad called from the driver's seat. "Honey, go get the laundry. I'll make sure we don't get a ticket!"
Margherita assessed the gilded Vincitore Academy sign, the wrought-iron gates, and the few posh students who ambled toward the exit in the bright afternoon.
"Dad, can I stay here?"
He frowned. "But you can't drive. This place is so fancy probably someone called on us already. Go on!"
Resigned, Margherita pulled up her hood and hid behind the giant plastic bin, wary of its thunderous rumbling against the cobblestones.
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Two students in designer outfits and styled hair scowled at her. "Hey, Cheap-o, wanna do my laundry, too?"
Margherita loved her knock-off, white combat boots and no-name clothes. She saluted him with her third finger, but the guy had already moved on, her role as a prop concluded as soon as he'd made his friend laugh. Better this way.
She aimed for the back of the magnificent brick building that, clad in roses and ivy, served as high school. The college and lower grade sections of the academy were strewn about the manicured grounds, interwoven by gardens and walking paths of blue lobelia and red geranium.
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She pushed the cart around to the staff-only double doors. Sweat and acrylic paint: a pile of dirty art smocks and sports uniforms lay at the bottom of a chute. Margherita dove in, holding her breath, loading garments in the bin. Her public high school offered only Phys Ed—at the gym of a close-by elementary school.
On the way out, she stopped to gulp fresh air and let her eyes adjust to the sun. At the very top of the building, on the flat roof three floors above, a wild-haired guy enjoyed the privileged view, hands in his pockets.
