"Okay, what am I missing here?" I ask, panic coming back to my stomach.
The three women all eye my cup intensely, and I down it without hesitation.
"You're new," Alex finally says. "It's piquing everyone's interest."
Peach looks at someone over my shoulder. "Especially thirsty-ass boys. Fuck off."
I turn around, only to catch a group of men walking away. They're dressed like the opposite of the men on the North Shore. Button-downs for a college party? Come on. Their jeans look like they've been fitted by a tailor, and even their seemingly informal sneakers are from brands I’ve never heard of. People here don't seem to show any big designer names. They're the old-money type of rich that pretends to dress modestly but are actually wearing clothes that probably cost more than my rent.
"There are new people every year. You know, freshmen?"
"What Alex isn't saying," Peach explains, "is that you're new to this part of town. Ninety percent of the people here went to the same prep school as us. We've seen each other our entire lives. Same functions, same schools, town balls, country club, sports events. Why do you think there are so little students at SFU?"
"What about the other ten?"
"International students from other preppy elite schools around the world," Ella adds.
I practically gulp. "Is itthatobvious that I'm from the North Shore?"
They all pause, clearly unsure how to avoid hurting my feelings.
"Well," Ella starts softly. "Just that you're not from here. Old money recognizes old money, you know? It's stupid, really.Wedon't care. We— God, I don't know how to not sound like a privileged asshole right now."
I laugh a little, letting Alex refill my cup. "Don't worry. I get it. We’d spot you guys from a mile away if you came to our side oftown. You're rich, it shows. I'm poor, and it shows too. Let's not beat around the bush."
"You're at SFU now," Alex adds. "That’s all that matters. And people here can be horrible, so we want to make sure you feel welcome with us."
My mouth twists, and I notice a group of friends not far from us clearly talking about me, their eyes going back and forth, their laughs echoing.
"I think someone took a picture of me earlier. Am I dressed that badly?"
"Oh,that." Peach points at my drink again, and I gulp more of it. "We have a gossip account."
My mouth drops open for the second time tonight. "Is this real-lifeGossip Girl?"
"No." Ella chuckles, then winces. "Much worse. But don't worry. We've all been on it. Our entire group has, and we survived."
"Barely," Peach mumbles.
"Peach," Alex scolds her. "You're going to scare her."
"Hermes is horrible. I'm trying to prepare her."
"Hermes? So, someone’s going to be talking about me on that account tomorrow?"
And that silence is back. I'm starting to understand their dynamic, so I turn directly to Peach, because she's obviously the one who will spill truths without fear of hurting someone's feelings.
"You've already been on it."
That drink is feeling like it's going to come back up.
"What? Can I see? Who owns that account?"
"We don't know, but let's not ruin the night," Alex jumps back in. "To be completely transparent, they said that you didn’t belong here. You don’t need to see the exact post; you'll see plenty once the year starts. Enjoy your first night here,Nyx. You'll figure out soon enough that people born with silver spoons in their mouths are still starving forsomething.Often, they like to eat each other to feed that hunger. But we've got you."
That sentence settles into my head, sensing the truth from the years of experience these girls have with their peers. A lifetime, really. I might have had to be careful about violence on the North Shore, but I'm not prepared for metaphorical knives in my back. I'm not used to this type of crowd, who smiles to your face and sends pictures of you to a gossip account the second you look away.
Ella pours me another drink, and I realize the buzzing in my body is helping with the anxiety. My lips taste sweet, of cherry and sugar. My head feels lighter, and the party around me seems more welcoming. I notice our circle has gotten bigger. People are standing around us, a lot of them hovering by the guys, even though they don't have chairs. Mainly, they're trying to access Achilles. Both men and women are miserably attempting to get his attention. It looks like it's not only me and the other groupies online who venerate him. Even in his elitist environment, he's a superstar.
