I look down at the phone screen again, reading the caption.
Getting Duval senior's scholarship and Duval junior's dick. Go, North Shore girl!
Just don't tell her boyfriend she's gone from drug dealer to gold digger.
Nyx Mayer, your secrets are safe with me. Until they aren't.
#GoNorthShoreGirl #WehavemoregoldontheSouthBank #Heardshecosts580k
"I was never a drug dealer!" I bite out. "What the hell?"
"Hermes might sprinkle some lies for the drama in their captions," Ella explains with a sympathetic shrug. "But they always use a picture to support their truth."
I scroll down on the account, seeing that the post before this one was about me too. It was a picture of my orientation day. They caught me walking out of the building. I still had my bleached and black hair.
Rags to riches! Our new favorite.
SFU changed… I think they're giving bursaries now or something, because a little rat from the North Shore of Silver Falls got lost on our campus today.
Someone, please, for the love of God, get her to a hairdresser.
Let her know in the comments how…welcome she is here.
#SFUcharity #don'ttouchmyHermesbag #pleaseleavealready
I have no words to describe how cruel the comments are. They talk about how poor I must be, the things I must have done for money, and how unwelcome I am among the rich.
"Why would anyone do that?" I say through a tight throat. "It's horrible."
"I'm sorry, honey," Ella says. "People here lose sight of what matters. They've always had everything they wanted and lived in a bubble with the same people for so long that they're used to tearing each other apart."
"But we don't agree with any of this," Alex reassures me. "We hate it as much as you do, believe me. We're here for you."
Out of nowhere, my margarita is being refilled by Peach because she's not as good with reassuring words as her friends. She's more of an action kind of girl.
"Does thewe're angry girliesplaylist apply to not-boyfriends or the entire campus?"
"You can use it to be angry at anyone you want," Peach says proudly. "The whole world if you want to."
An hour later, the four of us are jumping on two different couches, margaritas spilling everywhere, the taste of salt, lime, and strong tequila numbing my taste buds. The overwhelming feeling of happiness that only female friendships can bring is making me dizzier than the alcohol. I'm drunk on life, my stomach full of delicious cookies, shouting the lyrics to "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood.
Our concert is cut mid-song by the appearance of four hot men in the living room. A row of mocking stares, self-satisfied grins, crossed arms, and shaking heads.
And of course, amused steel eyes find me, a smirk plastered on his beautiful face.
"We're back," Wren says.
"Party's over, Cupcake," Xi adds.
Chris is already offering a hand to Ella, helping her get down from the couch.
"I'm still mad." She pouts.
"Wren Hunter, do not approach me," Peach shouts as her boyfriend takes a step toward her.
"Come on, Trouble. Don't be annoyed."
"I'm not annoyed, I'mfurious."
