She was excited and sent a photo right away: a team of seven or eight stylists in a design meeting for my new look.
I smiled, locked my phone, and turned to Tessa Wynn.
“Let’s go get haircuts later. Invite Lydia Quinn too—my treat.”
“Alright! But only if you let Lydia and me treat you to dinner after. We don’t want to mooch off you all the time.”
I was about to reply when Scarlet’s shrill voice interrupted from behind.
“Where are you eating? Why didn’t you invite me? We’re dormmates—why are you excluding me? Celeste, do you think you’re better than me?”
Her voice was so loud that it drew the attention of the entire class.
Noticing everyone’s stares, she immediately switched to a pitiful tone and lowered her head.
“I know you’re all from wealthy local families. I’m just a girl from a small town—you must all look down on me. But I really just want to be friends.”
But her idea of friendship?
Every time we went out, she used her supposed poverty to dodge the bill.
Whenever we insisted she pay, she guilt-tripped us with sob stories—how hard her life was, how little she had.
After enough of that, none of us wanted to hang out with her anymore.