Chapter 3

The Walton mansion was as opulent and soulless as I'd imagined. My new bedroom was bigger than the entire apartment I'd shared with three different foster families. Pink ruffles, a canopy bed, a walk-in closet overflowing with designer clothes I'd never wear.

`>> Welcome to the gilded cage. Enjoy the fluff, little bird. #Trapped`

They thought they were buying my compliance. They were, in a way. Just not the way they expected.

My childhood wasn't just poverty; it was a constant battle for survival. My last set of foster parents were neglectful drunks. Before them, it was a family who saw me as free labor. I learned early: the only way out was through my brain.

I remembered winning the middle school spelling bee. I'd rushed home, buzzing, to tell my then-foster mother. She'd just shrugged. "That's nice, dear. Did you finish the dishes?"

`>> Ouch. Origin story of an overachiever. #TraumaFuel`

That indifference was a cold, hard knot in my stomach. It drove me to study until my eyes burned.

"You seem to be settling in," Marian said a few days later, finding me lounging by their Olympic-sized pool, flipping through a fashion magazine.

`>> Phase 1 of "Operation Dumb-Down" proceeding as planned. Or is it? #MasterManipulator`

I put on my best bored-rich-girl expression. "It's okay, I guess. A little dull."

"Dull?" Blake, ever present, chimed in. "What can we do to make it less dull?"

`>> Cue the shopping sprees and mindless entertainment. #DistractionTactics`

I tapped my chin. "Well, since I'm not going to college anymore... I was thinking, maybe I could try some of those fancy SAT prep courses? Just for fun, you know? See what all the fuss is about."

Marian and Blake exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance.

`>> SAT PREP? FOR FUN? Is she for real or is this a 5D chess move? #PlotTwist`

`>> They're sweating. This wasn't in the script. #PanicMode`

Marian forced a smile. "SAT prep? But sweetie, you don't need to..."

"Oh, I know I don't *need* to," I said brightly. "But all those smart kids do it. I just want to feel included. Like, experience it? And those really expensive ones, the ones that guarantee high scores? It would be like a... a hobby."

`>> "Hobby." She's calling intensive SAT prep a hobby. This girl is a legend. #StrategicGenius`

Blake, trying to be the cool fiancé, draped an arm around me. "Sure, babe. If that's what you want. We can get you the best tutors. Anything for my girl."

`>> He's so whipped. Or just really committed to the role. #DownBad`

"And," I added, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, "maybe you could help me? Like, drive me to the library sometimes? We could make it a date."

The library. My sanctuary. My real battlefield.

`>> The library! She's taking him to the library! He's gonna hate it. #Checkmate`

Blake's smile faltered for a split second. "The library? Sure. Sounds... romantic."

`>> Romantic like a root canal. But he has to say yes. #Cornered`

I beamed. "Great! And I'll need a new laptop. Top of the line. For my... hobby."

They couldn't refuse without looking suspicious. They were so sure I was a malleable idiot.

`>> They're funding their own demise. This is peak comedy. #SelfOwn`

The subtitles were having a field day. So was I.