Chapter 1

Sarah Miller clutched the financial aid application for Northwood Academy, the paper crinkling in her nervous grip. This school was her only way out, a shining beacon far from the cramped apartment and the constant smell of her father' s cheap pain medication.

Her dad, David, a man whose army career ended with a roadside bomb and two missing fingers, worked nights as a janitor at the community college. He always said, "You got the brains, Sarah. Use 'em. Don't end up like me."

His words echoed as she walked into her AP History class.

The discussion was on socioeconomic diversity, or Northwood's lack of it.

Tiffany Vanderbilt, queen bee incarnate with her blonde hair and perpetually bored expression, drawled, "It's not about diversity, it's about merit. Some people just don't belong."

Her eyes, cold and blue, landed on Sarah.

A few snickers rippled through the room.

Sarah kept her face blank, her gaze fixed on her worn textbook.

After class, Tiffany cornered her by the lockers.

"Heard you're scrounging for more scholarship money, Miller."

Tiffany then pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill from her designer wallet. She flicked it at Sarah. It fluttered to the floor.

"For lunch," Tiffany said, her voice dripping with condescension. "You look like you could use it."

Sarah stared at the bill, then slowly bent and picked it up.

"Thanks, Vanderbilt," she said, her voice even. "I was a little short today."

She tucked it into her pocket, turned, and walked away, Tiffany' s surprised, angry face reflected in the polished locker doors.

Later that week, in the plush student lounge usually off-limits to scholarship kids, Tiffany held court with her "Legacy Crew."

"She' s so... annoyingly quiet," Tiffany complained, sipping her iced latte. "And there's something about her face. It reminds me of someone, I can't place it. It's unsettling."

Chad, a hulking jock with more muscle than sense, grunted in agreement. "She totally ignored me when I tried to talk to her in the caf."

"Exactly," Tiffany said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "So, I have an idea. A little game. Let's call it the 'Charity Case Dare'."

The Crew leaned in.

"One of us," Tiffany continued, her eyes gleaming, "has to make Sarah Miller fall for them. Wine her, dine her, the whole nine yards. Then, right before graduation, break her heart. Publicly. Utterly."

A ripple of excited, malicious laughter went through the group.

"The prize?" Chad asked.

"Bragging rights," Tiffany said. "And my eternal gratitude. Plus, it' ll be hilarious."

The next day, the attempts began. Chad "accidentally" spilled a bright green smoothie down the front of Sarah' s clean, though faded, blouse.

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, feigning clumsiness. "Let me buy you a new one. Seriously."

Sarah looked at the stain, then at Chad' s insincere face.

"No, thank you," she said politely. "I can manage."

She walked to the restroom, acutely aware of the snickers following her.

Another girl from the Crew, a redhead named Brittany, tried to "help" Sarah with her locker, which was notoriously stiff.

"Here, let me," Brittany chirped, fiddling with the combination. "We should totally hang out sometime."

"I' m usually busy studying," Sarah replied, gently extricating her lock. "Thanks, though."

Each encounter felt off, too sudden, too forced. Sarah had been an outcast at Northwood since day one; this sudden interest wasn't kindness, it was a red flag. She' d dealt with bullies before, the kind who tripped you in the hall or spread nasty rumors. This felt different, more coordinated, like a hunt.