Chapter 2

One Tuesday, I watched her pick at a dry piece of bread she' d pulled from her pocket. It was pathetic. I broke my turkey sandwich in half and pushed it across the desk.

"Here," I said.

She looked at the sandwich, then at me. A condescending little smile played on her chapped lips.

"My mother always says we should be kind to the less fortunate," she said, taking it. "It builds character."

I almost snatched it back. My charity, twisted into a prop for her imaginary, benevolent mother. I just clenched my jaw and said nothing.

The next day, the smell was worse. It was a hot day, and the stale odor was suffocating. I couldn't focus. I couldn't breathe. Finally, I snapped.

"God, Elara, don't you ever shower?" The words were out before I could stop them.

The whole table went quiet. Jessica, sitting two seats down, smirked.

Elara didn't flinch. "I have a personal steam shower at home. The plumber is fixing a minor pressure issue. It's terribly inconvenient."

Jessica let out a loud, fake laugh. "A steam shower? In that trailer park you live in?"

I froze. I didn't know where she lived. I just knew she was poor.

Elara' s eyes narrowed, but her voice stayed eerily calm. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Our flight from Zurich was canceled yesterday. My father is demanding the airline compensate us with new MacBooks for the trouble."

She just doubled down. Always. It was infuriating, and for a second, watching Jessica's cruel smile, I felt a tiny, unwanted pang of something for Elara. It felt like watching a car crash in slow motion.