Chapter 3

The breaking point came in the counselor's office.

Our school counselor, Ms. Albright, was a kind woman who genuinely tried to help. She had called Elara in to discuss college applications. I was waiting outside for my own appointment.

"Elara," Ms. Albright said gently, her voice audible through the half-open door, "I know the application fees can be a lot. The school has a waiver program for students who need it. It's completely confidential."

Jessica and her friends happened to be walking by. They stopped, listening with predatory stillness.

"A fee waiver?" Jessica sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "But I thought Daddy was buying your way into Yale? Don't they have enough money for a seventy-five-dollar fee?"

Elara's face went pale, then hardened into a mask of pure pride.

"I don't need charity," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "My parents have already handled everything."

She turned and walked out, right past me, her head held high.

Something inside me broke. The frustration, the pity, the constant, grinding annoyance-it all boiled over. I stormed into Ms. Albright's office.

"She's lying," I said, my voice tight. "She needs the waiver. She lives in a trailer park. She has nothing."

Ms. Albright just looked at me with sad eyes.

I wouldn't let it go. I found Elara in the hallway and grabbed her arm. "Just take the help, Elara! Stop with the stupid stories!"

"Let go of me," she hissed, trying to pull away.

"Why?" I yelled, my voice echoing in the now-crowded hallway. "Why do you have to lie about everything? It's pathetic!"

The fight got ugly. We were shouting, right there in front of everyone. I was trying to force her to accept a reality she had spent years denying.

In a moment of pure, blind rage, I screamed the cruelest thing I could think of. The one thing that might finally shatter her fortress of lies.

"What is it, Elara? Are your parents dead or something?"

The world stopped.

Her face crumpled. The sound that came out of her was pure grief. Then her fist connected with my jaw. It wasn't a slap; it was a punch, fueled by a pain so deep I felt it in my bones.

Tears streamed down her face as she backed away, clutching her hand.

"They're heroes!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "They're heroes!"

Then she ran.