Page 481 of Filthy Elites

“Wow, that’s such a cute name. My first college friend is a girl with a cute name, how cool is that?”

Forcing a smile to my lips I offer it in her direction, not slowing my pace, despite the fact that I can see she’s having to walk quicker than she’s comfortable with to keep up with me.

“What are your housemates like? There’s six other people in my house, three girls and three guys, they’re all couples. It’s odd, but okay. I heard a lot of sex noises last night,” she chirps.

“I haven’t met mine yet.”

“How come?”

“No one was there when I got here yesterday and I crashed pretty much as soon as I unpacked. They were still asleep when I left this morning.” I say with a shrug.

“That’s a shame, I bet they were all excited to meet you.”

Not speaking, I wait for her to walk away, but instead she stays at my side, carrying the conversation without me needing to speak as she prattles on about everything she’s excited about. When we reach the cafeteria and I grab a tray, she’s at my side, then we’re sitting at a table and I haven’t said a word in more than ten minutes, but I’m not sure she’s noticed.

“Shall I come to your place tonight, or do you want to come to mine?” she says and then pauses, smiling widely.

“What?” I splutter.

“For the party?”

“I’m not going to any party.”

Her lips part and her mouth falls open. “You have to go to the freshmen welcome party, everyone goes.”

“No thanks,” I say dismissively, cutting off a piece of French toast and lifting it to my lips.

Sammy’s talking but I’m not paying any attention as the feeling of being watched hits me again. That’s the third time since I got here yesterday that I’ve gotten the feeling of being observed and it’s starting to freak me out.

“Hey,” I interrupt.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I know I talk too much. I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m so nervous and excited,” she says, talking at a million miles a minute.

“Is there anyone looking over here?” I ask, interrupting her again.

“Like who?”

“I don’t know. I keep having this feeling like someone is watching me.”

“Oh I hate that,” she says, carefully glancing around the room. “I can’t see anyone, but it’s getting pretty busy in here now.”

For the first time since she appeared at my side, Sammy falls silent and I take a moment to actually look at her. Her hair is a rich black color, pinned up on top of her head in a high ponytail that swishes across her shoulders. She’s classically pretty, with warm-brown eyes and a smile that screams nice. She’s the type of person who I would probably have made friends with when I was younger, but now I feel too jaded and shuttered to be around her.

“I appreciate the invite, but I don’t like parties; truthfully I’m not really a big fan of people in general. I’m a loner without all the emo melancholy,” I say, trying to explain why I’m going to get up and leave in a minute and then never speak to her again. There’s a pang of longing for a friend in my chest, but I shut it down. Court was my ride or die, until she wasn’t, she threw me over for popularity and I’m still hurt by it. I have no interest in befriending a stranger.

“Well that’s okay, we don’t have to go to the party, we could just hang out instead,” Sammy suggests hopefully.

“That’s sweet of you, but you should go to the party, meet people, make friends, find a guy and hook up. Don’t waste your time on me, I’ll only drag you down.” Picking up my still mostly full tray I stand up and leave, keeping my coffee, but dumping my food in the trash before walking out of the cafeteria, never once glancing at the kind girl who wanted to be my friend.

Wandering for a few minutes, I end up in the quad where the orientation is being held. The lawn is perfectly cut, the meandering paths clean and full of students. Finding a tree, I sit down at its base, resting my back up against the trunk and slide in my AirPods, watching the world go by as the dulcet tones of Adele fill my ears. I know I’m a walking cliché—wounded girl listening to angsty love songs alone after having just walked away from the chance of a new friendship—but honestly I don’t care. Maybe I am actually a loner with all the emo angst, all I know is that I’d rather be alone, it’s safer that way. There’s no one to lose if there’s no one there in the first place.

Orientation is boring, the excited energy that seems to bounce around the congregated kids slides off me like water off a waxed car. All of the happiness I’d found after my run has faded and I’m ready to go back to Collinswood and sleep for the rest of the day. Classes officially start tomorrow and I join the line to collect my schedule, wondering why in this day and age they can’t just email it to me.

“Name?” the guy at the desk asks.

“Starling Kennedy.”

His fingers move across the keys. “Starling Lockwood?”

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