Page 544 of Filthy Elites

“Rose is in two of your classes,” the curly-haired blonde tells me.

I glance at the other girl, and I do vaguely recognize her. “AP biology,” I guess. The second, I’m not sure about.

They nod in unison. “And calculus.”

“You’re killing it,” Rose says.

I’m aware, so I shrug.

Audrey informed me our midterm report cards arrived last week. I did exactly as I expected: great in science, good enough in gym, shit at everything else.I should scrape by in history with my C-, but I only managed a D in Spanish.That would have been okay in my old school, but D’s a failing grade here.

In AP bio and calculus, I have an A+ and each teacher made a note to let us know that I'm top of the class. Not that I care. Audrey was proud, though.

“Rose has never come second onanytest. She tells me you’re kicking her ass.”

I sigh. Am I going to have to deal with nerd bullying now? Is that a thing? “I guess.”

I chose to take those classes to pad my transcript, and to guarantee at least a couple of hours won’t be complete torture every day this year.

“Listen, so, we’re part of the science club. The thing is, most of our members graduated last year, and because we just have six now, we barely have any budget. We asked for a raise and the faculty would only consider it if we have seven members—that’s how many students it takes to form a club,” the blonde gushes, barely even breathing. “They’re not disbanding us, but they’re also not giving us any money. So, I was wondering if you’d consider joining us this year.”

Both the offer and my eagerness are unexpected. I wouldn’t say I have much in the way of team spirit—my junior year disillusioned me of anything done with other people. But nerds don’t count. They’re pariahs, like me.

At Thorn Falls West, after the Vince thing, I gravitated toward Lola, the well-known hooker, and Morgan, the taciturn weirdo either asleep or zoning out, for that very reason. We used to live in the same trailer park a few years prior, so I already knew them a little. They gave zero shit about the opinion of the rest of the school.

Maybe I could hang out with the nerd squad. Not always eating by myself would be nice.

Before I can accept, Rose decides to try to convince me. “We only meet once a week—Wednesdays, after school. Sometimes we go out on other days, but it’s not required. It wouldn’t take much time.”

“It would be good for your trans—” the blonde begins.

I decide to interrupt them before they pull out an alphabetized list of benefits. “Sure. Thanks for thinking of me.”

The girls exchange a look, both gaping like they’d expected the opposite.

I manage not to roll my eyes.Great. More people judging me based on rumors.

“That’s…great.”

“Amazing,” Rose adds.

“I don’t work on Wednesdays, so it works for me.” And I’d rather stay away from home as much as possible, given that my new house is a few yards away from my tormentor’s. I don’t have anything to do until six at night. Plenty of time for him to make my life hell. “Are we starting tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Rose practically squeals. "That's great! Thank you so much."

"I'm Bella. Belladona, not Isabella. I'm the club president. Not that we're really one cohesive club as such—we kind of just work on our own things separately while in the same room. But it's cool, I promise."

I snort. This adorable curly-haired nerd wouldn’t know cool if it hit her in the face. The science club couldn't be further from anyone's definition of fun. Still, I do, in fact, need an extracurricular. Besides, these two don’t seem to know I’m public enemy number one. If they know, they don’t care. Nerds can be as cliquey as everyone else, but they don’t tend to concern themselves with the opinion of the majority of the school.

They tell me about their current projects as we eat.

Bella’s a sophomore, and Rose, a senior, like me. Bella’s here on a scholarship—she’s from a small town a few miles south, near Lake Crowley. I envy her for not being raised in this shitty town.

“My parents work for the Hunts,” Rose says. “They pay for my tuition. We could never afford a place in this school.”

“Same. My mom’s employer pays mine.” I doubt her parents fuck the Hunts, but you never know.

I know of two Hunts: the real estate mogul whose face is plastered on every other billboard in town, and his son Camden. I’ve never met the father in person. The son, I’ve had the displeasure of glancing at numerous times. He’s part of Chase’s posse. Enough said.

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