It was day three of freshman orientation, and the August heat was brutal. I paid a few of the guys from our orientation group to help me haul the Starbucks order from the campus cafe. “Dismissed!” the orientation leader finally yelled. The sun was beating down, and a couple of kids had already tapped out with heatstroke. I figured a round of Frappuccinos was in order. Honestly, I was mostly just craving one myself, but drinking alone felt kind of lame. Plus, my older brother, Evan, had been on my case about "making connections" and "building a network," so this was a perfect excuse. It also didn't hurt that the Starbucks on campus was technically one of my brother's investments. He's a total health nut and got paranoid about the syrups and additives at other coffee shops, so he had his executive assistant, Jessica, arrange for a high-end, organic-focused franchise right on campus. At least this way, he knew the stuff I was drinking wasn't complete poison. After the guys helped me set down the cardboard trays, I started handing out the drinks, giving the first few to them as a thank-you. As I moved on to the rest of our group, a sharp scoff cut through the chatter. "Wow, can't even hand out coffee without sucking up to the guys first. Pathetic." I frowned, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from, but everyone was crowding around, grabbing for the icy drinks. It was impossible to see who’d said it. I sighed. Whatever. Haters gonna hate, right? I kept passing out the Frappuccinos, and everyone who got one was ecstatic. "Zoe, you're the best!" "All hail Queen Zoe! You have my undying loyalty for the next four years!" I laughed, joking back with them. But then, that same snide voice piped up again. "College students, and you're all bought for the price of a sugary drink. What a bunch of short-sighted sheep." This time, before I could even react, other people jumped in. "Says the person hiding in the back and whispering insults. Got something to say? Say it to her face!" another girl shot back. "Seriously! Zoe's just being nice because we're all melting out here. What's your problem? Don't like it, don't drink it. God, what a jerk." I stood there, feeling awkward with the last tray of drinks in my hands. I suddenly remembered what Evan had told me before I left for school. "Zo, be friendly, but don't be too flashy. You never know who you're dealing with, and sometimes people get jealous. You can do something nice and still get burned for it." Maybe this is what he was talking about. It takes all kinds, I guess. Trying to de-escalate, I spoke to the anonymous voice in the crowd. "Hey, I'm not trying to buy anyone's friendship. I just genuinely wanted to do something nice since it's so hot. I really do want to be friends with everyone." My explanation was met with a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Genuinely?" the voice sneered. "You call showing off with your brother's hard-earned money 'genuine'?" A skinny girl with a severe haircut pushed her way out of the crowd. She marched right up to me and, without a word, slapped the Frappuccino right out of my hand. The plastic cup hit the track, splitting open on impact. Caramel-colored slush splattered all over the rubberized surface, a good amount of it soaking into the cuff of my orientation-issued sweatpants. It was sticky and gross, and I was so stunned I just stood there frozen. "Zoe, I know your family has money," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "But that's your brother's money, earned through his hard work! What gives you the right to just throw it away like this?" "I can't stand entitled princesses like you who've never worked a day in their lives!" she continued, her voice rising. "Orientation is supposed to build character, to teach us discipline! And what do you do? You disrupt everything, encouraging everyone to indulge in lazy consumerism. Don't you see how desperate you look for attention?" "You call it genuine? I call it flexing. You just wanted to show off!" Before I could process what was happening, she kicked the cardboard tray, sending the remaining dozen Frappuccinos flying. Then, she pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. "Our orientation leader is out sick, so she appointed me as the temporary group leader." She held up the paper, which had some scribbled handwriting on it. "From now on, everyone in this group listens to me. Nobody is allowed to drink the coffee Zoe bought! Anyone who does, I'm reporting you for disorderly conduct during orientation." The group went silent. Everyone stared, wide-eyed and heartbroken, at the sugary puddles on the ground. The girl, however, seemed to be high on her own power trip. She even started introducing herself. Her name was Sarah Jenkins, she said. She was a scholarship student from a poor town in Appalachia. She'd known real hardship, which is why she couldn't stand to see people like us squandering our privilege. "You people can't handle a little heat? The men in my town work in factories in hundred-degree weather, and you don't see them whining for five-dollar coffees!" she lectured. "If our universities are just churning out spoiled brats like you, what's the future of this country? I may not be able to change everyone, but as long as I'm in charge here, I will not let this culture of extravagance take root in our group!" She turned back to me, her eyes burning. "Zoe, you started this. After today's session, you will write a five-thousand-word apology. And whatever you spent on these drinks, you will deposit that same amount into a group fund. You love showing off your money? Fine. That money will now be used to buy bottled water for everyone for the rest of the week. I will be the one to distribute it. Frugally." Her speech left everyone speechless. She'd taken my simple gesture of buying coffee and twisted it into a national crisis. The moral high ground she’d claimed was so extreme, no one knew how to argue. The few guys who’d already started their drinks quietly put them down. Everyone shuffled back to their spots on the field. I started to walk back, too. As I passed her, our eyes met for a split second. And in that moment, I remembered a photo. It was a headshot on a file in my brother's office, under a stack of papers for his foundation's scholarship program. He had even mentioned her to me. "Zo, this girl is going to the same university as you, same major and everything. The foundation is sponsoring her. When you get to campus, maybe she can show you the ropes, help you out." So, this was Sarah. The girl my brother was paying to go to college. At lunch, my new roommate, Riley, was still fuming about the morning's disaster as we sat in the dining hall. "I still can't believe that girl! You do something nice for everyone, and Sarah just goes completely psycho," she complained, stabbing a French fry with her fork. "And what's with the 'temporary leader' power trip? Acting like she's a drill sergeant. Ugh, I was so looking forward to that Frappuccino!" Riley threw her head back and pretended to cry. I pushed a piece of my fried chicken onto her plate. "Here, have this. I'll get you another one later, I promise." "Maybe she's just… intense," I offered, trying to be charitable. "Different backgrounds, you know? We can't really relate, so maybe we should just steer clear." As I spoke, I accidentally nudged Riley's arm, and the piece of chicken I’d just given her tumbled onto the table. We looked at each other, and then both said at the same time: "Five-second rule!" Riley was just about to snatch it up and rinse it off when Sarah appeared at our table. She slammed her tray down with a loud bang that made half the dining hall look over. Riley and I just stared at her, completely confused. Here we go again. "Zoe, was I not clear enough on the field this morning?" she began, her voice dripping with condescension. "You think because you're rich, you can just be wasteful? Do you have any idea what it takes to raise a chicken, the labor that goes into getting this food on our plates? People work their fingers to the bone so we can eat, and you just toss a perfectly good piece of chicken away because it touched the table for a second? Are you even human? Do you deserve to be in college?" I officially retracted my earlier statement about her being "intense." She was just a straight-up lunatic who loved to hear herself talk. I was done being nice. I stood up. "First of all," I said, my voice sharp and clear. "We didn't throw it away. We were about to apply the five-second rule and eat it before you showed up and started your unhinged rant. Secondly, while I may not know the ins and outs of poultry farming, I do know not to waste food. Unlike you, who kicked over an entire box of perfectly good drinks that people worked to make. What, in your mind, the labor of a barista doesn't count as 'real work'? Is it okay to trample on their efforts?" I leaned in closer. "And finally, when you slammed your tray down, you spilled rice all over the floor. Since you're such an expert on thrift and appreciating every grain, why don't you pick it up and eat it?" Riley, catching on, quickly grabbed the piece of chicken, ran it under the water fountain, and popped it in her mouth. She chewed dramatically, swallowed, and then pointed to the grains of rice on the floor by Sarah's feet, raising an eyebrow. "See? I ate it. No food wasted here," Riley said with a smirk. "Your turn." Sarah’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. With a furious scream, she swept everything off our table—trays, plates, cups—sending a shower of food and soda across the floor. My white sneakers and Riley's jeans were instantly splattered with greasy, sticky stains. She stood there, glaring at our ruined clothes, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face before it melted back into a mask of victimhood. "Zoe! Riley! You are going too far!" she cried, her voice cracking. "I was just trying to make a point about not wasting food, and you—you publicly humiliate me like this! I know you rich people look down on us, but do you have to be so cruel?" I almost laughed. We had no intention of actually making her eat rice off the floor; we were just trying to get her to back off. But she had to escalate, had to turn everything into some grand class struggle. We’re all just college students here. Nobody cares where you came from until you make it your entire personality. Was I supposed to feel guilty for being born into a good family? My patience was completely gone. "How did we humiliate you?" I shot back. "You're the one who preaches about waste. Riley ate the chicken. She practiced what you preached. But when it's your turn, suddenly all your high-and-mighty principles don't apply?" "You know what, Sarah? I was going to let the whole Frappuccino thing go, but you just had to keep pushing. So, let's settle this. This morning, you destroyed thirty-five drinks. At seven dollars a pop, that's two hundred and forty-five dollars. Then there are my shoes." I pointed to my ruined designer sneakers. "These are fifteen hundred dollars. They're covered in your mess. I won't even make you replace them. Just pay for the specialty cleaning. The place I go charges fifty bucks. So that's… let's call it an even three hundred dollars you owe me. Pay up." If she wanted me to be the spoiled rich girl, fine. I could play that part. Riley chimed in. "Oh, yeah, me too. My jeans aren't as expensive as Zoe's shoes, but they're not cheap. The cleaning fee will be twenty bucks." If I remembered correctly, my brother had only transferred one month of living expenses to Sarah so far—about five hundred dollars. Given how frugal she claimed to be, she should have more than enough left to cover this. And honestly, this was just my way of getting my family's money back. If she was so high and mighty, so in love with the struggle, she didn't need our charity. I have a soft spot for helping people achieve their goals, and Sarah’s goal was clearly to suffer. Who was I to stand in her way? I looked her dead in the eye and used her own favorite weapon against her. "A group leader should lead by example. You're not going to skip out on your debt, are you?" The other students in the dining hall started chiming in. "Yeah, leaders should be responsible!" "I thought the whole point was 'poor but proud.' Is that only for show?" "Seriously, Zoe and Riley's money didn't just appear out of thin air. You wrecked their stuff. If you don't pay, they should just call campus security." Cornered and outnumbered, Sarah had no choice. She pulled out her phone and, with a pained expression, Venmoed me and Riley the money. I watched the notification pop up on my screen and smiled. Then I held up my phone for everyone to see. "This afternoon," I announced, "the Frappuccinos are on me again!" During the afternoon orientation session, I went up to our leader and explained the situation. He was surprisingly cool about it and gave me permission to get more drinks for the group, even assigning a few people to help me carry them. When we got back, I started handing them out. To my surprise, Sarah was standing in line. I was looking down as I passed out the cups, so I didn't see her until it was her turn. When I looked up, she had the same condescending expression on her face. "I'm not here because I want one of your drinks," she said haughtily. "I just think since you already bought them, it would be wasteful not to take one. So I'm queuing up. Otherwise, I wouldn't even bother." She sniffed. "After all, I'm not like you people, always chasing cheap thrills." I nodded slowly, a small smile playing on my lips. Then I snatched the Frappuccino back out of her hand. "Oh, in that case, I wouldn't want to force you to indulge with the rest of us hedonists," I said sweetly. "I only bought thirty-four this time anyway, so I didn't have one for you to begin with. Could you please step aside? You're holding up the line." The guy behind her didn't even wait for her to move. He just hip-checked her out of the way and took the drink I offered him. He happened to be one of the guys who'd helped me that morning and gotten cheated out of his coffee, so he shot Sarah a nasty look. He walked right up to her, took a long, exaggerated sip, and sighed with pleasure. "Mmm, delicious. What's wrong, Sarah? Don't like Frappuccinos? Or just can't afford one?" Sarah's face turned beet red. She clenched her fists, glared at me for a long moment, and then finally yelled, "You'll regret this, Zoe! Don't you dare underestimate me!" That evening, Riley and I were in our dorm room, binging a new show on Netflix, when she suddenly shot up from her chair. "OMG, OMG, OMG!" she shrieked. "What is it?" I asked, startled. She swallowed hard. "I was just scrolling through the campus Yik Yak, and there's a huge rumor going around that Evan Holt's secret fiancée is a freshman here at our school!" "Zoe, you know who Evan Holt is, right? The CEO of Holt Holdings?" She shoved her phone in my face, showing me the anonymous message board. "Look, people are saying she's in the class of '29! Holy crap, can you imagine? Who is that lucky? I heard he's ridiculously hot." She paused, looking at me. "Wait, why are you so calm? Don't tell me you don't know who Evan Holt is." Riley shook my shoulder. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little awkward. How was I supposed to tell her that not only did I know who Evan Holt was, but he was also my brother? But that wasn't the main issue. The main issue was, since when did my brother have a fiancée? Wasn't he… gay? I grabbed Riley's arm to stop her from vibrating with excitement. "Riley, calm down. Evan Holt… he's my brother." "Holt Holdings is named after him, and my name, Zoe Holt, is where the 'Z.H.' in the logo comes from." Riley just stared at me. She grabbed me, spun me around three times like she was inspecting me for alien markings. "Are you serious? Evan Holt is your brother? But your last name isn't Holt." "I use my mom's last name," I explained. "But he's like, six-foot-three, and you're… five-foot-three." Ugh, why does everyone always bring up my height? It's not my fault I didn't win the genetic lottery in that department. Just then, my phone buzzed with a video call from Evan. I answered, and his handsome face filled the screen. Oh, wait. Two handsome faces. My brother, and his movie-star boyfriend, Leo Vance. The moment they both said "Hey, Zo!" Riley let out a squeal that could shatter glass. "NO WAY! Zoe, you really are Evan Holt's sister!" she whisper-shouted. "Wait a minute… why is he with Leo Vance? The Leo Vance? Isn't he, like, super private about his dating life?" I nodded awkwardly. "Yeah. My brother's even more private." Riley's eyes went wide. "So the whole fiancée rumor on Yik Yak is fake?" "One hundred percent." Hearing the word "fiancée," Evan immediately turned to Leo and dropped to his knees on the floor of their hotel room. "Babe, I swear on my life, you're the only one for me." Leo just laughed. "Zoe, you'd better screenshot this. You can use it to blackmail him for money later." "Done and done!" I said, snapping a picture. After a few more jokes, Evan got serious. "So, how's school, Zo? You look like you've lost weight. Is the food in the dining hall that bad?" He scanned my dorm room through the camera. "And what is with this room? It's so… basic. Are you sure you're okay here? I told you, you could pick any condo you wanted near campus. Why did you insist on living in a dorm? Look at this hardship you're enduring." I glanced around our room. Sure, it was a far cry from my bedroom at home, but it was a pretty standard dorm. Maybe even a little nicer than average. Plus, didn't he tell me to "integrate with my peers" before I left? Now he was second-guessing. Besides, I really liked Riley. If I moved out, I'd be all alone again. Unless she wanted to move with me, but that was a conversation for after orientation week. "I'm fine, Evan. It's totally fine," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Look, we have AC and our own washing machine. I heard from friends at other schools that they have to use a communal laundry room for the whole building. This is practically luxury. Besides, someone already gave us a lecture today about how spoiled we are and how we need to embrace hardship to prepare for the 'real world.'" Leo immediately jumped in. "Who says everyone has to suffer? If you have the means to be comfortable, choosing to suffer is just stupid. It's called manufacturing misery. And besides, you have two older brothers. Who would dare give you a hard time?" As Leo was talking, I panned the camera around to give them the full tour. When the lens passed over our bunk beds, both of them frowned. "Wait, are those bunk beds? Is that what college dorms are like now?" Evan asked, horrified. "How is anyone supposed to sleep on a bed that narrow? You know what? If you're really determined to stay on campus and not get 'special treatment,' then fine. Tomorrow, I'll have the foundation's finance department wire a donation to the university to renovate all the freshman dorms." And just like that, it was decided. A corporate donation, in the company's name. It was actually a smart move—good PR, and it might even attract some top graduates to work for Holt Holdings. I just never imagined that my brother's act of generosity would end up making the girl pretending to be his fiancée look like the real deal. My brother moves fast. The very next day, during our morning session on the field, we saw a fleet of trucks with the Holt Holdings logo pulling up to the freshman dorms. Swarms of construction workers followed, ready to begin the renovations. The project was being overseen by Evan's assistant, Jessica. If there's one thing I can say about my brother, it's that he absolutely spoils me. Growing up, anything I wanted, he made sure I got it. If I'd asked for the moon, he would've found a way to build a ladder. So, in a way, Sarah wasn't entirely wrong. I'd never really known hardship. Man, I was suddenly missing my brother a lot. My thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of whispers from the girls next to me. "Oh my God, it must be true! The rumor about Evan Holt's fiancée being here? It was posted yesterday, and today Holt Holdings is renovating the dorms! He's totally doing it for her. He can't stand to see his queen suffer in a crappy dorm room." "I'm so jealous! When will it be my turn to be that lucky?" It was our break time, so the whole group was gossiping. Riley and I just sat and listened. Last night, I'd asked her to keep my connection to Evan a secret for now. I wanted to see who was behind this ridiculous rumor. Just then, Sarah stood up. She had a strange, smug look on her face as she addressed the gossiping girls with disdain. "You're all so pathetic. Have you never seen real money before?" Then, she stalked over to where Riley and I were sitting on the grass, looming over us. "Zoe, I thought your family was rich. How come they aren't donating money to renovate the dorms? All you know how to do is buy cheap coffee to win people over. Such a tacky, new-money move." She smirked. "See? People with real wealth are discreet. They don't need to flash their cash around like you do." Her gaze swept over Riley and the others. "And you people," she sneered, "are just as pathetic. Bought for the price of a Frappuccino. I bet you all feel pretty stupid right now." Riley, who never backs down from a fight, jumped to her feet. "Stop calling people pathetic! And what's wrong with a Frappuccino? At least Zoe was being nice, trying to help us cool down. Unlike some people, who are just bitter because they can't have any." Someone else chimed in. "Yeah, with the way you're acting, anyone would think you're Evan Holt's fiancée." Sarah let out a cold, knowing laugh. "Whether I am or not is none of your business. All you need to know is that it could never be any of you." Riley was about to fire back, but I pulled her down. Her temper was a short fuse, and I was afraid she'd blow our cover. "Riley, not yet," I whispered. "Don't scare the snake out of its hole." And I had a feeling this particular snake was about to make its move.
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