Chapter 1 The New Transfer Student

The new transfer student was named Zachary Sussman. He had joined our class just last week and sat by the window in the third row.

He had made friends with everyone on his very first day. He had a silver tongue, called everyone by a funny nickname, and possessed the effortless charm of a social butterfly who could make friends anywhere.

I was handing out everyone's breakfast that morning when I suddenly heard him speak up from the back of the classroom.

"Hey, I did the math just now. That cafe outside the school charges eight dollars for a bowl of brown sugar oatmeal if you buy it individually, but it's only six-fifty if the whole class orders together.

"You guys haven't been letting someone pocket the difference this whole time, have you?"

His voice wasn't particularly loud, but it carried just enough for the entire class to hear.

I could feel the way everyone's eyes shifted toward me almost immediately after he said those words.

The bell rang before anyone could say anything.

I swallowed the explanation that had been at the tip of my tongue. As a result, I couldn't focus on a single word the math teacher was saying in the next period. My mind kept replaying Zachary's accusation.

Pocket the difference?

Please, I'd been doing this for free for the past three years!

Back in the first year, our class representative had pointed out that I was the only student who commuted from home. Since boarding students weren't allowed to leave campus whenever they wanted, she'd asked if I could help pick up breakfast for everyone.

I'd felt bad saying no, so I agreed.

Initially, it had only been two or three people.

Then, five.

Then, ten.

Eventually, it escalated into me bringing breakfast for more than 50 classmates every morning.

In the end, I had to get up at 4 a.m. every single day, ride my bike for 15 minutes to the commercial strip outside the school, and stand in line at one breakfast shop after another. I would place orders for oatmeal, bagels, breakfast burritos, pastries, and even sandwiches.

Even worse, every order came with its own special requests. Some would ask for no onion, another would ask for extra hot sauce, and some would demand that it still had to be warm or crispy when it got to them.

They piled on so many different requests, but they only ordered small quantities from each shop. Hence, there wasn't a single vendor willing to offer the kind of discount Zachary had been talking about. The only option was for me to queue up at each store myself and pay full price.

It took me at least two hours just to buy everything. However, not once in those three years had I ever charged anyone an errand fee. In fact, I would even go out of my way to cover the difference out of my own pocket when classmates didn't have enough money.

Yet, all it took was a few words from Zachary to turn three years of my thankless effort into "profiting off the price difference."

'Ding!'

My phone suddenly pinged with the notification of the class group chat.

The group had originally been created by our class representative for school announcements, but over time it had gradually become the place where everyone submitted their breakfast orders to me.

I scrolled to the top and saw Zachary's latest message.

"Hey, everyone! I just confirmed it with my uncle. Every vendor on the commercial strip is willing to give us a group discount! Oatmeal is $6.50, breakfast burrito combos are $7.00, and if we order a whole batch from the bagel shop, each bagel comes out to just $1.20.

"They're about 30 to 50 cents cheaper than buying them individually. Just drop your orders here from now on. My uncle will help place them; they'll be delivered to the school gate the next morning, and I'll just run downstairs to pick them up.

"I'm not making any money off this. I just want to help everyone save some."

He even finished the message with a cute cat sticker.

The group chat stayed silent for a few seconds before our class representative replied, "Really? That's such a good deal! Connor used to charge me eight dollars for a bowl of oatmeal. I thought that was just what it cost."

Madeline Zeller quickly chimed in, "No wonder Connor was always so eager to pick up breakfast for everyone. Turns out there was money to be made after all!"