We’re All Prey

“Sir, the bags are almost loaded. We can depart whenever you’re ready.”

Our chauffeur, Mr. Park, pulled me out of my thoughts.

I came back to myself and nodded.

“Mr. Park, do college students here really have that much of a problem with people who come from money?”

Mr. Park glanced at me in the rearview mirror and gave me a warm smile.

“Lambridge University has an international reputation. They have students from every kind of background, including plenty from wealthy families. It’s hardly unusual. What brought this on, sir?”

For some reason, that last word grated on me.

I frowned. “I’ve told you a hundred times. Just call me Henry.”

He paused, then smiled and agreed.

I was sent abroad for school when I was young. Over the years, I had won several academic research awards.

Only after I proved I could stand on my own merits did my dad finally agree to let me come home for college.

Before coming back, I was genuinely excited to finally make some close friends at university.

I never expected this.

I pulled out my phone.

As soon as I opened the chat, I saw that there were 99+ unread messages.

[God, what a poser! I cannot.]

[This is so embarrassing. Someone figure out what this poser is majoring in and what his real name is.]

[Will you guys stop? You’re going to scare off my free entertainment. Who am I supposed to laugh at then?]

Seeing the word “poser” plastered all over the screen, I felt my hands begin to tremble.

I scrolled up to the first unread message and realized that “PoserPolice” had gone through my entire social media profile. He had picked apart every post and passed judgment on practically every detail.

[Look at this one: “The second my plane touched down in Zania, I finally felt like I was home.”]

[Anyone want to explain what our resident poser is trying to tell us here? Come on, this one’s easy.]

The replies immediately filled with laughing memes and reaction GIFs.

[I’ll take a shot! One, he wants everyone to know he flew here. Two, saying Zania feels like home is his way of hinting that he is some born-and-raised local with connections.]

[The guy takes one flight and posts an entire photo dump about it. I’m dying!]

[I seriously cannot! Since when is getting on a plane something to brag about?]

[People always show off what they are most insecure about. Just saying.]

[That “feels like home” line is perfect. If anyone calls him out, he can pretend it meant nothing. Smooth move, poser. Gotta hand it to you.]

It was not just the post about my flight. They went through photos of me eating at restaurants, attending academic lectures, etc.

They even zoomed in on reflections in the windows of random photos I had taken and circled tiny details just to make fun of me.

I swallowed my anger and went back to my profile.

This time, I changed my display name to my real name.

[Didn’t you want to know my name and major?]

[I’m Henry Forte, and I major in mechanical engineering.]

[What’s the point of sitting behind a screen making up stories about me? If you have questions, ask them to my face. I’ll answer every one of them myself.]

With that, I left the group chat.

During the drive, I kept thinking about the underground campus clique and PoserPolice.

I could not shake the feeling that the two were connected somehow.

When we arrived on campus, Mr. Park helped me carry my bags and suitcases up to my dorm room.

“Si… Henry, I’ll head back now.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

My three roommates had arrived before me. They greeted me with smiles.

“Whoa, you’re decked out in designer stuff. Not bad!”

“Man, I’m sticking with you from now on.”

Their friendliness finally put me at ease. I smiled for the first time that day.

“Hey, I’m Henry Forte. I hope we get along.”

I handed each of them one of the small welcome gifts I had prepared ahead of time.

However, as soon as they heard my name, the smiles froze on their faces.