"Scarlett, did you open my Revista shampoo?" I held up the freshly opened bottle of shampoo, shoving it right under Scarlett Newman's nose, who was busy drying her hair. She stopped and looked at me with a face full of innocence. "I saw it was for repairing damaged hair," she said, shrugging slightly. "My hair's so rough, I thought I'd give it a try. What's the problem?" I took a deep breath, pushing down my irritation, and turned to put the shampoo back in the cabinet. On the first day of university, Scarlett had introduced herself to the class as a poor, countryside girl. Our advisor had kindly urged us to lend her a hand and be more accommodating, so helping her had become a daily routine. But she never seemed satisfied with ordinary things. No, she always wanted the high-end, luxury items, and was constantly asking to borrow them. I placed the bottle back, turned, and looked at her, speaking slowly, one word at a time. "I told you before, you can use those bottles of
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