My Friend, the Fake Rich Kid
The day before the semester began, my childhood friend Daniel Carter asked if he could borrow my private jet.
Thinking he'd finally changed his ways, I agreed without a second thought.
A moment later, he transferred a single dollar, calling it rent because he couldn't stand the thought of freeloading.
The quirky amount said more than words ever could. I smiled and accepted it.
On the first day of school, I kept things low-key, taking a cab back to campus. But when I arrived, there it was, my private jet parked right in the middle of the quad.
The jet had been decked out in bubblegum pink, and students crowded around, their eyes shining with envy.
My heart leapt. For once, I thought Daniel had finally figured it out. Beaming, I braced myself for his surprise.
But as I drew closer, my smile froze. Sitting barefoot in the pilot's seat, my seat, was Clara West, the campus' queen bee.