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1
Vera
Before I left for college, I thought I had a pretty decent understanding of what it would be like to grow up as a rich kid.
I imagined getting tons of new clothes for the school year, spending an entire week picking out pieces from the most exclusive, elite brands. I thought it would involve a lot of horseback riding, winter getaways, and a sense of deep, impenetrable stability.
It turns out I was right, but there’s a hell of a lot I missed that went along with that.
“Vera never told us what she did over the summer!” Angelique shouts from the front of the crowd as she attempts to snap a photo of the Ferris wheel.
My stomach twists itself into a series of knots that I know I’ll be working at untangling long after I get home.
Too many questions. Too much information about me that I’d hate for other people to know.
Well, not just other people.Thesepeople, specifically.
“Yeah, well, I feel like I’d be doing you a favor by sparing you the details,” I say with a nervous laugh. “It’s nothing worth talking about, really.”
Angelique turns to me, putting her phone away for the first time since we arrived on the fairgrounds three hours ago. I didn’t even know people went to the State fair to do more than a quick walk-around, but my friends are determined to get the perfect group photo during the sunset.
“Come on, I hate how we keep talking about our internships and everything when we don’t know what you were up to. It makes me feel guilty,” she replies, batting her excessively long false lashes at me.
I hate it when Angelique does this. SheknowsI didn’t have an internship at my rich uncle’s accounting firm. SheknowsI had to go home and work to cover my dorm costs.
But I’m trying to make new friends this year, so I need to learn how to navigate these advances.
Before I can reply, Eric runs up behind me and pinches my side.
I yelp as my whole body tenses from the unwelcome startle. I can hear him snickering right behind me, and I’m too nervous to look back and see if he’s laughing at me or with me.
“Please? We’re trying to get to know you better, Vera,” Tiffany chimes in, barely attempting to conceal the guilting tone in her voice.
The knots in my stomach continue to writhe and twist until Eric pinches me again.
I stop in my tracks, closing my eyes as I focus all of my willpower against the urge to strangle him.
With a deep breath, I let the impulse go.
“I worked at a coffee shop near my parents’ house. It was only for a few months. I took June off to recharge,” I reply. I’ve chosen my words as carefully as possible in order to avoid more questions, but I know better than to expect them to lose interest.
They’re fascinated by poor people.
The poors,they call them.
“Damn, that fucking sucks,” Eric remarks, his intent once again lost in his voice. Everything he does and says feels like an act that he can fall back on when someone tries to hold him accountable.
“I mean, it wasn’t so bad. I got free coffee, and the tips were good,” I reply, trying my best not to sound defensive.
I worked harder at that job than I ever did for my classes, and school is the closest thing any of these guys have been to experiencing true exhaustion.
Playing it down feels like the wrong thing to do. My dad always tells me that having my work ethic and diligence will get me further in life than money will, but he’s been proven wrong on several occasions since I’ve gotten to college.
I’ve seen people graduate from this school with honors after showing up to class drunk from the night beforeon a Wednesday.I’ve seen those same people get hired immediately at their father’s law office two weeks later after they arrive home from their vacation in Greece.
Work ethic doesn’t measure up to just simply being rich.
“I could never live with my family after high school. I value my independence too much,” says Cassidy, who has been living in a penthouse on her parents’ dime since the day she left home. Her idea of independence is being the only one driving the Benz she was gifted for her birthday.
