The night I climbed out the window and ran, I had only one thing in my pocket. It was my brother's discarded old smartphone. The screen was cracked, and the battery would die frequently.

While waiting for my SAT results, I worked in a restaurant, washing dishes. My fingers stayed soaked in water all day until they turned pale and numb.

On the day the scores were released, I sat in an internet cafe. When I read "Score: 1540. Meets application criteria for highly selective colleges", I felt no joy at all. Instead, my throat tightened.

No matter how high my score was, I had no money for tuition and no home to go back to.

One day, my phone received a message from an unknown number. It was a special admission offer from an elite college, with a full tuition waiver. The fees would all be covered, plus a 30-thousand-dollar annual financial aid.

I stared at the screen for a long time before tears rolled down my cheeks. This wasn't an invitation at all—it was a lifeline.

That was why I couldn't understand people like Cecily. We were both standing here only because of the faculty's kindness, yet she treated the people who gave us this chance like enemies. She hurled cruel words at them as if they were knives.

I was running toward the classroom with the breakfast Steven had asked for when the bell rang. My hands shook, gripping the sandwich and the hot milk, afraid I was too slow.

However, when he took them from me, he softly said, "Thanks. I appreciate it."

For a moment, all the hardships I had felt on the way seemed to vanish.

After class, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Steven, offering 500 dollars for another errand. I stared at the numbers and couldn't help laughing. That was more than I made washing dishes in the restaurant for three days.

It felt like I was one step closer to finally being able to finish college in peace.

Before my laughter could fade, a hand shot out and snatched my phone, smashing it to the floor. The cracked screen shattered completely into a spiderweb, like the tiny glimpse of hope I had fought to see was destroyed in an instant.

The sharp crack of the phone hitting the floor cut through the noisy break, and the laughter around us fizzled out.

I snapped my head up, and there Cecily was, standing before me with an icy gaze. Beneath her foot was my cracked phone, and she ground into it as if it were some filthy thing.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Cecily?"

I rushed forward to pick up my phone, but she shoved me hard. I slammed into the desk leg, the pain shooting through my back. I gasped.

Cecily towered over me, a cruel smile curling her lips. "Crazy? You're the crazy one. You're running errands for those rich brats over a few lousy bucks? How can you stoop that low?"

She pointed at the transfer record still showing on my shattered phone and shrieked, "500 dollars got you all happy like this? Don't your parents feel ashamed knowing you're here working like a maid for them?"

Her words struck a chord. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, my voice shaking.

"What's wrong with being an errand runner? I earn my own money, and I don't steal or cheat. I'm a hundred times better than someone like you who lives off their kindness but spits on everyone else."

"Kindness?"

Cecily reacted as if she had heard a joke. Her laugh was sudden, bitter, and almost hysterical, tears pooling in her eyes.

"What kindness? They use their pocket change to parade us around like trophies! You really think these arrogant brats respect you? He just thinks you're easy to order around, a maid he can use!"

She got more and more worked up, reaching out to shove me. I dodged but accidentally crashed into a nearby desk. Books were scattered all over the floor.

"Don't go too far, Cecily!"

I grabbed her fallen books, glaring at her and shouting, "I don't care what you think! I just want to study and earn a living! I don't want to be like you, living in your own bubble while blaming everyone else for your life!"

Her face turned crimson, her gaze screaming anger and reluctance. She parted her lips, wanting to say more, but a voice interrupted her, "What are you guys doing?"

I turned to see the lecturer. He frowned and walked over.

When he saw the shattered phone and scattered books, he turned gloomy. "The class is about to start, and you're causing a scene here? Get back to your seats now!"

Cecily shot me one last furious glare before reluctantly going back to her seat. I knelt and carefully picked up my phone. The screen was completely shattered, and the display underneath was ruined.

I gritted my teeth and shoved it back into my pocket, then returned to my seat and tried to focus on the lesson.

After that, Cecily didn't say another word. I could feel it in the way she looked at me. Underneath the old disgust, there was now a deeper layer of resentment.

…

The last class of the afternoon had just ended when a brand-new smartphone box suddenly landed on my desk. I looked up to see Sonia Harrison, the heiress of the Harrison family real estate empire.

She was usually aloof in class, never spoke more than a few words, and somehow never repeated the same Chanel outfit twice.

"This is for you," she said somewhat coldly, but devoid of her usual arrogance. She crossed her arms and raised her chin slightly. "Didn't you break your phone this morning? I happen to have an extra one."

I froze for a moment and quickly tried to push the box back. "I can't accept this, Ms. Harrison. I—"

"Enough. I don't want to hear any refusals," she interrupted me, her fingers brushing the edge of the box. "And it's not like it's free. I'm going to Roque Fashion Week next week, so I need you to handle my assignments this week. Consider this your payment."

I gripped the box, a mix of shock and joy running through me, and nodded. "Okay, I'll do it. Thank you for the phone."

Sonia raised an eyebrow, and as she returned, the hem of her skirt brushed past the desk, leaving a faint trail of perfume. "Have the assignments ready by tomorrow morning. Make sure the quality is good."

The next morning, I handed the completed assignments to Sonia. She flipped through a couple of pages, and for once, the corner of her mouth twitched into a faint smile. She didn't say anything else and tucked the papers away.

When I came out of the restroom, a sharp, piercing voice stabbed through the hallway. "Someone was just crying over a broken phone yesterday, and now you've got the latest model on the market. What a quick turnaround."

Cecily stood in front of me, arms crossed. Her eyes were like poisoned needles, fixed on the corner of the phone peeking out of my pocket.

I was just about to answer when she suddenly lunged with a mock "Oh!"

Her insulated mug tilted, and boiling water spilled straight onto my arm. The scalding heat shot up my arm. I yelped and jumped back. The sleeve of my uniform was soaked.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" I snapped.

Cecily barely flinched at my burning arm. Instead, she leaned closer and deliberately raised her voice so everyone could hear.

"Oh, Naomi. You receive financial aid, only to turn around and accept gifts from these rich kids. Aren't you afraid of losing your special admission privileges?"

All eyes in the hallway looked at us. I clenched my fists, forced my anger down, and shot back, "This is payment for the work I did for Sonia. I earned it! What gives you the right to interfere?"

"Did you say you earned it?"

She let out a mocking laugh, then shifted her tone, her gaze dark and menacing. "Or maybe you're just using 'work' as an excuse to forget that you're just a poor, low-income student, to forget that your parents are still waiting for you at home."

Her words were stabbing. I jabbed a finger at her nose, my voice trembling, but every word sharp and clear. "Don't bring my parents into this, Cecily! Just because your heart's full of bitterness doesn't mean everyone else's is! Why do you always pick on me?"

I forced her back a step. Her face was drained of color, but she still tried to stand her ground. "I just can't stand you sucking up to them! Using your poor-student status as a stepping stone just makes you more disgusting than the rich kids!"

"Can't stand me?"

I laughed suddenly, the sound dripping with sarcasm. "If you can't stand me, just leave. No one's stopping you. Why don't you enroll in private or top international colleges that you rave so much about?"

I paused, letting my following words hit harder. "Oh, that's right. You score 30 points less than me on the SAT. You'll never reach their cutoffs. So, all you can do is hang around here and get jealous when someone else does better than you.

"Isn't that what this is all about?"

It was like a slap in Cecily's face. Embarrassment, anger, and helplessness flashed interchangeably on her visage.

I could hear the murmurs of the students around us. Cecily's hand holding the mug was veined and tense, but she didn't manage to get a single word out.

Finally, she shot me one last glare and bolted for the door. As she passed Sonia, her steps faltered for a moment, and then she practically ran in a panic.

I watched her retreating figure. The burn on my arm was still sharp, but my eyes were cold. If Cecily kept trying to ruin my chances, she wouldn't get away with it.

…

At lunch, while getting food in the cafeteria, I felt like someone was staring at me from behind. People were holding up their phones and filming me, their shaky lenses making me nervous.

Then, my phone buzzed with a trending Reddit post. The title was scalding to look at.

"Exposing the True Face of the Gold-Digging Poor Student at an Elite College"

The post claimed that I, a scholarship holder, was using the latest smartphone model, ignoring my studies, and only trying to curry favor with the rich kids in my class.

It even suggested that when I applied to this college, I hadn't consulted my parents at all and was likely scheming to change my life by relying on wealthy classmates.

I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling from the chill creeping through me. The line about my parents not knowing touched a sore spot.

Since running away from home, I hadn't dared make a single call. The post was clearly designed to pin the label of a disrespectful, selfish child onto me.

The comments below were even worse.

"Using financial aid to suck up to rich kids is new. What a shame for other low-income students! Isn't studying supposed to be their main task?"

"People like her should lose their special admission privileges. Her intentions aren't even in the right place. She's probably trying to get into some rich kid's bed and try her luck."

"She's even hiding it from her parents. What else could this be but some dirty business? The faculty should investigate this thoroughly."

"Say, do you think she would spend the night with me if I paid her two thousand bucks?"

"That's a little too much. A thousand dollars will do."

…

A shrill voice suddenly cut through the cafeteria. I looked up to see Cecily standing in front of me, arms crossed, her face full of unmasked glee. "Well, well, isn't this our Reddit-famous student?"

She deliberately held her phone up in front of my face, and the screen displayed that viral post. By then, the comment count had topped ten thousand.

"See this? Now the whole campus and even the people outside know exactly what kind of person you are."

She scraped her fingernail across the hateful comments, her tone painfully annoying. "Now, you've become the kind of person everyone hates. Don't you agree?"

I tightened my grip on my cutlery and stayed silent.

Seeing this, Cecily leaned closer and whispered sarcastically, "If I were you, I'd pack up and leave right now. Give it another couple of days—when this post reaches the faculty, you'll not only get expelled but might even lose your scholarship status.

"And when your parents find out what you've been up to here, I bet they wouldn't even let you through the front door."

Her words stabbed straight into my sorest spot. I looked up at her. The triumph in her eyes was overflowing, as if she could already see me expelled and spat on by everyone.

Cecily turned away arrogantly, knocking over my tray as she did. The hot beverage splashed onto my pants, spreading into a dark stain.

She didn't even look back. All she left me was a confident, victorious silhouette, as if the ending of this farce had long been determined in her hand.

I glanced at my soaked pants. My fingers slowly curled, yet a cold smile crept onto my lips.

This would be the last day she smiled. By tomorrow, she would understand just how terrifying public opinion could be when it pushed one to the edge.

The web she so carefully wove would only trap herself in the end.