The corridors of Haversley High always smelled of stale bleach and expensive perfume, the kind that clung to the skin of the elite like it was made for them. Avery hated that smell. It reminded her she didn’t belong. She walked in, hoodie pulled low over her eyes, her worn out sneakers slapping against the polished floors that were never cleaned for her. Her backpack hung off one shoulder; heavy just like every burden she carried. Her eyes darted from face to face. Lip gloss. Fresh lashes. Blonde extensions. Laughter. Perfume. Laughter. Fake laughter. Louder laughter. They didn’t see her. They never did. And she fucking hated them.