"She’s right," the second boy whispered, his eyes scanning the cafeteria like a soldier in a trench. "Last trimester, a scholarship kid from the lower docks tried to push past Marcus Vance in the main corridor because he was late for a chemistry lab. The legacies didn't even touch him. They just... they made a few phone calls. By Friday, the kid’s housing stipend was re-evaluated for an administrative clerical error, and his father lost his commercial transit pass. They broke his whole family over a five-second delay in the hallway."
The sheer, naked terror in his voice was pathetic, but beneath the pity, a dark, hot anger began to simmer in my veins.
"So your solution is to sit there like servants until they decide to let you walk?" I asked, leaning back against the counter, my eyes loc
