“It is on the backs of the working class that you achieved any kind of fortune and success,” I snapped. “And you’d do well to remember it.”
“Hazel,” Logan said, voice sharp. Another warning.
Let him warn himself to death, I didn’t care. No one should be able to talk about anyone the way this group had been talking about this waitress. About me. About anyone who actually worked for a living.
“Let the girl speak, Logan,” said a new voice. I turned to see Logan’s grandfather standing behind me. A shot of trepidation shot up my spine. “I want to hear her speak in defense of her class.”
Logan’s mouth twisted downward, but he said nothing more.
Fear and anxiety might have coiled inside of me, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from speaking my mind.
“It’s disrespectful to mean the ha
