RICH PRICK
1
Everyone knew who Blaise DeVroe was.
It didn’t matter that he’d come to Fallen Crest Academy late in the year—and FCA was not a school you showed up late to.
I knew this because I showed up shortly after this year—my senior year—began, and no one, I repeat no one, knew who I was. Since my parents decided to have a mid-life crisis and tried to make up for some of their wrongs and bring me back to Fallen Crest, my last year of high school had sucked. FCA was filled with rich, stuck-up people. That meant you had to speak their language to be in their groups, and I didn’t. Not because I didn’t have money. My parents were movie producers and directors. We had money, and I previously went to one of the most exclusive private schools in North America, and a stint in a boarding sc
