The Elite
here one day and I’ve managed to alienate the most pop u -
    lar girl in school.
    “Sure I saw him,” Madison said, the words slowly slipping out of her lusciously curved lips as her gaze slowly traveled the length of Casey’s body, taking in the Express tank and Abercrombie skirt. “Drew’s had a thing for slumming every since he lost me.”
    Casey froze, her head coming up like a startled deer, her cheeks growing redder by the second. God, she hated the fact that she blushed when she was embarrassed—it made it so easy for everyone who cared enough to look to know just how she really felt. And what she felt right now was the sting of humiliation.
    “Oh come on, Madison,” Sophie said, coming to her rescue. “Like it or not, she’s a Bram girl now. And as long as she is, she’ll have to look the part. I only have one word for you, girls: Make over.”
    4 1

    J E N N I F E R B A N A S H
    “Totally , ” Phoebe replied, “I mean, with hair and clothes like that, she’ll be eaten alive at Meadowlark.”
    Am I even still here? Casey asked herself, pretending to contemplate her pale knees while wishing the ground underneath her legs would simply open up and swallow her.
    “Phoebe, honey, I’m afraid you’re confused: We’re the only ones who do the eating around here,” Madison clarified with a smile, the sun glinting off the sharp points of her perfectly polished white teeth.
    4 2

    home
    sweat
    home
    Drew walked home through the par k r ubbing his eyes , totally jet- lagged, and still stunned to be back home after almost three months. The tall steel-and-granite buildings and the delis on every corner felt totally surreal—like landing on another planet. He could walk in any store on the block right now and buy what ever he wanted. Being back in the land of modern con ve niences felt strange after being in Eu rope for three months—where they didn’t even believe in ice . But he did miss waking every morning to the slightly muddled and musical sound of Dutch coming through his window.
    Every morning he would lie in bed for a few minutes, his mind already racing as he tried to follow along with the broken bits of conversation he could hear from the streets below while J E N N I F E R B A N A S H
    debating which museum he should visit that afternoon, and whether he should go to Lisbon or Copenhagen the following weekend. Having decided on a plan for the day and maybe one for the weekend, Drew would walk down to his corner café for an industrial- strength espresso and a marzipan- stuffed S of flaky, buttery pastry. If all else failed, he knew he could run away from New York, school—his whole fucked-up life—and go back to being anonymous. Drew sighed, running his hands through his dark, tousled hair (now standing on end from his overzealous application of Bumble & Bumble Sumotech this morning), mentally replaying the scene in the park, the glacial look in Madison’s green eyes when she finally removed her shades. He’d definitely blown it—again.
    Drew ducked into a deli, walked to the back, and pulled a Snapple peach iced tea from the fridge, holding the icy bottle to his forehead for a moment before moving to the counter and throwing down a pocketful of loose change. “Hey!” the Ira ni an guy behind the counter yelled as Drew ambled toward the door. “This no real money!” Fuck . Drew sighed and walked back over to the counter. What was he supposed to do with all these leftover Eu ro pe an coins anyway? Eat them? Throw them in the boat pond at Central Park? The cashier glared at him, shoving the pile of change across the counter with an exasperated grimace. Drew dug in the front pocket of his pants until his fingers closed around two crumpled singles. He pulled them out and slapped them down on the counter. The cashier snatched up the wrinkled bills, glared at Drew, and threw the cash in the drawer.
    4 4

    T H E E L I T E
    When Drew stepped back out into the sunlight, the humidity hit him like a

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