My Reunion Needed a Reality Check

"Oh my God, our golden girl's sighing. What's wrong? Food not good enough for you?"

Mandy covered her mouth, laughing, her eyes full of mockery.

I sat at the tiny servers' table and ignored her.

My eyes stayed glued to my phone.

"Willow, quit pretending you can't hear us," one of Mandy's friends called. "Dylan was nice enough to get you out of the rain, and you can't even thank him? So ungrateful."

"Seriously. Look at that delivery jacket. Those grease stains are basically baked in. And she reeks like old fryer oil."

"Good thing this room's huge. Anywhere smaller, that smell would kill us."

I looked at them, totally calm.

The guy talking used to be one of our school's student athletes. Back then, he'd practically begged to copy my homework.

Now he stared at me like I was gross.

"I washed this jacket yesterday."

I delivered food to collect real market data for Evermont Resources.

Never thought it'd become their favorite insult.

"You washed it? With the cheapest bar soap you could find?"

Mandy leaned back like being broke was contagious.

"Come on, don't be so mean. Willow works hard delivering food to support herself. Sure, the sun and wind wrecked her skin, but at least she earns honest money."

The whole room cracked up.

"Honest money? Yeah, right."

"Some delivery drivers will do anything for a bigger tip."

"I saw this story about a girl making a late-night delivery. Guess she delivered more than food."

A few guys traded gross looks and laughed.

I frowned.

They weren't even trying to hide how nasty they were.

After someone tried to kidnap me at ten, my parents buried my real identity to keep me safe.

I'd always thought normal people lived simpler, more genuine lives.

'Guess I gave people way too much credit.'

"That's enough." I set my phone down, my voice flat. "I came for dinner. I'll leave when I'm done."

"Dinner?" Mandy sneered. "Wow, you really think you belong here."

She looked me up and down.

"Do you even know who's paying? Dylan. This is the best VIP suite at the Celestine Grand. Minimum spend is eighty-eight hundred bucks. You could deliver food for a year and still not afford one dish."

She got up and walked over.

"Don't tell me you still think you're the school's golden girl. Back then, you acted all untouchable, rejecting every guy who confessed to you."

Her smile sharpened.

"And now? You're stuck at the servers' table like a stray, drooling over our leftovers."

I looked at her jealousy-twisted face.

Honestly, it was almost funny.

Eighty-eight hundred?

The Celestine Grand belonged to Evermont Resources.

My dad used this exact suite to serve janitors afternoon tea.

"Mandy, half your eyelid tape is peeling off."

Figured she'd want to know.