Cynthia POV

The chilly evening air nipped at my face as I stepped out of the taxi and gazed at the elegant restaurant before me. This was where I was to meet the other girls from the Student Union. I had been here once or twice before, back when I naively believed that being in the same room as these people meant I was somehow included in their world. But I learned quickly that their warm smiles were as fake as the plastic cutlery at a cheap diner.

At ...