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On the other side is a girl holding an envelope. I don’t recognize her, but she’s wearing one of the T-shirts that identifies her as a recruitment mentor. “Reagan Lake?”

“Yes.”

She gives me a tight, flat, smile. “This is for you.”

“Oh, thanks.” I take the envelope and stare at my name printed across the front. The mentor pauses for a moment before taking a step back. I shut the door and turn.

Janelle’s eyebrows raise. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” I slide my manicured nail under the flap and then pull out the card. It’s printed, already typed.“Dear Recruit,” I read aloud, “We regret to inform you that you have not received a bid during this recruitment season.”

My phone buzzes across the room, but I ignore it, trying to process the words.Have not. Did not. No bid.

The air in my lungs vanishes, knocked out like a vise tightening around my ribcage. Hot tears build in my eyes and blink, grabbing the edge of my elevated bed to steady myself. I read it again and again. Each time, the words confuse me more.

“I did everything right,” I whisper to myself.

My phone chimes. Over and over.

“Uh, Reagan—”

“Not now, Janelle,” I bark, rushing over to my phone. Maybe it’s a mistake. It has to be a mistake. “I need to call Royer.”

“Reagan…”

I ignore her and reach for the phone. The screen is lit up with notifications. My hands are shaking, and the pink plastic case slips through my fingertips. It bounces under the bed, and I drop to my knees. A flash from earlier that day, from the last time I was on my knees, rolls over me.

No. No. No. No. No.

“Reagan!” Janelle shouts down at me. “There’s something you should see.”

She thrusts her phone in my face, and my eyes snap into focus. It’s a video. My stomach plunges, and I wrap an arm around my waist. Janelle presses play and the old video, the one from graduation, starts to run.

“Hey guys! Check this out!” drunk Reagan shouts. My hair is limp and stringy, my original dirty blonde. Still wet from swimming in the pool. “Who am I?” I swish my hips and stick out my tits. “I’m just so perfect. And beautiful. I look down my crooked nose at everyone—especially the girls that I know are really better, prettier and more popular.” I grope my boobs. “My tits are huge, right? Can you tell my Daddy bought them for me over winter break when I said I was in Cancun?” I grab a red party cup and take a sloppy swig. “Oh, and I love to flirt with other girl’s boyfriends, isn’t that right?”

A guy laughs behind the camera and the screen pans over to a shirtless Royer. “Babe, you’re trashed.”

Screen Reagan strolls over to the camera and shoves her face right up close. “Mark my words. When I get to Wittmore, I’m bringing that bitch, Andrea, down. I’m getting into GE, working my way to the top and showing the world exactly how fake and phony she is.”

The video stops and Janelle draws her arm back, but not before I see that it has thousands of shares. My mind spins and my stomach lurches.How? How did this happen?I did everything—

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter.

“Holy shit, girl,” Janelle says. I finally look over at her and her expression is one of concern and pity.

I grab the edge of the bed and lift myself off the floor.

“That motherfucking asshole. He promised me.”

“Promised you what? Who? Royer?”

I shake my head, rage and fear and humiliation washing over me. “I’ll be back,” I say, heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she slides off the bed. It may be the first time she’s moved all day.

I wrench open the door. “Bid Day.”

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