The next day, the university seemed different. Or maybe I was the one being paranoid.
As I walked to the library at 7:55 a.m., I felt eyes on me. They weren't the usual looks of indifference reserved for scholarship students; they were looks of curiosity, whispers behind cupped hands. The rumor that Valeria Castillo had been with a "nobody" after disappearing all afternoon must have spread through the elite's WhatsApp groups like wildfire.
I entered the library, ignoring the social static. My priority was the report. We had the market data; now we had to turn it into a coherent economic narrative that would impress Dr. Montero.
Valeria was already there.
She arrived on time. That simple fact was a monumental victory. She was sitting at the same table, typing furiously on her ultra-thin laptop. Today she wore a simple-cut white dress that probably cost more than the furniture in my apartment, and her hair was pulled back in a high, aggressive ponytail.
"You're on time," I said, plugging in my old computer across from her.
She didn't even look up.
"Shut up and sit down. I've been transcribing the voice notes I recorded yesterday." She paused and looked at me over the screen. Her eyes didn't have the hostility of the first day, but they were still cold. "That vegetable lady talks way too fast. I had to listen to it three times to understand the slang."
"It's called real economy," I replied, opening my files. "Pass me the data. I'll make the graphs. You write the introduction on price volatility."
We worked in silence for two hours. It was... efficient. Surprisingly efficient. Valeria wasn't stupid; she was lazy and used to the law of least effort, but when cornered, her brain worked with lethal sharpness. She understood market concepts better than she wanted to admit.
At ten, my stomach growled. The 5:00 a.m. instant coffee had vanished from my system hours ago.
"I need coffee," Valeria announced, snapping her laptop shut as if she had read my mind. "And not the trash from the hallway machine. Let's go to the central cafeteria."
"I have work to..."
"If I faint from lack of caffeine, you're writing the rest alone," she cut me off, standing up. "Move your ass, Lucas. I'm buying. And don't you dare say no because of your stupid working-class pride. Consider it an operating expense of the project."
I didn't have the energy to argue. Besides, I was hungry.
We walked to the central cafeteria. It was hostile territory for me; the place where the children of politicians and businessmen gathered to pretend they were studying. Entering there with Valeria was like walking with a royal bodyguard. The crowd parted for her.
We got in line. Valeria ordered an almond milk macchiato with I don't know how many more specifications. I ordered a black coffee and a ham and cheese sandwich.
When we turned to find a table, fate decided to play its cards.
"Lucas?"
Elena's voice sounded to my right, heavy with disbelief bordering on pain.
I turned. Elena was standing by the salad bar, holding a tray. She looked at me, and then she looked at Valeria. Her eyes went from one to the other as if trying to solve an impossible equation.
"Hi, Elena," I said, relaxing my shoulders instinctively. Seeing her was returning to a safe zone. "I didn't see you at the entrance."
Elena took a step forward, completely ignoring Valeria.
"I was calling you. You didn't answer my messages. I thought that..." She stopped, looking at my tray with the expensive cafeteria sandwich, and then at Valeria, who stood beside me with her perfect posture and air of superiority. "I thought you were busy working."
"We are working," Valeria intervened. Her voice was soft, but it had the edge of a razor blade. She took an almost imperceptible step toward me, invading my personal space. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was a gesture of ownership. "We have a deadline, right, Lucas?"
Elena tensed. I saw her knuckles turn white as she gripped the tray. The two of them weren't just strangers; they were natural opposites. Elena was warmth, empathy, and effort. Valeria was ice, selfishness, and privilege.
"Hello, Valeria," Elena said. Her tone was polite, but cold. "I didn't know you hung out with scholarship students outside of mandatory class hours."
Valeria smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.
"Lucas is... useful," Valeria said, looking at me sideways like someone evaluating a racehorse. "Turns out he has a talent for handling difficult situations. Something sorely lacking on this campus."
"Lucas is not a tool," Elena retorted, taking another step. Now they were face to face. The tension crackled in the air. "He is a person. And he is my best friend. So be careful how you speak to him."
I felt a headache forming behind my eyes. The last thing I needed was high school drama in the middle of my workday.
"Girls, enough," I intervened, stepping in between. I looked at Elena. "We're finishing the field analysis from yesterday. It's 40% of the grade, Elena. I can't get distracted."
Elena looked at me, hurt. She expected me to leave Valeria right there and go with her. But I couldn't afford that luxury.
"Sure," Elena said, looking down. "The 40%. I understand."
"Why don't you join us?" The offer left my mouth before I could process it. It was my clumsy attempt to bridge my two worlds.
"No way!" exclaimed Valeria at the same time Elena said, "I don't want to intrude."
Valeria looked at me with disbelief.
"Lucas, this is a two-person project. I don't need a cheerleader. And honestly, I doubt she can contribute anything to the level of analysis we're handling."
It was a low, gratuitous blow. Elena turned red, not from shame, but from contained fury.
"I have better grades than you in Macroeconomics, Valeria," Elena snapped.
"Having good grades and understanding power are two very different things, dear," Valeria replied with rehearsed boredom. "Let's go, Lucas. The coffee gets cold and my patience runs out."
Valeria turned on her heel and walked toward an empty table by the window, assuming I would follow.
I stayed a second with Elena.
"I'm sorry," I told her quietly. "She's unbearable, I know. But I need to finish this."
Elena sighed, her anger deflating to make way for a sad resignation I didn't know how to interpret.
"Be careful, Lucas," she warned me, looking me in the eyes. "She's not like us. She's going to chew you up and spit you out when you're no longer useful. Don't get confused."
"I'm not confused, Elena. It's just work."
"For you, maybe," she murmured, so low I almost didn't hear her.
"What?"
"Nothing. Go. Don't keep the queen waiting."
Elena walked away to a table where other classmates were, but she didn't stop watching me.
I walked to Valeria's table. She was already taking out her papers, acting as if the exchange hadn't happened.
I sat across from her.
"You're a witch," I told her, opening my sandwich.
Valeria looked at me over her coffee. Her eyes shone with something that looked like amusement.
"And you're too soft on irrelevant people," she replied. "That girl adores you as if you were a saint. It's pathetic. She holds you back, Lucas. If you want to rise, you have to cut the dead weight."
"She's not dead weight. She's my family."
"Family is chosen," Valeria said, and for a moment, her voice darkened, perhaps remembering her own absent parents. "And if you choose to surround yourself with people who settle for what they have, you'll never get out of the hole."
"Shut up and eat," I muttered, stabbing my sandwich with the fork. "We have to finish chapter three."
Valeria smiled slightly, a small, victorious smile, and returned to her screen.
As we ate in silence, I felt the two gazes pinned on me. Elena's, loaded with worry and an affection I didn't know how to handle; and Valeria's, loaded with a predatory and calculating interest.
I was in the middle, chewing a sandwich that tasted like nothing to me, wondering at what moment my life had become such a complicated battlefield.
I just wanted to graduate. I just wanted Lili to have her backpack.
But looking at Valeria, who for the first time seemed comfortable in my presence, and Elena, who seemed to have lost something important, I knew things would never be simple again.
The balance was broken.