Chloe's Game: No More Mr. Nice

y lit aisles and picked out a can of Volt-X, the exact same brand Ethan had given me. Then I went to a cheap accessory kiosk and bought a simple ch

ty table in a corner and sat down with a simple bowl of noodles. I was halfway through my meal

d her nose. "Ew, Sarah, what are you doing over

t you afford anything better than instant nood

me down. She was cultivating an image of a benevolent queen, too gracious to engage

yes on my noodles and spoke direct

ing to let them tal

direct challenge. Sarah' s smile tightened. She was supposed to be the hu

g and theatrical exasperation. "Don' t be mean to Chloe. She' s trying her

ology, placing her firmly

l. "My treat. Let' s go to The Crystal Room. I heard th

m. Sarah had just posted a picture of her and her friends at a lavishly set table in a five-star restaurant, champagne glasses raised. The

thick with tension and the sound of furious typing. When i

done. My brain is

last algorithm? It felt like it

ah was the picture

she said loudly, stretching her arms as if she' d j

ntouchable, a goddess of code. That evening, to cement her image as a generous benef

who had insulted my noodles, discreetly typing a question into a search engine on her phone, her brow furrowed in c

t building a team; she was collecting followers who made her look good. Her generosity was a performance, and her