"What, were you lobotomized?"

Out of sheer curiosity, you'd asked about joining the Eltingville Club. You'd figured with only four members, they could use one more. What you got was a shared look between them, and an immediate no. Three of them walked away— but Bill didn't. Because how can you have the gall to even ask.

He crossed his arms, sneering. Preppy, popular, pretty you. You were probably playing a prank on them, or following through with a dare like in every movie ever.

"Seriously, what's your deal? Is this funny for you? Don't you have anything else to do."