"Fatima, it's really not necessary," I protested as she half pushed me towards her dorm room, certainty in her expression.

"Yes, it is," she argued back. "Look, today is the Opening Gala. You need to look perfect. Right now, you look as if a monster chased you in your sleep or something. That is not the look we are going for today." She threw open her room door, shoving me inside and following in suit. The door slammed behind her as she looked me up and down, from my now messy hair, the shadows under my eyes, and my bitten nails.

"Don't you also need to look perfect?" I demanded. Why was she fussing about me so much?

"Please. I can get ready in a flash. You, on the other hand," she crinkled up her nose. "You are in desperate need of a makeover. Besides, you spend too much time with those boys anyway. A lady like you can only take so much of those men," she sauntered towards her dresser which was practically exploding with makeup and hair products. A huge mirror, fringed with golden swirls, leaned against the white wall, surrounded by various lotions in all different colors. Glass jars lined the edges of the dresser, each filled with a different thing beauty product; each was almost filled to the top, some accessories even spilling out. Numerous other items were jammed into the dresser drawers-most of them were half open .I gawked at the sight. How could she even afford this? The dresser was jam-packed. My feelings must have shown on my face, because a giggle escaped Fatima's lips.

"You need some more girlfriends, Aisa. Do not worry, I have you covered. Sit down," she ushered, urging me towards the chair. I stumbled and gripped the cushiony chair in the last minute, gently settling into the plush material. I could tell there was no point in arguing with her further. Fatima had made up her mind; she was going to help-ahem, force- me to get ready for the gala, whether I liked it or not.

Fatima clicked her tongue, like a mother disapproving of her child. She studied me again, probably wondering where to start. I had to admit, I was a mess.

"Let's start with your hair, shall we? We can find your dress in the end." She paused for a moment, and then, as if she had a second thought, added hesitantly, "You do own some good dresses, don't you?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I had gotten into the Superiot after all, even though I had really only done well on intelligence.

"Fatima, of course I have some dresses. Ones that I haven't worn before." I didn't mean to, but my voice came out harsher than I expected. At this, her face settled into her earlier mask of calm and confidence- but also a hint of (fearful?) apology.

"Of course you do. I'm sorry. You just spend so much time with Raiker and Zander."

"Raiker?" I asked, confused. I didn't spend that much time with Raiker, did I?

Fatima had started to run a brush through my hair, de-tangling it. It was surprisingly painless. She let out a chuckle.

"You don't even realize it, do you? That just makes it cuter." She smiled, mostly to herself. A brush of annoyance swept over me. Was this some kind of joke?

"What cuter?" I knew I was asking too many questions, but I couldn't let her laugh about me without knowing what the topic was. That's when I felt the pain. I tilted my head slightly to the side and caught a glimpse of her using some sort of heating instrument on my straight, blonde, boring hair, deftly placing an innumerable amount of pins and clips onto it. I could feel them poking into my scalp.

"Oh nothing. You'll figure out soon enough, I hope. Anyway, what do you think?" She asked, gesturing for me to look in the mirror. I did, and couldn't hide my astonishment. She had put my hair up in an elegant braided updo. My hair looked tons softer and smoother, showing no signs of split ends. She was seriously talented.

"Wow Fatima," I said, almost in awe. "First the cut crease, now this."

I could tell she was trying to underplay her work, but noticed a small smile spreading on her lips. I didn't think she got complimented too much, even though she deserved it. The caste system... wasn't fair to people like Fatima. I just wished Zander would understand.

"Now, we need to find you a dress. We can't do your makeup otherwise." I nodded, relieved I at least knew why we were required to find my dress first.

"Let's go to my dorm." I told her, taking one last glance at the hairdo before we left.

***

After much trial and error- mostly Fatima browsing through my closet, pulling out a dress, and throwing it into either the "maybe" or "useless" category (which were just two separate piles on my bed), we finally decided on a dress. A soft, lavender gown that reached my knees, with slight frills at the bottom; not too many for my dislike, or too less for her's. The sleeves were netted, the purple designs on them seemingly swirling down my arms, ending at my wrists. She dabbed on some foundation, applied a layer of concealer over that, covering up the many tiny dark splotches that were left over from my high school years- acne scars- and then added some blush before hurriedly running back to her room to get ready herself. I smiled as the door slammed shut behind Fatima. She really had outdone herself. I walked over to my mirror, eyeing myself from head to toe. For the first time ever, I didn't find myself thinking I looked like a fake, made up, plastic doll in my fancy dress and makeup. I looked like a more beautiful version of myself. Simple yet stunning. I actually felt... pretty.

I don't know how long I stood there, blankly gazing into the mirror, but before I knew it, my door was swinging open again with Fatima behind it. She walked in, her tall heels clicking on the floor, her shimmery golden dress sparkling, highlighting the color of her long, brown hair and her dark eyes. My eyes widened in surprise. When she said she would be ready in a flash, I didn't think she meant it literally.

"You look amazing," I told her. "And thank you so much for your help."

"It really was no problem," she replied, and she sounded genuine. Her warm eyes scanned my room, taking in the mess we had made, from the clothes strewn on the bed to my school books haphazardly placed on my desk. Her eyes lingered for a moment on a small brown book that lay partially open, hidden by all the other trash on my desk. Panic bubbled up inside of me. Had she realized what that was? But before I could think about it any longer, she peeled her eyes away, so quickly I might have been imagining the whole thing.

"We'll clean it up later," she said. "But for now, we need to go. We shouldn't be late."

"Alright," I agreed, and we walked out together, me, for the first time, not completely dreading the upcoming event.

***

Fatima and I emerged from my dorm room, my mind completely preoccupied with thoughts about the opening gala. This was the first time I actually felt like myself while attending one of these events. This was also the first time I was going to be graded on how I acted at one of these events. A quick wave of nervousness washed over me, flooding my already buzzing mind with more thoughts. That was probably the reason I barely heard Fatima run off to the bathroom, despite her saying so. And probably the reason I quickly found my arm unceremoniously connecting with someone else's leg, causing both of us to topple down like dominos.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, getting up briskly and offering my hand to the other person, my mind completely back in the present. Ignoring my outstretched hand, the other person got up, flushing a light pink, shooting glances at the others probably hoping they hadn't noticed the scene. Catching a glimpse of his slicked back blonde hair, it registered in my mind who I had bumped into. Someone I had been hoping to avoid for the entire gala.

Zander.

His stark blue eyes turned back to me, the flush gone from his cheeks, replaced with a cold, almost calculating look.

"I apologize. I will try and be more careful next time," he said formally, hiding all emotions from his voice. His eyes met mine briefly, and with that, he turned on his heel and began to walk towards the staircase. I watched him go blindly for a moment, and then suddenly, as if I had woken up from a dream, I called, "Zander! Wait for a minute, please." I ran to catch up with him, careful not to ruin the intricate work of Fatima's hands.

"What?" He asked, whirling around, and only because I knew him so well, I could tell he was fighting to keep harshness from flooding his tone.

"I, uh," I stammered, struggling for the right words. When was the last time I had stammered like this in front of Zander?

"I'm sorry if I hurt you yesterday. I was only trying to defend Fatima. She is a nice girl, and she does not deserve to be belittled. It wasn't my intention to cause you any pain." I tried to catch his eye, but he was deliberately avoiding mine. I remembered him lounging against the wall in his bedroom, eyes glinting with... pride as he stated, "Aisa, Fatima- she's lesser than us. It's a good thing you've found a friend, but still, do you want to willingly tarnish your reputation by befriending her?" The line echoed my head like the chime of an annoying bell.

"Hurt is not always intentional." His face, one I could always read, was a closed book as he delivered the line.

"Zander, you know I would never hurt you on purpose." I couldn't help but let some astonishment leak into my words. I didn't even yell, or say something to personally offend him. Why was he so mad this time around? I was just trying to stop him from saying rude things about Fatima. She didn't deserve it. Though she had come from an Inferior family, she was actually super talented in the beauty department, and was easy to talk to. After all, she completely did the work on the cut crease.

"Maybe not, but I had been certain you knew me well enough to know what would upset me and what wouldn't. I've always believed I could express all of my opinions to you, without you judging me," he said, his voice cracking slightly. Had Zander been as devastated about what happened yesterday as I did? He finally looked at me properly, eyes widening as he noticed my makeup and hair. "Did you get ready alone?"

I sighed. I'd been hoping to avoid this. "Fatima helped me."

"Of course," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Zander," I said again, as gently as I could, hoping he would understand. "Fatima is my friend, and as much as I respect your opinions, I respect her too. Her background does not make her any less of a person, does it? And it's not as if she doesn't come without her talents." I gestured at myself.

He stared at me for a moment, and spluttered out, "This is all the doing of your new, amazing tour guide, isn't it? He must be completely changing your opinions, given how much time you spend with him."

"I-what?" I asked, dumbfounded. "I'm not changing-" He cut me off.

"Yes, you are, Aisa. You are changing. Do not try and deny it." He paused, probably choosing his next words carefully. I felt as if he had slapped me. "We both have always agreed on the caste system. Fatima comes from a lower family. She is not as educated as we are. I am not belittling her, I am simply stating a fact." Though his voice was calm, I could hear a hint of superiority in his tone. It was the last straw for me. Couldn't he see that Fatima belonged here? Could he seriously not see the makeup she just did on me? Or did he prefer not to care?

"You haven't thought about this at all since last time, have you?" I demanded, ignoring the few glances others were throwing our way. "You said the same thing last time. Do you want to start this all over again?"

He looked at me, long and hard, as if trying to find out how I had changed, why I no longer agreed with him about everything. He took an almost unnoticeable breath, and finally said, "No. I do not want to start this again. I will see you later today." Averting his gaze quickly, he walked over to his other friend without a second thought, the tension immediately leaving his shoulders.

This time, I didn't try to stop him.

A sudden ping cut through my thoughts. I pulled my Receiver out of my purse, my eyes mindlessly scanning my newest message.

"Hey Aisa. Where are you right now? Do you need any help preparing for the gala?"

It was from Raiker. He seemed to be more concerned about me after our conversation, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Zander's words burned in my mind, burning like flames licking the logs of a campfire, eventually reducing everything to ashes.

He must be completely changing your opinions, given how much time you spend with him.

Was he?

Pushing the thought away, I quickly thumbed a reply to him.

"Just talked to Zander. It's alright. Fatima and I are on our way."

"Aisa?" Called Fatima as if on cue, emerging from the bathroom. She glanced at Zander's moving form, the receiver in my hands, and then up at me, raising her eyebrows. "Did something happen?"

I sighed, forcing myself to smile. I couldn't let this event go to waste because of this argument. "No, it's all good."

"Then let's get going. We don't want to be late!"