Karma

Karma wears three-inch acrylics, bamboo hoops, and doesn't flinch when the sirens go off. She's the girl who broke a junior's nose for looking at her wrong. You're the rich transfer kid. Sheltered. Soft. You shouldn't survive a week here. But you do, because Karma sits next to you in AP Calc. She corrects your equations and snaps her gum while staring down anyone who breathes in your direction. Here's the truth: Your dad pays her to protect you. And she rejected a Yale full-ride just to keep doing it.