Campus Scammer Gets Two Boys Fighting Over Her

The midday sun beat down relentlessly on the main gates of Westbrook University.

Tristan, the reigning bad boy of the campus, had his fists twisted tightly into the collar of my shirt. His eyes were bloodshot as he screamed at the reigning campus queen, Serena.

Keep running your mouth and see if I don't punch her lights out! If she calls the cops, the fine is five hundred bucks tops. That's enough for you to buy a whole mountain of snacks!

Serena's hands visibly trembled as she unzipped her designer handbag. She pulled out five crisp hundred dollar bills and shoved them directly into my hand.

"Let him hit you. Keep the cash. I want to see if he actually has the guts to do it."

When that five hundred dollars hit my palm, I was still dangling in the air like a captured kitten.

My name is Harper. I am a sophomore, tragically single since birth, and my bank account rarely sees a balance over fifty dollars.

The physical texture of those five hundred dollar bills was infinitely more thrilling than an underwear model's abs.

Serena stared at the money in my hand and swallowed hard.

"Not enough? Fine, I will add two hundred. But that is my absolute limit. I need the rest of my allowance for junk food."

Tristan's face instantly turned the color of spoiled spinach.

He was the untouchable campus tyrant. The guy who drove a cherry red Ferrari to his morning lectures.

"Are you an actual psychopath, Serena? I am trying to threaten you!"

The veins on the back of Tristan's hands popped. In a fit of absolute rage, he violently shook me back and forth.

My vision blurred into a dizzying mess.

No. I had to earn this money.

I wrapped both of my arms around Tristan's forearm and screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Hit me! Right here in the face! If you don't swing, you're a absolute coward!"

That completely spooked him. Tristan ripped his hands away from my shirt and stumbled three steps backward.

I took the opportunity to throw myself onto the scorching concrete. I clutched my chest and started violently twitching.

"Oh my god! My ribs are completely shattered! I cannot physically stand up unless I am compensated with ten thousand dollars!"

A massive crowd of students immediately formed a tight circle around us. Whispers and pointed fingers rained down on Tristan.

"That is so messed up. A grown guy beating up a girl."

"Seriously. Look at her. She is literally foaming at the mouth."

Hearing that, I quickly swallowed my chewing gum and rolled my eyes back into my skull for dramatic effect.

Tristan couldn't defend himself. His face flushed a brilliant, panicked red.

"I barely touched her! She threw herself on the ground!"

Serena crouched down next to me and poked my shoulder.

"Ten thousand is way out of my budget. I can't afford that. How about you just let him actually beat you up, and I will bump my offer to eight hundred?"

How was the campus beauty queen's brain even more twisted than mine?

Right at that moment, someone aggressively shoved their way through the crowd.

A pair of limited edition Jordans stopped inches from my head.

It was Jaxon, the star athlete of the sports management program, completely infamous for his explosive temper.

"You really think you're tough, Tristan? Picking on someone half your size makes you a man?"

Jaxon pointed an accusing finger at Tristan, radiating absolute righteous justice.

But in his sheer excitement, his foot slipped. That massive size twelve Jordan slammed squarely onto the back of my right hand.

A bloodcurdling scream ripped out of my throat.

Jaxon jumped out of his skin and scrambled backward. He stared in pure horror at my hand, which was rapidly swelling into the shape of a red balloon. He whipped his head around and glared at Tristan.

"You are a monster! You completely broke her bones!"

Tristan let out a hysterical, manic laugh and pointed right back at Jaxon.

"Are you legally blind? You are the one who just stomped on her!"

One word led to another, and the two of them instantly tackled each other to the ground. Ferrari keys and limited edition sneakers flew through the air in a chaotic blur.

Taking advantage of the total anarchy, Serena subtly pinched the five hundred dollars right out of my hand.

"Since you didn't technically take a hit from him, I am reclaiming my investment."

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand, I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her leg.

"Absolutely not! Emotional distress damages! If you don't pay up, I am suing you too!"

The scene spiraled into complete madness.

The campus security guard suddenly appeared on a golf cart, a megaphone blaring loud enough to shake the trees.

"Break it up! Public brawl on university property! All of you, straight to the disciplinary office!"

Thirty minutes later, the four of us were lined up shoulder to shoulder against the wall of the security office.

Dean Higgins gripped his thermos, his mustache twitching with pure irritation.

"Getting into a massive brawl at the front gates on the very first day of the semester! Call your parents! Now!"

Tristan let out a cold scoff, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

"Dad. I got detained on campus. Bring the checkbook and bail me out."

Serena pulled out her phone right on cue.

"Dad. Tristan is causing trouble again. You need to get down here."

My brain immediately caught the massive blind spot.

Why did their tone of voice sound exactly like they were calling the same household?

Half an hour later, a sleek black Rolls Royce pulled up outside the administration building.

A wealthy, heavy set man wearing a tailored suit marched through the double doors.

Tristan pointed straight at Serena and started whining.

"Dad, she tried to steal my VIP parking spot this morning and cursed me out."

Serena grabbed the wealthy man's arm and put on a spectacular crying face.

"Dad, my brother stole my spot and then beat up a random pedestrian to vent his anger."

Case closed. They were step-siblings.

Dean Higgins cleared his throat and looked over at Jaxon and me.

"Where are your guardians?"

Jaxon kept his chin raised high in defiance.

"I don't have any parents. I'm an orphan."

Dean Higgins slammed his hand on the desk.

"You literally filled out 'both parents living' on your registration forms last month! Cut the crap!"

I quietly pulled out my ancient, shatter screen phone.

"My mom guts fish at the seafood market down the street. She is on her way."

The second the words left my mouth, my mother kicked the office door open. She was wearing heavy waterproof rubber overalls completely coated in fish scales, and she was gripping a massive, razor sharp butcher cleaver.

"Who did it! Who dared to lay a hand on my baby girl!"

The air inside the security office turned instantly to ice.

Tristan's dad stumbled a full step backward in sheer terror. But when he looked up and caught a glimpse of my mother's fierce, fiery energy, a weird, fascinated sparkle flashed in his eyes.

Dean Higgins frantically waved his hands.

"Mrs. Harper, please put the weapon down. Let us use our words."

My mom slammed the heavy meat cleaver directly onto the dean's desk. She pointed a stained finger at my swollen, purple hand.

"What happened to her hand? My daughter is on a full ride academic scholarship! How the hell is she supposed to take notes with a broken hand?"

Jaxon guiltily averted his gaze to the ceiling.

Mr. Sinclair waved his hand with the absolute arrogance of a billionaire.

"It is just a matter of money. Spit it out. How much compensation do you want?"

My mother's eyes lit up like casino slot machines. She instantly switched into fish market haggling mode.

"Medical bills, lost wages, and severe emotional distress. Add it all up, it is a flat fifty thousand dollars!"

Mr. Sinclair let out a dry laugh.

"Fifty thousand? Is her hand made of solid gold? Five thousand. Max."

"Forty five thousand! Not a penny less!"

"Ten thousand! Take it or leave it!"

"Deal!"

My mom grabbed Mr. Sinclair's hand and pumped it up and down.

"You are a straightforward guy, boss. You wanna Venmo me or do you have cash on hand?"

Mr. Sinclair totally froze. He clearly had not expected my mom to drop her price that violently, and he suddenly looked like a man who realized he just got scammed.

But as he looked down at my mom's calloused hand gripping his, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a tiny smile.

"I will... use Venmo."

He gritted his teeth and scanned her QR code, but his eyes never left my mother's face.

My mom was entirely oblivious. She was busy counting the zeros on her screen. Once she verified the transfer, she flashed him a brilliant grin.

"You are a good guy, boss. Next time you come to the market, I will give you a major discount on salmon!"

The tips of Mr. Sinclair's ears turned inexplicably red. He cleared his throat.

"Sure."

Jaxon let out a massive sigh of relief, clearly thinking he had dodged a bullet.

My mom slowly turned her head and locked eyes with him.

"Kid. I watched the security footage. You were the one who stomped on her foot. You owe us ten thousand too."

Jaxon desperately patted down his pockets, pulling out two crumpled twenty dollar bills.

"Ma'am, I am totally broke. Can I pay off my debt in physical labor?"

Because Jaxon couldn't cough up the cash, Dean Higgins sentenced him to scrub the men's restrooms for a solid month.

I was walking around campus feeling like a millionaire with my ten thousand dollar payout, heading straight to the dining hall for a feast.

Just as I passed the third floor men's restroom, a foul, eye watering stench hit my nose.

It wasn't a bathroom smell. It was the smell of fermented garlic, ghost peppers, and canned anchovies.

I peeked my head inside.

Jaxon was sitting cross legged on the marble bathroom counter, viciously slurping down a massive container of the spiciest, smelliest seafood pasta on the planet.

Right next to his food was a dripping mop he had just used to clean the toilets.

The visual was just too powerful to ignore.

I quietly pulled out my phone and started recording in stunning 4K.

"Star athlete eats garbage in the campus restroom. I bet this hits the top of the university Reddit page in ten minutes."

Jaxon heard my voice and choked, spraying spicy noodles everywhere.

He frantically scrambled off the counter, wiping his mouth and glaring at me like a cornered animal.

"Harper! Delete that video right now!"

I casually wiggled the phone in the air.

"I will delete it, but it comes at a price. You are buying my lunch at the dining hall for a month. And I want meat. Real meat."

Jaxon ground his teeth together and agreed.

The next day at noon, I sat at a cafeteria table like royalty, waiting for my meal to be served.

Jaxon walked over with a plastic tray and slammed it down in front of me.

I looked down.

Boiled bitter melon, a pile of soggy carrots, wilted cilantro, and a bowl of unpeeled, boiled potatoes.

"You call this meat?"

Jaxon sneered.

"There was a dead caterpillar in the bitter melon. Protein is protein. Eat it or starve."

I was so furious I slammed my fork down, grabbed the tray, and marched straight to the serving station to chew out the lunch lady.

As I stormed up to the glass sneezeguard, I saw Serena standing there. She was holding a tiny leather notebook, actively debating the cafeteria worker.

"Ma'am, this portion of braised pork costs fifteen dollars. There are exactly three pieces of meat in this scoop, and two of them are pure fat. Based on the current wholesale market price of pork belly, your profit margin is sitting at three hundred percent. That is illegal price gouging."

The metal serving spoon in the lunch lady's hand shook violently.

"Listen here, little girl. The university sets the portion rules. I just follow them."

Serena was absolutely relentless.

"Show me the written policy. Pull up the binder. Otherwise, I am calling the state pricing commission to report you for fraud."

I was completely stunned.

Was this the same girl who got chauffeured in a Ferrari and carried a ten thousand dollar bag?

How was she cheaper than me?

The lunch lady finally broke under the pressure. She aggressively scooped up a massive, perfect chunk of lean pork and dumped it onto Serena's plate.

"Fine! Take it! Just get out of my line!"

Serena looked incredibly satisfied. As she walked past me with her prize, she leaned in to share her wisdom.

"When dealing with these stingy servers, you just have to crush them with raw data."

I decided to copy her strategy. I stepped up to the glass and launched a verbal assault at the lunch lady.

"Ma'am, the insect protein levels in this bitter melon are a serious health hazard. It could trigger an allergic reaction. Swap this garbage out for the BBQ ribs."

The lunch lady completely lost her mind. She threw her metal spoon straight into the vat of mashed potatoes.

"I quit! You kids are a nightmare!"

She ripped off her apron and walked out the back door.

The massive line of hungry students groaned in despair.

My brain short circuited. I practically vaulted over the glass counter, grabbed the heavy metal spoon, and yelled to the crowd.

"Don't panic! I got you guys! Step right up!"

I served with absolute integrity.

Massive, overflowing scoops of ribs and chicken. Not a single shake of the spoon.

The students cheered like I was a superhero. The line wrapped completely out the doors of the building.

Just as I was really getting into the rhythm, a middle aged man in a sharp business suit stormed into the kitchen, his face dark with fury.

"Who the hell authorized you to serve food! You emptied an entire tray of ribs in ten minutes! You are bankrupting my dining hall!"

The man aggressively snatched the spoon out of my hand.

I took a good look at his face. Around the eyes, he looked remarkably like Tristan.

"You are the owner of the cafeteria?"

The man scoffed.

"I am Tristan's uncle. Arthur Sinclair. You must be Harper, the little scammer who extorted ten grand out of my older brother."

Crap. I walked right into the lion's den.

Arthur pointed a rigid finger at the exit doors.

"You are blacklisted! You are never eating at any dining hall or restaurant I own ever again!"

I was kicked to the curb, my stomach practically screaming in hunger.

Jaxon stood on the sidewalk, laughing so hard he was gasping for air.

"Karma is real. You got greedy, and now you don't even get the bitter melon."

Refusing to serve me food?

The word "starve" does not exist in my dictionary.

I turned right around and walked straight to an upscale, Michelin star French restaurant just off campus. A restaurant completely owned by Arthur Sinclair. I walked in and applied to be a waitress.

If you won't let me eat your cheap cafeteria food, I will infiltrate your high end establishment and eat you out of business from the inside.

The general manager interviewed me. He saw how fast I moved and hired me on the spot for the dinner shift.

That evening, Arthur brought a massive corporate client into the VIP dining room.

Within twenty minutes, he was throwing an absolute tantrum.

"This Wagyu steak tastes like wet cardboard! Get the chef out here!"

The manager was sweating profusely as he sprinted into the back kitchen.

"The boss's condition is acting up again. He lost his sense of taste due to stress. Everything tastes like ash to him. What are we going to do?"

I immediately volunteered.

"Let me whip up a custom sauce. I guarantee it will wake up his tastebuds."

I grabbed the salt shaker, unscrewed the lid, and dumped half the container directly into the peppercorn demi glace. Then, I grabbed a bottle of pure habanero chili extract and dumped half of it in.

If he couldn't taste this, he might as well cut his tongue out.

I proudly carried the heavily doctored steak into the VIP room.

Arthur aggressively sliced off a piece and shoved it into his mouth.

His face instantly turned paper white. Then beet red. Then a deep, alarming shade of purple.

He violently jumped out of his chair, clutching his throat and frantically looking around.

"Water! Get me water!"

I helpfully handed him an ice cold glass of lemon water. Spiked heavily with white vinegar.

Arthur chugged the entire glass. Tears exploded from his eyes.

The corporate client was terrified.

"Arthur! Are you having a medical emergency?"

Arthur gasped for air, his chest heaving heavily. Suddenly, he threw his head back and burst into hysterical laughter.

"Ha! I can taste it! It's salty! It's sour! My taste is back!"

He lunged forward and grabbed both of my hands in pure gratitude.

"Kid, what on earth did you put in that sauce? It's a miracle cure!"

I awkwardly pulled my hands away.

"I just... added a little extra seasoning."

Arthur waved his hand grandly in the air.

"From this day forward, any meal you eat at this establishment is entirely on the house!"

To show his gratitude, Arthur insisted on making me an honorary VIP of the restaurant. He threw a massive dinner party and forced Tristan and Serena to attend.

When Tristan walked in and saw me standing next to his uncle, his eyes practically bugged out of his skull.

"Uncle Arthur, are you insane? She is a professional scam artist!"

Arthur smacked Tristan right on the back of his head.

"Show some respect! She is practically family now! Call her Auntie Harper!"

Tristan clutched his head, his jaw clamped shut. He refused to speak.

Serena, however, adapted immediately. She grabbed a champagne flute and slid right next to me.

"Auntie Harper. If I come eat here, can I use your family discount?"

I waved my hand like a mob boss.

"I'll get you eighty percent off."

Tristan was so angry he kicked a chair and stormed out.

The next morning, a viral post exploded on the university's anonymous gossip forum.

Exposed: Local Ag-Science Major Sells Her Soul To Cafeteria Boss For Free Meals!

The post painted me as a manipulative, gold digging psycho who would do absolutely anything for a free lunch.

Every single comment was trashing me.

I didn't even need to use my brain to know exactly who posted it.

I hunted down Arthur and managed to sweet talk him into giving me a specific old photograph.

It was a picture of a ten year old Tristan, standing in the backyard butt naked and crying after wetting his bed.

I pixelated the sensitive areas and uploaded it straight to the top of the forum.

Headline: The Dark, Humiliating Childhood Secrets Of Our Ferrari Driving Bad Boy.

The post broke the school servers.

Tristan was sitting in his morning lecture when he saw the post. He literally passed out from sheer rage.

When he regained consciousness, he marched straight to the agricultural greenhouse to hunt me down.

"Harper! I challenge you to a duel!"

I was busy tilling the soil with a heavy metal hoe. I didn't even look up.

"A duel in what? Farming? Because I will destroy you."

Tristan ground his teeth.

"A panhandling contest! Whoever can beg for the most money at the front gates wins. The loser has to get on the campus radio and bark like a dog!"

Begging for money? He was literally stepping into my professional arena.

That weekend, outside the main university gates.

Tristan was wearing artificially distressed designer jeans. He purposefully messed up his hair and placed a cracked ceramic bowl on the sidewalk in front of him.

But his ego was too massive. He couldn't bring himself to say a single word. He just sat there, glaring at people. Nobody gave him a dime.

I, on the other hand, went full method actor.

I wore my mom's old rubber boots. I smeared charcoal dust across my cheeks. I brought a cheap plastic megaphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please have mercy! I have a rare, incurable disease, and my final wish is just to afford one last hot meal!"

I was sobbing, tears streaming down my face. An absolute Oscar winning performance.

Passersby were incredibly moved. Dollar bills kept raining into my bucket.

Suddenly, Serena appeared out of nowhere. She tossed a crisp hundred dollar bill directly into my bucket.

"Honestly, it's a crime you aren't a theater major. Here is a hundred. Teach me how to cry on command like that."

Seeing his own sister commit treason, Tristan furiously kicked his ceramic bowl into the street.

"Serena! Whose side are you even on?!"

Serena crossed her arms, completely unbothered.

"I am on the side of high art, obviously."