Welcome to Litsy!

You�ve heard of these groups � the secretive ones that only the cr�me de la cr�me are invited into, the ones outsiders speculate about for centuries � I�m the second in my family invited to attend, but to them, I�m fresh meat. New blood. New money, too. They think they�ll elbow past me, that I�m here for their amusement, for them to walk all over, they�ll find out soon enough that I�m not. I may look like one of them, with my designer bags and clothes straight from the Parisian runways, but I�m not. I�m here for answers, to take revenge for blood spilled on their centuries-old Persian rugs. I transferred here in search for answers about what happened to my older brother, who hightailed out of here, and my friend who seemingly disappeared into thin air. I certainly wasn�t here for the attention of the star hockey player, regardless of how much he willed my eyes his way. I wasn�t here for his scrutiny or his judgment or to read into his mysterious aura. I was here for the society, because only they held the answers I needed. That was, until I found out that in order to get those answers, I needed to go through him. He�s saying if I want in, I have to play by their rules, follow their lead. It�s a game I�m willing to play. I may be the second person I know of to be invited into their society, but I�ll be the first to make it out intact.