Instantly, the cheers and applause rolled through the auditorium like a thunderclap. The host raised a hand to quiet the crowd and continued, "This fundraising drive has been an extraordinary success! Of course, it's all thanks to the generosity of our compassionate students and friends. In the end, we raised over 1,000,000 dollars, and every cent of it will go directly to students in impoverished regions—funds that will be used for renovating school buildings and purchasing teaching materials!"
Once again, another round of applause rippled across the room, waves of clapping echoing off the walls. When the noise finally died down, the host pressed his hand to his ear, making sure the crowd was really listening before speaking again. "This time around, more than 12,000 people donated. Among them were over three hundred individuals who each gave at least 1,000 dollars, and—get this—twenty-three people donated more than 10,000 dollars each! Naturally, some gave more and some gave less, but every act of kindness matters. Each and every donor deserves our heartfelt recognition—so please join me in applauding all of these generous people!"
Another roar of applause erupted—a quaking, howling wave of clapping that drowned out everything else for several seconds. When the last echoes faded, the hall buzzed with excited chatter as friends and classmates traded impressions.
"Whoa, there are people who donated more than 10,000 dollars? Holy crap, that's insane," one student remarked, his voice carrying across the row.
"Yeah," his friend replied with a chuckle. "Twenty-three of them! Our school is crawling with rich kids."
"How much did you give?" another kid asked, nudging his friend in the ribs.
"I—ugh—I only donated ten dollars," the first boy admitted, face reddening. "Embarrassing, right?"
"Hey, don't sweat it. Even if you were lumped in with one of those twenty-three big spenders, the average donation would still be over 5,000 dollars per person. That's pretty impressive," a friend replied readily, offering a protective elbow nudge.
"Shut up," the first boy mumbled, both annoyed and a little relieved.
Most of these conversations were among the guys, trading stories and amounts, sizing each other up. Nearby, a group of girls was having a very different conversation—one focused less on bragging rights and more on curiosity about those top donors.
"I'm really curious about what kind of person would donate more than 10,000 dollars," one girl whispered excitedly. "I want to see what they look like—how old they are, if they're cute or not."
"Why does it matter if they're cute?" another girl asked with a teasing laugh. "Anyone who can give that much money must be wealthy. Do you really expect a rich kid like that to notice you? Ha!"
"Come on, I just want to see," the first girl shot back, a hopeful grin tugging at her lips. "Besides, if they care that much about those mountain-area kids, maybe they'll have compassion for me too."
"Ha!" her friend laughed.
The murmur of voices rose and fell around them, some teasing, some observing, but all buzzing. Then, the host stepped back to the microphone, ready to resume announcing names.
"Now, on behalf of all the teachers and students in those mountain-area schools, I'd like to give special thanks to the more than three hundred kindhearted donors who each contributed at least 1,000 dollars. Their names are… Preston Alexander Whitcombe, Zara Mitchell, DeShawn Malik Thompson…"
One by one, a long list of names flowed from the host's lips. Whenever someone in the audience heard their own name, they'd glance up, and their friends would lean in, sharing looks of pride and envy.
"…Tanner Caldwell…"
Suddenly, the host pronounced Tanner Caldwell's name. Indeed, Tanner had donated 1,000 dollars. But naturally, he hadn't done it out of any real selfless impulse—he'd simply wanted that official donation certificate with his name on it. Tanner was an arrogant, spoiled rich kid, but he wasn't stupid. He understood the value of buying a reputation. Besides, to him, 1,000 dollars was pocket change.
"Babe, you're amazing! They just called your name!" Sylvia exclaimed, nearly bouncing out of her seat as she grabbed Tanner and shook him in excitement, as if afraid no one would catch the news. Her grin practically stretched from ear to ear.
As if on cue, Sylvia then turned to Jasmine—who was seated nearby—and asked pointedly, "Jasmine, how much did you donate?"
"Huh? I didn't donate anything," Jasmine admitted, looking down for a moment. "I walked past the donation table earlier and wanted to give something, but I had no cash on me, so I didn't."
Sylvia didn't bother to ask about Grayson; it was obvious he couldn't afford to give anything. After all, the host had just finished reading the entire list of people who gave at least 1,000 dollars, and Grayson's name had never been mentioned.
"Heh," Sylvia said, propping herself against Tanner triumphantly. "Let me tell you, the mark of a truly admirable person is a generous heart. Only those who give freely deserve to be admired and respected. If all you care about is wearing fancy clothes to draw attention, that's just shallow. The wealthier you are, the more you should give back to society. Look at my Tanner—he could've easily spent over 1,000 dollars on a Véra Calisé outfit, but instead he donated it to children in need. That is true beauty! You can wear all the designer clothes you want, but if you don't give a single cent, do you even have a conscience?"
Jasmine felt the words settle like a stone in her chest. She frowned, but she had no real comeback. She remembered a time when Sylvia had been friendly—so why was she acting this way now?
"Grayson," Tanner said, turning to Grayson with a mocking grin, "maybe you should hold a fundraising of your own. I might even donate 1,000 dollars to you, haha."
Tanner's eyes flicked toward Jasmine. He had always been jealous whenever someone else caught Jasmine's attention—especially now, since she was looking better than ever in that new outfit. He wanted to humiliate Grayson in front of her and make sure everyone knew he was the "real" rich kid. It was all part of his scheme to woo Jasmine.
Ryder and Finn—Tanner's notorious sycophantic hangers-on—chimed in immediately. Ryder offered, "I'll donate too—hey, Grayson, I'll give you 100 dollars!"
Finn added, "I'll donate—ten loaves of bread!"
Both of them burst into laughter, clearly delighted at their own "wit." A loyal tier of underlings, they thrived on teasing anyone who appeared less fortunate.
"Pfft, 1,000 dollars? That's chump change, Caldwell," Grayson said with a cool smile, leaning back as though he were discussing weather. "Remember that guy 'silentG' in Lexi's livestream? He dropped 10,000 dollars in one go. When you can shell out 10,000, then maybe come talk to me about donating, okay?"
Tanner's face turned beet red. The last time he'd been on Lexi's livestream, that infamous user "silentG" had publicly humiliated him. Tanner was still embarrassed and seething, but powerless to react. The memory stung every time he thought about it. And "silentG" hadn't reappeared online since—probably some brat who'd swiped money or pulled a scam. Next time, Tanner vowed, he'd outdo "silentG" just to restore his own pride.
"Okay, everyone, now let's begin announcing the names of those who donated 10,000 dollars or more!" the host said as soon as Tanner's outburst slipped into silence.
The applause that followed was deafening—louder than anything yet. Clearly, the audience was eager to learn who these top donors were.
"...They are Kai Nova, Jude Marlowe, Isla Juniper Renard…" the host rapped off names in quick succession. Twenty names tumbled from his lips, one after another, until he finally set the microphone aside.
"Wait—why did it stop? Weren't there supposed to be twenty-three people?" someone shouted from near the back.
"Yeah, what about the other three?" another voice demanded. "Host, hurry up and read the rest! We want to know who the last three are!"
The hall erupted into restless chatter once more, the crowd leaning forward, craning to see the stage. People were on their feet, some standing on chairs, all pressing for more information.
"Sylvia, can you believe this? I'm so curious!" one girl whooped, jumping up and down with excitement.
Sylvia—still riding the high of Tanner's earlier recognition—joined in, pumping her fist in the air. "Come on, read them already!"
The host tapped the mic, a satisfied grin spreading across his face at the audience's fervor. "Please, everyone, be patient. I haven't read the final three names yet because they're our top three donors. I want to acknowledge them individually and give each one a proper thank-you."
Over a hundred voices erupted in cheers. "Yes! Thank you!" "Tell us who it is!" "Come on!"
The energy in the room was electric. The second someone shouted, "Number three, number three!" the host held up a finger to signal calm, but his own excitement was evident in his wide smile.
"Alright, third place donated 50,000 dollars! It's Zane Cruz! Please welcome Zane Cruz to the stage!"
Audible gasps and whistles echoed around the hall. Everyone craned their necks to see who Zane Cruz was. When he finally appeared, he walked out confidently: a medium-height boy with kind, trustworthy features—his expression calm, almost gentle in contrast to the rowdy applause.
"Whoa, he's so handsome!" a group of girls squealed, their eyes shining. "I want to talk to him after!"
"He's not that special," a more level-headed girl countered, folding her arms in mild amusement. "He looks pretty average to me."
"Whatever. Money makes anyone look good. Let's get his number later!" the first girl declared, practically bouncing in her seat.
As the applause continued, it was clear that everyone was eager for more. "Give us the next one! Who's next?" someone shouted.
"Second place, donated 60,000 dollars!" the host declared after a dramatic pause. "She is Clara Odette Sinclair! Please welcome Clara Odette Sinclair to the stage!"
The response was even louder—people whooped, whistles punctuated the frenzy, and the crowd surged forward, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the second-place donor. The applause became almost deafening as Clara emerged: a girl chewing gum with effortless attitude, sporting ripped jeans and five or six colorful wristbands on her arm. Her style was edgy, a metal-hip-hop aesthetic that immediately commanded attention.
"Clara Odette Sinclair, we love you!" her friends cried, a small cadre of girls in matching streetwear standing front and center.
She raised an arm and flashed a confident hand gesture. The hall roared again, a tidal wave of cheering that nearly drowned out everything else.
Sylvia leaned close to Jasmine, wrapping an arm around Tanner's waist as she whispered, "Look at them—real people with real money. Jasmine, if you could bag a boyfriend like Zane Cruz, now that'd be something. Too bad he'd never look at someone like you."
But her words were lost in the deafening shouts, the crowd's excitement far louder than her voice.
"First place, quick—tell us who's in first place!" another call went up. Dozens of girls jumped onto chairs, trying to get a better vantage point. Third place was a reliably handsome boy; second place was a confident, edgy girl. Now everyone was on the edge of their seats, desperate to know who had claimed the top spot.
"Quiet, please," the host appealed, raising his voice above the din and motioning for attention. The buzz of conversation dimmed, but the residual excitement made the entire room hum like electricity.
"In first place… donating 80,000 dollars!" The words sent another collective gasp through the audience.
"Holy shit, 80,000 dollars!"
"That's amazing!"
"Who is it?! Tell us!"
A roar of cries erupted: "Read the name! We want to know who it is!"
And so the room fell into a tense hush, every eye fixed on the stage. All were left waiting for the host to reveal the identity of the top donor—whoever had given 80,000 dollars in a single, powerful act of generosity. The applause and cheers had subsided to a quiet hum, but the anticipation in the air was palpable. Every student, teacher, and guest leaned forward, brimming with curiosity, keen to witness that crowning moment when the final name would be spoken—and to see the face that matched such an extraordinary gift.