Hi, it’s me, Alessandra. You can call me Sanny, though—wait, don’t think that’s because we’re close or anything, I just don’t want to hear you butcher the rolling R in my name, that’s all.
Anyhow, I guess you're wondering why you're here, how did we even meet? You know I’m just a high school senior, right? I know, impressive, but stay with me, I’m trying to uncover the truth about these strange occurrences, these strange coincidences happening in my hometown of East Valley.
Actually, let's take a step back for a moment and level set a few things. First of all, you ever wonder why it feels like the elite class never ages, why no matter how hard you work, no matter how “lucky" you get, you seemingly can't reach the levels of what you see in the media? I would think that alone would spawn questions about things—about how, and who, and why, and when. But evidently, when you ask those questions, you are faced with resistance, with lies, with attacks… lucky for me, that's my favorite flavor of admiration.
Seriously, no wonder these mysteries haven’t been uncovered yet, haven’t been given their 15 minutes of fame. Every time you poke around, you get framed or canceled or worse… expelled. Gosh, I sound like Hermione Granger, but I'm serious.
I don’t come from much—well, actually, I don’t really come from anything. My mom and I live in the poorest part of town, and I'm one of the “lucky ones” bused into EVR to “show” inclusion from the most prominent public school in the nation.
As you know if you were paying any attention up above, my dad died before I was born, so I don’t know much about him, but I do know his death, and my mom being the absolute legend she is, is what secured me a spot at EVR. And I’ve been taking advantage of that privilege ever since the ripe old age of 9. Come to think of it, it’s a bit strange, isn’t it, that I was picked? Ehhh, whatever, we’ll come back to that. As I was saying, I aced every class, was smarter at every turn—ha, these locals never saw anyone like me, and that's the way I like it.
No, stupid, not my race, not the color of my skin. We’re talking about my economic class, my lack of privilege, and my big ole brain. Stay with me here, this isn't a story about race; it's a story about the capitalist caste system we have lulled ourselves into here in America.
So when I say I am the last person who should be snooping around, asking the tough questions, you know I mean it. But there I go again, too smart for my own good. I can’t just leave these questions in my head unanswered, I can’t just let these oddities persist without justification, I’m just not wired that way. So whether I get expelled, or (hopefully at least) tortured, I will find some of the truths about the underbelly of the American elite class, all the while graduating from one of their elite schools, in the midst of applying to one of their elite institutions; God, the irony of the elitism is not lost on me.
Hopefully, if I’m lucky, I can get a front-row seat to how the sausage is made. To how these people stay in power, to what the operation entails to create the system, and most interestingly of all, why the hell does it feel like there's shit that happens that reality can’t explain?
Now that you know a bit more about what we’re up against, the possible dangers afoot, are you still willing to see this through?
Ya? Ok then, down the rabbit hole we go.
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