“Poverty sucks,” Fletcher mused, smoothing his sweater. “Anecdotally,” Gillian said wryly. Ronan shot a glance at Adam. Adam, who’d grown up in a trailer; Adam, who even now wore that secondhand tweed vest Gansey’s father had given him years ago; Adam, who had never spared words about the entitled students at the private school he’d worked three jobs to attend.
