Chapter One - The Cheese Stands Alone
Pine Glen Apartments (no pines, definitely no glen – paragons of positive thinking, these contractors) building C, apartment 201, room B, bed 2. Welcome to my home. Or maybe the land of the pod people, I’m not really sure. I’m still working up the nerve to go in. Today’s the day I move in, fresh off of high school where I took early graduation in the hopes of getting a jump on med school. I know what you’re thinking – crazy, overachiever, geek. Fine, guilty as charged but the fact is that neurologists have a 17-year residency which means by the time I’m actually a doctor I’ll be over twice as old as I am now. So I have to get started, you understand.

I walked up the wooden stairs to the first generic gray door I came to and before I can even knock, it flies open. “Aaaagggh!” I screamed. Yup, screamed. I know you wouldn’t have pegged me for a screamer, and normally you’re right, I’m a very calm person but I have a strong startle reflex. At least I didn’t pee. There’s a reason my nickname in high school was Turtle.

“Oh, hey!” She looked surprised to see me but managed a less dramatic reaction than mine. “You looking for someone?”

“Ah, no,” I stammered, “I, uh, think I live here.” The last part came out as a squeak and the girl leaned out of the doorframe to hear me. That’s another thing I do when I’m nervous – squeak. My mother always said it was endearing, but then, she is my mother.

The girl gave me a quick once over before standing back and ushering me in to a small hallway. “Well okay then.”

“Thanks,” I stepped inside, pushing my sunglasses up on top of my head even though I know the plastic nosepiece is just going to get tangled up in my hair again and I’ll probably have to lose a few strands later getting them out. You’d think I’d know better by now but the little bald patch on the top of my head shows you that I obviously don’t.

“Hi, I’m Trinity.” She smiled, her teeth blindingly white behind her dark red lipstick.

“As in, The Holy?” I blurted. While not a screamer, I am a blurter. It’s probably my worst fault. Well, aside from the weak bladder thing.

“No relation, I’m afraid.” Her smiled disappeared as I vainly searched for a sock to shove in my mouth. No luck, I’m wearing sandals.

“Oh, right,” I blushed and tried not to stare at her long black shorts and tank top accessorized with more buckles than a straight jacket. “Of course not.” Her purple and black-checkered knee-highs were mesmerizing in a Mowgli and Shere Kahn kind of way. She cleared her throat and I snapped my head up. “Sorry, I’m uh…”

“The new girl?” A petite girl with sleek dark brown hair, pink lip gloss and a white t-shirt with glittery red cherries on it came bouncing out of the nearest door. “They called and said you’d be coming today.” Before I could decide who “they” were she had me by the hand and was pulling me out of the hall and into the main room. “Hey everybody,” she screamed at a wall of closed doors, “come on out. The new girl’s here!”

I looked around me, trying not to show the shock I felt. The room is so…bare. And I don’t just mean Spartan decorations. I mean it’s completely empty. That’s right - no couch, no chairs, no tables, no TV. Trinity leaned against a wall and watched me with a smirk playing across her face. “That’s Jill, by the way.” She nodded at the open door where I could already hear an argument ensuing.

“Wow, she’s...” I searched for the right word to describe Jill. “Very shiny,” I finally finished causing Trinity to let out a loud guffaw. In my defense, Jill is the epitome of shiny, just like Trinity isn’t and as you can understand, I’m already a little off my game today.

The commotion settled; Jill dragged another girl out of the room, still dressed in pajamas despite the fact it’s nearly three o’clock, and propped her up against a wall. “Just play nice with the other kids for a minute, okay?” The tall girl pulled her sleeping bag around her tighter and glared down at Jill. A sleeping bag? I had assumed that “room B, bed 2” meant an actual, not metaphorical, bed. “Don’t move,” Jill patted her shoulder before moving on to the next door. “Brooklyn! Come out here!” she yelled and pounded louder.

The door opened, unleashing a flood of loud pop music on the rest of us. I saw Trinity cringe out of the corner of my eye. A flawless heart-shaped face framed by blond waves (or should I say locks?) appeared. Jill and the super model had a quick conversation before the door snapped shut again, thankfully reducing the music back to merely floor thumping. I looked at the walls thinking the pictures must be vibrating too before remembering there are no pictures in this austere place.

As Jill moved on to the third door I shifted uncomfortably back and forth on the worn beige carpet. I mean, I’m still standing in the middle of the room like I this is some demented game of Farmer in the Dell! Strangely no one else seems bothered by the lack of seating. Trinity is still leaning against her wall, watching Jill’s screaming with an increasingly amused expression, while the tall girl is slumped inside her sleeping bag on the floor. I think I even hear snoring. Stepping over the lump, the lithe blond, Brooklyn apparently, joined us, sitting delicately on the floor like a piece of art. She pulled out a small mirror and began retouching her immaculate makeup. I couldn’t help but watch, fascinated, as she outlined her exaggerated pout. Watching her put on her makeup is almost hypnotic, especially since my makeup is generally of the Bonnie Bell variety. I imagine guys are all over her like maggots to popguts. Ok, that was probably a little excessive in the imagery department but I grew up in a tiny agricultural town (that’s brochure-talk for boonie land) in the middle of the Rocky Mountains and, trust me, once you’ve seen a week-old popgut on a baking highway in the mountains the picture stays with you. I can’t help that it chose now to come out.

“Come on, you know you want to say it.” I’d been so absorbed watching Brooklyn that I hadn’t even noticed Trinity sidling up to me.

“What?” I peeled my eyes away from Jill who was pounding so hard on the door I thought her dainty fist would go right through it.

“Come on, didn’t you hear? Her name’s Brooklyn.” Trinity waited for a response as I stared blankly at her. “Seriously? I can practically see it in those beady little eyes.” Beady? That stings. “Come on…Brooklyn…”

“Bridge?” You would have said it too and you know it.

“Aha!” She snorted and I found myself staring at her nose ring, waiting to see if anything would come out of the hole. But nothing did. She laughed harder. “Good work, Chickie. I knew you had it in you.” Chickie? Is that supposed to be short for…chick? What is it with people giving me weird animal nicknames?

“Enough already, Jill!” Brooklyn called. “You know Andie’s never home this time of day!” Temporarily thwarted, Jill backed away from the door, which is saying a lot because Jill is very tenacious. I can tell already.

“Andie’s never home any time of day,” Trinity hissed in my ear. “Just remember that if you answer the phone.”

Before she could elaborate further Jill took charge. “Ok, girls. Everyone sit down and let’s introduce ourselves.” She plopped down on the floor and the other three sat down next to her in a semi-circle in front of me. The cheese stands alone, the cheese stands alone, hi-ho the dairy-o the cheese stands alone!

“Ooh introductions! This is going to rock!” Trinity chortled. My breath caught in my chest. I don’t do well with introductions. I’m Scarlett, nice to meet you. Actually, that’s not my name but it sounded so good in my head. Exotic, don’t you think? But knowing me like you do, or like you will anyhow, then you probably agree it isn’t believable at all. A Scarlett should have dark shiny locks (because perfectly curly hair is always called “locks”), porcelain skin and long-lashed eyes. That, despite many promises by Pantene and Cover Girl, is not me. I have pale skin, excessively freckled, and muddy hair the texture of which can best be described as wrinkly. See what I mean about introductions? Well, what do you think of Carlita? That’s right, trill the “r” a little. Nope, no good. How about Rinna? You’re right, too sci-fi. Harmony? What’s my last name? Moonflower? I don’t think so. Sienna? Sorry, too trendy, not to mention too crayola. Juliette? Ugh, too tragic. Besides, that girl was a terrible listener. Taylor? Too androgynous. Only gorgeous girls who never get mistaken for 14-year-old boys get to use names like that. Yeah, don’t laugh, it happens.

“Please, please Jill – will you start?” Trinity interrupted my mental journey through the alphabet as she clapped her hands a little too enthusiastically.

Jill shot Trinity an annoyed look before turning to me and smiling pertly. “I’m Jillian, but you can call me Jill and this,” she elbowed the mound of sleeping bag that had oozed its way over to the group, “is my twin sister Jacqueline.” Trinity looked at me expectantly and I felt myself blushing again even though I have no idea why. Jill poked her, “Say hi, already!”

Jacqueline raised her head, her short messy hair obscuring her eyes, “Hi. I’m Jac.” I pressed my lips tightly together as Trinity stared.

“Um, nice to meet you Jac,” I fumbled before adding the inevitable, “and Jill.” Seriously, what was I supposed to do? I can’t help it if their mother had a few too many Vicodin before signing the birth certificate.

Trinity roared with laughter, falling face first into the spotty carpet. I noticed the faint outline of what must have been an area rug not too long ago and I wondered where it had gone.

Jill frowned, causing cute little dimples to appear on either side of her mouth. “Oh for pity’s sake. Grow up already.” But Trinity’s laughter was catching and I felt the bubbles rising in my stomach, threatening to erupt. Looking at Jill’s sweet face I knew I shouldn’t but, as you are finding out, I have poor impulse control and a giggle escaped. Jill stared hard at me, almost daring me to say something. Might your last name be Hill? Does your mother live in a shoe? Are you related to any Muffets?

Brooklyn saved me from a fate worse than angering Jill on my first day by announcing loudly, “Hey, I’m Brooklyn. Well, gotta run; I’m late for a date.” Rising to her feet, she glided out of the empty room without so much as a backward glance. The door slamming rattled the windows in their panes as the group started to disperse. Apparently I won’t have to introduce myself after all. I guess that’s one worry I can check off my moving day list!

“Ok, so…” Jill fumbled in her back pocket before handing me an envelope. “Here’s your house key. Don’t lose it; we don’t have a spare.”

“Ok. Anything else I should know?” My stomach tightened into a rock and I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide their shaking.

“Um,” she tapped her shiny lips thoughtfully. “All the food in the kitchen’s labeled. Don’t touch anything that’s not yours. That’s it!” She spun on her heel, swinging her long hair out in a practiced arc. “Sorry, I’d stay and help you settle in and all but I’ve got cheer practice like, oh,” she glanced down at her watch, “now.” Reemerging with a large duffle bag and Jac, who had somehow fallen into a soccer uniform, they too left, the windows again rattling noisily as the door slammed with finality.

Thankfully, the phone ringing stopped the burst of loneliness about to explode in my chest. Trinity, making no move to answer it, just watched me with that same half smile, half sneer. The phone rang again. I looked helplessly around for someone else but they’re all gone. And it rang again. Gingerly, I walked over to the portable phone on the counter in the tiny kitchen and picked it up.

“Hel-” I started but was cut off by an ear-splitting horn going off. I gasped and almost dropped it. Remember what I was telling you about that startle response?

“GOTCHAAAAAA!” a chorus of male voices yelled into the phone. Trinity laughed again, sliding down the wall and wiping a tear from her eye. The voices continued yelling, “Farfegnugen! Volkswagen! Sauerkraut! BMW!” I heard a loud slap and then, “What? They’re still German, right?” A thump and then, “Idiot! Shut up already!” More slapping and some yelling. Really, there is nothing as fun as listening to people you don’t know fight over the telephone. Finally one voice separated itself from the general din, speaking with an obviously fake German accent. “Eef you hever vant to see your zings again then you vill be bringing dinner to C301 tonight.”

“Excuse me?” I stammered.

“No later zen 6 p.m. You understand me? Yes? Ees settled. Goot-bye.” I stared at the dead phone in my hand for a long minute before looking at Trinity.

She sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up at me through smudged eyes. “So what’s the ransom?”

“Ransom?” Is that what happened to Andie?

“Yeah, for our stuff. What do we have to do to get it back?” She pushed up to a sitting position, laughing at my puzzled expression, “You know our couches, beds, tables, pictures and crap?” Waving her hand at the empty room she finished, “What – you think we really live like this?”

I shrugged. “I, uh, didn’t know. I didn’t want to say anything. Maybe you do. I’ve never really done this whole, uh, living on my own thing before.”

“No kidding,” she smirked. “Well, let me guess. It was apartment C301?”

I nodded, “They want dinner. Tonight by six.”

“Ah…” she rubbed her hands together and cackled evilly. “Well, they have just opened the door this time!” She held her hand up to me and I pulled her to her feet. “Those boys will rue the day they messed with C201! Muwahahah!” Grabbing the bag I’d forgotten in the middle of the floor, she started towards Brooklyn’s door. “Come with me, my little chickadee! I’ll tell you all about it while you unpack.”

After watching me carry the last of my boxes up the stairs and dump them on the floor, she flopped dramatically onto a heap of gorgeous blue and green beaded bedding, all that’s left of Brooklyn’s bed apparently. “So here’s the scoop: it’s kind of an ongoing thing. They started it over the summer by stuffing all their junk mail into our mail slot. Which, obviously, is a dumb move since their address is all over it.” She kicked her heavy black boots up on a white pillow sham and I tried not to cringe. “So naturally we retaliated by bringing them a welcome-to-the-neighborhood plate of cookies. That turned their pee neon blue.” She laughed at her own juvenile prank and I smiled wanly. “And then last night we came home to find our house, well, empty.”

“So do you think I’ll have a bed tonight or should I just…um…” I pointed at the neat stack of bed linens on the floor. They still smelled like my mom’s dryer sheets and I felt an unexpected sob rise in my throat.

“Oh we will definitely all be sleeping in beds tonight!” Cackling again, she jumped up. Nobody does maniacal laughter like Trinity. “Come on Chickie and I will show you the ways of a true chef! ” She smacked a lampshade trimmed in blue beads and strutted out of the room. “This day is turning out to be better than I ever could have anticipated!”

………

“What is that smell?” Jill yelled, throwing open the sliding glass doors that led to a balcony so small there wouldn’t be room for a chair, even if we had one, which of course we don’t. “Oh, it so rank!” She burst into the kitchen covering her face with her tanned hand, still gagging.

“It’s dinner, darling! Welcome home!” Trinity held up the casserole dish and smiled like she was in a toothpaste ad. The picture was made even more incongruous by the hot pink apron with white polka dots and string of pearls she had added to her outfit, which she had explained with a perfunctory, “If you’re going to do the whole woman-in-the-kitchen thing then do it up right!”

“Oh, man,” Jac stumbled in. “I’m going to hurl.” She pushed past me to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water with a large black J on the top before escaping back out to the living room.

“And you know how famished Jac always is after soccer!” Jill wrinkled her tiny nose, “So if she won’t eat it, that’s saying something.”

“I didn’t say it was our dinner,” Trinity smirked. “It’s for C301. At their request, of course.”

Jill’s eyes widened and she dropped her hand for a minute revealing a smile of even, white teeth. “Oooh! The ransom! They didn’t seriously ask us to make them dinner?”

“I know!” Trinity screamed, jumping up and down, almost endangering the casserole we’d been working on for the past hour. I pulled it out of her hands trying not to wince. “You’d think they would have at least made us order pizza to their door but no, they want a home cooked meal!”

“They so deserve this.” Jill pursed her lips for moment before continuing, “Can I make dessert?”

“Your specialty?”

“Of course. Brownies a lá Ex Lax.”

Trinity clapped her hands. “Perfect! And Chickie can steal their toilet paper!”

“I can what?” I blurted just as Jill exclaimed “Who?”

“Right. Cindy Lou Who here can ask to use their bathroom and they’ll totally let her because, I mean, look at her – she’s the picture of innocence - and then she can make off with the goods!” Cindy Lou Who? Now really, that was unnecessary, don’t you think?

“That’s so devious!” Jill tried not to smile.

“I know. It’s a gift,” Trinity sighed, playing with her pearls.

Once Jill’s brownies were out of the oven, complete with shavings of chocolate ex-lax, the four of us headed out the door for the stairs. “So what’s in that thing anyhow?” Jac grumbled, her tall, angular body looking decidedly out of place between Jill and Trinity.

“Well, it’s lasagna obviously,” Trinity said.

“Lasagna and…?”

“It’s a family recipe, I can’t reveal my secrets!” We were to the door now, the C301 standing out in tarnished gold against the gray paint.

Jac looked down at me and I whispered, “We found a Tupperware of moldy tuna salad in the back of the fridge and then layered it with sour cream waaay past it’s expiration date. We topped that off with some black beans that were more fuzzy than black. Then we covered the whole mess in lasagna noodles and cheese and baked it at 350 ‘till warm and bubbly.” Somewhere Betty Crocker is rolling over in her grave. Or she would be if she’d ever existed.

“Dude, you guys are sick,” she replied but she was smiling.

Jill knocked on the door as Trinity hissed, “Now just let me do the talking.” The door swung open to reveal a tall muscular guy, mid twenties, with a buzz cut and no shirt on. “All right Kyle, here’s dinner.”

He lunged for our concoction, “Score! Lasagna!”

Trinity jerked it away from him, wisely keeping it out of smell range. “Where’s our stuff?”

Jill craned her neck around Kyle, “Where’d you even put it anyhow?”

Kyle grinned, “That’s our little secret.”

Another guy, this one tall with sideburns and unruly hair, crowded into the doorway. “Dinner’s here! Right on! Come on, what’s the hold up?”

“Stuff first,” Trinity said firmly. “All of it has to be back in our apartment and then you get dinner.”

“Ah, no way! I’m starving!” The second guy reached around Kyle and Jill slapped his hand back.

“Nothing doing, Darrel.” Jill placed her hands on her hips, looking every inch a cheerleader. “And you’d better get everything in the right place too!”

“Man she’s loud for such a little thing!” Darrel sulked as a third roommate appeared. My thoughts exactly, Darrel.

“Come on guys, lets just get their things back in their place,” he ran his hand through his dark hair and smiled charmingly at all of us.

“Ah, Nick,” Trinity sighed, “always the voice of reason.” A collective sigh escaped from Jac and Jill also. I’d like to say that I’m above all the exaggerated exhaling but it’s more like my sigh just got caught in my throat. Though it pains me to use such an obvious cliché, Nick is the epitome of Tall, Dark and Handsome. And, like every hot guy I’ve ever met, his eyes swept right over me without even pausing.

“I just want to be able to put my motorcycle back in the garage.” He stepped around Kyle as I tried not to stare at his gorgeous brown eyes.

“The garage! I should’ve known!” Trinity dumped the steaming lasagna into my hands and started for the stairs. Darrel and Nick jumped out of the doorway in an effort to get there first. Jac dropped the brownies on top of the lasagna and took off after them, her athletic legs soon surpassing the whole group as she hurtled over a railing.

“Well, then,” Jill said elbowing me sharply in the ribs. “I guess we’ll just wait here with the food until we get the all-clear signal.”

“Oh, yeah!” I jumped and Kyle looked at me for the first time. “Can I, uh,” I tried to meet his eyes but his massive arms were too intimidating so I just stared at my feet. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“What for? Use your own bathroom.” He remained solidly in the doorway.

I glanced nervously at Jill who gave a slight shrug. “Please?” I did a little hop. “I really need to use it. It’s an, um, emergency.” Oh, the shame!

Kyle looked uncomfortable and Jill took a step closer, laying her hand on his arm. “We told her to go before we left!” She cocked her head and smiled, “Ah, freshman…what can you do?”

He hesitated for a second and then chuckled a little. “Ok, ok. Just hurry up.”

I slid past him into the entry that was just like ours, grateful for the identical floor plans. There are two bathrooms, one between each set of bedrooms and I need to get the toilet paper from both.

As soon as I entered the living room, I knew our plan had a kink. Two freshman guys were camped in front of an enormous TV playing a very loud video game where the goal was apparently to just shoot whatever came within their sights until it exploded in an eerily life-like spray of blood. They didn’t look up as I crept into the first bathroom but once inside I realized getting the toilet paper would be the easy part – getting it out would be the real trick. I quickly grabbed both rolls and stuffed them under my t-shirt. The second bathroom went equally as well until I prepared to cross the living room to leave. I stuck close to the back wall as I skirted the two boys. I had just passed the sliding glass door to the deck when one of them looked up.

“Hey! Who are you?”

I crossed my arms uncomfortably over the four rolls of toilet paper, vainly trying to squish them smaller. Special Agent Scully. “Who are you?” It was the best I could come up with.

“I’m Roy,” he said running a quick hand over his shining face and staring at me. I tried to move the rolls of toilet paper closer to my armpits, realizing belatedly that I look like a stuff-job gone terrible awry.

Thankfully, the other guy didn’t even look away from the screen as he waved lazily at me. “I’m Matt.”

“Hi Roy. Hi Matt,” I replied as I edged out the door onto the balcony.

Roy barked out a laugh, “You can call him Tex though. Or Hick. Or Hayseed. Whatever.”

Matt paused their game deliberately before looking at me. “Tex is fine with me missy,” he drawled before tipping his cowboy hat.

Working the rolls around to the back of my shirt, I backed up until I hit the railing of the balcony, which wasn’t far. “Oh? You from Texas?” I sounded interested but I couldn’t have cared less. All I want to do is dump my stolen goods before Kyle comes looking for me. I can only hope Jill is still working her magic on him.

“Nah,” he gave me a shy smile, “I’m from Kanab.”

“Wow, I’ve never been to Kanab.” Never even heard of Kanab, truthfully.

“Little cow town out in the middle of nowhere but it’s home, you know?”

Roy fiddled impatiently with his controller. “Ok! Enough about your precious cows! Can we get back to blowing stuff up?”

Tex turned back to the screen and I took the opportunity to hurriedly drop my contraband over the railing. I watched the rolls unfurl and stream gently to the ground like a silent ticker-tape parade, the cardboard tubes bouncing off the hot metal roofs of the cars below. I sighed with relief and turned around just in time to see Tex walking over to me.

“Where are my manners? Can I get you something?”

My throat was parched, both from the heat of the day and nerves, but I shook my head. “Um, no thanks. I’d better get going. I still have to unpack some stuff.”

“All right, missy.” He stuck his hand out formally, “Well thanks for coming over. Right neighborly of you.” Tugging the brim of his hat down over his red face he added, “It’s always nice to have a lady around.” Have I mentioned I’ve never been on a date? Well I’ve never been called a lady before either, except perhaps by the greeter at Wal-Mart and then only in conjunction with “little.”

I felt the heat rise in my own face and I struggled to think of something to say in reply but then over his shoulder, I saw Kyle and Darrel come in holding the “lasagna” and I knew I’d better get out quickly. Shaking his hand hurriedly I hissed, “Don’t eat the brownies.” Not waiting to see his reaction I pushed past him and ran out the front door and down the stairs. Jill was holding the door open for me and I ran in, Trinity setting the deadbolt the second it slammed shut.

“Did you do it?” she barked. Jac and Jill stared at me expectantly, Jill daintily covering her mouth.

I nodded slowly and heaved a sigh of relief as they broke into huge grins. “Yeah, I think I got it all. Both bathrooms.”

“Where is it? What did you do with it?” Trinity arched a black penciled-in eyebrow.

“I ran into Tex and Roy,” I started and was interrupted by a collective gasp from Trinity and Jill. “So I dumped it all over the balcony.”

“No way!” Trinity laughed and all three of them raced to the back window to look down at the parking lot. By the time I caught up with them Jill was laying on our newly recovered sofa and laughing so hard no sound came out. Have you ever seen someone do that? If it weren’t for context you’d easily mistake it for a seizure or the dry heaves. “Good work kid! A double whammy! Not only did we get them with the dinner – you also managed to TP their cars!”

“Those are their cars?” I mean really – what are the chances?

“Yessss,” Jill shrieked. “This is our best prank yet!”

“Good work,” Jac patted me heavily on the shoulder. Just then we heard a scream from above us and Jill jumped off the couch. There was more muffled yelling as we heard loud footsteps racing across the floor.

“Quick,” Trinity yelled. “Lockdown!”

Once we were assured that all the doors and windows were shut and barricaded we settled down to a relaxing dinner of cold cereal. “Here’s to the new girl,” Jill held her glass of orange juice up for a toast.

“Hear hear,” Trinity and Jack clinked their plastic mugs against mine.

………

I’ve never tasted alcohol or tobacco and I don’t drink coffee, tea or even caffeinated soda but I do have one addiction – the Internet. Some days I think instant messaging, e-mail and blogs were invented just for me so naturally I can’t go to bed without first checking in on my pals, both cyber and otherwise. And it really is an addiction. My heart races as the logon screen appears and my fingers clutch the mouse and then – release – I have e-mail! My friends have even told me that my pupils dilate and my breathing becomes stilted. All I can say is that I should’ve been born with a T1 line plugged into my cerebral cortex. So what if it’s after midnight? I have finally got the rest of my things unpacked and my computer set up.

The first message is from my buddy in Japan, Koji Hayakawa, that I met in a chat room when I was 12. Now don’t get any weird ideas here. I’ve never met him in real life and don’t plan to. And judging from our four-year friendship he really is my age, really lives in Tokyo and really shares my passion for music. The next message is from my best friend back home.

Hey crazy girl!
How’s college life? Do you have a hunky older boyfriend yet? We miss you already back here. I can’t believe you really left me! The first day of school I just stared at your old locker waiting for you to come like always. Things are pretty much the same here. I have Olins for Integ. Math 3 – ick! But it’s ok since Chris is in that class too. Maybe I can get some extra “help” with my homework but if not, it’s worth it just to sit behind him every day :P~ Anyhow, I know you are going to die when I tell you this next part but I joined the homecoming committee. Don’t laugh – maybe it will help me get a date this year! I’d better run, our first meeting is starting.
Luvs,
Maura
………

“Okay, what are you doing?” Brooklyn was watching me pensively from her bed where she was already lying down looking more like she was ready for a magazine spread than actual slumber. I chewed my lip and sat down on the end of my bed, embarrassed to look at her. I’ve been standing in front of my closet for over ten minutes now and I still haven’t picked anything out. Tomorrow is the first day of classes for fall quarter and my first day as a college freshman. I know it’s crazy but deep down I really believe if I can just put together the right ensemble it will magically transform me from out-of-place, nerdy high schooler to elegant mysterious co-ed. My wardrobe must have missed the memo though because every item screams Math Geek. “Don’t worry so much,” Brooklyn offered, propping up her pink cheek on a carefully manicured hand. “You’ll be fine tomorrow.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took in her coordinated-but-not-matching pajamas and blond hair all the more gorgeous for being tousled. “Whatever,” I mumbled. “Thanks.” What would you know about this, Barbie?

“You know, I remember my first day. I was so nervous I stayed up all night worrying and then slept through my first class.” She laughed and rolled onto her back. “It seems like it’s been a lot longer than two years. It’ll go by so fast, you don’t even know.”

“Yeah?” I arched an eyebrow and waited. This was the most she’d spoken to me since we’d become roommates a week ago.

“You know,” she started, still staring at the ceiling that was still decorated with some glow-in-the-dark stars from a previous occupant, “if you’re that nervous I could help you pick something out.”

“Really?” I tried to sound cool, indifferent but the relief bubbled over in my voice and I felt my face heating up.

Swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, she sat up. “Sure, but I think I should tell you that it doesn’t really matter what you wear.”

“Whatever.” I scooted over to make room for her on my bed which, covered in the quilt my mother had made me for my twelfth birthday, seemed to only emphasize the differences between us. “If I could look even half as good as you, I know tomorrow would go so much better.” Ok, ok, so I know that isn’t logically true but deep down it just feels true, you know?

“Why?” She sat gracefully down next to me, tucking her long legs underneath her. “Because if you look hot then everything just becomes magically easier?” The sarcasm was evident in her voice.

“Only pretty people can say that,” I shot back. “The world worships at the feet of beauty and the only reason you can’t see that is because they are all worshipping you.” She pursed her lips and I immediately felt sorry. I tried to laugh a little, make it into a joke even though I still thought it was true. Ever since I moved in, it’s been a daily parade of men for Brooklyn although Jill gets her fair share too. I giggled and raised my fist, “If I was gorgeous like you, men would worship me, teachers would fear me and girls would envy me.”

Brooklyn wrinkled her brow and I was annoyed to note that even that was attractive. “That’s what you want, huh? Adoration, fear and envy? Somehow I didn’t really think you were into that kind of thing.”

My face burned again, this time with chagrin. She was right, of course. Why does she get to be beautiful and right? “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m just really nervous. High school wasn’t exactly great for me and this is like, my chance to start new, you know?”

“I know,” she smiled graciously. “And you should take every chance you get.” She walked over to my closet and pulled out a pair of jeans. “Here, put these on.” As I pulled them on, I remembered giggling with Maura in the dressing room at the mall back home as we both got identical pairs. “You know what would look really great with those? This.” She tossed me a cute top of hers that I’d admired the other day.

“Oh, wow! Thanks,” I said, feeling even more sorry now for the harsh things I’d thought about her the past few days.

“No problem.” She sat back on her bed. “Just don’t get makeup on it, ok? The stuff’s impossible to get out.”

Seeing as I don’t even wear makeup - no problem there. “I won’t. Thanks.”

“Can we go to bed now?” Sliding under her covers, she clicked off her lamp. As we both lay in our beds, staring up at the fake luminescent constellations, I heard her roll over. “You want to know the real secret?”

“To life?”

“Ha! I wish I knew that one. No, to beauty.”

“What?” It’s always easier being vulnerable in the dark.

“You’ve got to feel it. And really believe it. If you know you’re beautiful then it won’t matter what you’re wearing, everyone else will think so too.”

I stuck out my tongue even though she couldn’t see me and blew a loud raspberry. “That’s another thing only beautiful people get to say.”

“Whatever. Just listen to me, ok? People are really only watching themselves. They’re so busy worrying about what everyone else is thinking of them that they don’t have time to worry about you! So, you can just save them the work of figuring you out by doing it for them. If you tell them you’re a beautiful person, and believe it, then they’ll just believe you too. They won’t even think about it.” I pondered that in the darkness. Can it really be that easy? I mean Glamour and Cosmo would have us believe there’s at least some makeup and possibly lycra-enhanced undergarments involved… “I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. There has to be some raw material to work with but trust me, you’ve got plenty.”

I grinned. “Goodnight, Barbie.”

“Goodnight, Skipper.”
………

There’s just something about first days. I think it’s all the unknowns. I don’t do well with surprises. I’m kind of a control freak really. Case in point: my first time driving a car on a real road. I had like three months until my driver’s test so my dad took me and my newly acquired learner’s permit out to drive around our block. I came to the first stop sign and popped the clutch, killing the car and lurching weirdly into the intersection. As my bad luck would have it, there were three other cars there and they all had to wait for me. I swear I tried ten times to get that car started again but each time only got worse. By the last time I was crying so hard I couldn’t even remember which pedal was which, much less which order to push them in. Honestly, no one should have to learn how to drive on a stick. And oh yeah, if you are waiting for the happy ending where I learn how to drive, this is what really happened - I threw the keys at my dad and climbed out of the car and walked home. I know, so mature of me but then I never claimed to be.

Anyhow, to add to a long line of bad firsts, (first birthday party – burned my finger, first day of kindergarten – wet my pants, first church dance - wallflower, first state spelling bee – laryngitis) today was starting out in the same vein. When I woke up I had to fight Brooklyn for the bathroom, which was not a pretty sight. Fortunately Andie is still AWOL and Trinity doesn’t take classes before 11 a.m. or I might never have gotten a shower. After that, in my anxiousness not to be late, I was the first one out the door and therefore the first one to discover Chucky. That would be short for upchuck, as in what I almost did when I saw the road-kill raccoon on our doorstep, courtesy of C301. It wasn’t all bad though, he was still encased in a plastic bag so when I stepped on him he only squished a little. None of the girls would touch him so of course I was the one who borrowed the snow shovel from C202 (like we’d have our own) and carried him ceremoniously to the dumpster where Trinity insisted we have a moment of silence for him.

So now that I’ve completed my four-minute mile across campus I get to find a seat in my already darkened biology class. It’s dark because the teacher is using PowerPoint and because it makes it harder for late people, slackers obviously, to find a seat without tripping. Which I do. Of course.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.” I sat down after having tripped my way across half of the third row, the only one with an empty seat.

“…is a highly rigorous class used to filter out the less dedicated among you from our program. Therefore, we will be testing you every two weeks and you have a mandatory lab every Friday. Tests can cover anything from the text, notes, and labs in addition to any material I deem relevant…” Great, the materials list I got obviously forgot to include psychic abilities. “Usually they recommend 2-3 hours of outside studying for every hour spent in class.” The professor paused dramatically, breathing loudly into his microphone. “But for this class I’d say definitely 4-5. Easy.” The kid next to me wrote that down in big block letters in his notebook, underlining the word easy. Then, noticing me glancing at his paper, he turned in his seat blocking my view with his arm and shoulder. Right, pal, like I’m going to need to cheat off of you – you who has to take notes on the recommended homework time allotments. Four hours, ten hours, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to not only pass this class but also get an A. I’m going to be a neurologist, come hell or high water.

“Also, I don’t do “A”s. Study your brains out and you’ll pass. That’s it.” He snapped the lights on and I was surprised to see everyone getting ready to leave. Apparently class is only fifteen minutes on the first day.

“You got the book yet?” Paranoid Boy was talking to me.

“Yeah.” And already read, high-lighted and took notes on the first three chapters. My parents got all my books for me for the first quarter. It was my graduation present. My friends got things like bracelets and camcorders and trips to Europe but I got books and I was thrilled. All summer I’d been looking at them with their thick shiny spines and unblemished covers, occasionally rifling the pages just to get the smell of learning in the air.

“Ah you’re one of the lucky ones. Mine’s still on backorder at the bookstore. I probably won’t get it for months.” His face radiated a strange mixture of cheery disappointment. “Maybe we could, uh, study together?”

“I guess so,” I hedged. Usually I’m loathe to study with other people, they just slow me down.

“What do you think of Paul, huh?” People were filing out now and the row we were on was empty, save us.

“Who?” Could it be he’s one of those people who talks about himself in the third person? I’ve always wanted to meet someone like that.

“Paul. The graduate assistant.” He threw a panicked look over his shoulder.

“He’s a G.A.? How do you know?”

Paranoid Boy gave me a mocking look, “Right, we’re freshman. Like they’d give us a real teacher!” He shuffled his undone tennis shoes on the sticky floor. “And besides, I’ve had him before. The second time I took this class.”

“The second time?” I tried not to look surprised but I was and it showed.

“Yeah, I had Mindy the first time.” His slightly pudgy face took on a dreamy look. “She was really nice.” He threw his backpack over his shoulder, “But I still didn’t pass.”

“I’m sorry?” What do you say to something like that?

“Me too. Now I’m stuck with Paul and he’s a regular sadist.” As if he knew he was being discussed Paul looked up from his notes and panned the room, almost as if he were sniffing for fear.

“I’m sure you’ll pass this time.” I wasn’t sure but I felt like he was looking to me for some kind of hope.

“I’d better. This is my third time and if I don’t pass, I’m done. Then it will be off to cosmetology school for me.”

I was with him until the last part. Cosmetology? I checked out his rumpled jeans, disheveled black hair and plastic glasses. “Huh?”

“Oh my dad will only pay for school if I become a doctor. My mom’s a beautician though and she says she could get me a spot in one of her classes. She says I’ve got a real eye for color.” He smiled proudly and I smiled with him.

“Wow, uh, that’s great. I bet you do.” Now we were the only ones left in the auditorium, Paul apparently having moved on to easier prey in the hallway. “So, I’ll see you around I guess.”

“Yeah?” He said it hopefully, as if it were more than just a figure of speech.
- posted by Charlotte @ 2:10 PM