Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Christine lets off a dramatic huff and starts changing for bed. “You know this isn’t high school. Not everyone is how they were back home.” And by that, she means cruel.
I try not to let her comment hurt me. “I know it’s not. But it’s all the same. Girls who just want to control you until, eventually, you turn into a spitting image of them. I don’t need to join a sorority to make friends. Sorry.” And I don’t. I’ve never needed a large group of people to make myself feel whole or wanted. I have my small circle, and I’m okay with that. But Christine wants more. In high school, she was much more popular than I was. She never dealt with bullying and mean girls. I always wondered why she even stayed friends with me. Our families were close, so I chalked it up to that. In a different life, we wouldn’t even be on the same axis when it came to the social circle.
“Look, just stick it out. Come to the mixer tomorrow night, and if you still totally hate it, I’ll get off your back. They said it’s the best party that wraps up Greek week. Brittany said anyone who’s anyone comes. The chances of us both meeting a guy is huge!”
Strike two on her selling me. I have no interest in meeting a guy. No interest in being another notch on a college guy’s bedpost and falling for their bullshit. I came to college to get away from the manipulating and promiscuity.
I throw on my flannel pajama pants, grab my laptop off the old built-in desk, and settle onto the bottom bunk. When we moved into our dorm, the first thing we did was turn our beds into bunks to give us more floor space. Christine said it would give us more room for yoga, like I ever did a yoga pose in my life. I just shook my head and agreed, knowing I would use the space for my photography layouts.
“Either way, just promise you’ll come. We’re each other’s wingman remember? I can’t do this without you.”
I chuckle and open up my laptop. “And when I stick to my guns, what will you do then?”
“Well…I’ll cry or beg until you change your mind. Or maybe a boy will. Or a man? We’re in college now. We no longer deal with boys.”
I roll my eyes so hard, it’s gonna take a dozen boys to move our steel bunk bed to help find my eyeballs that just fell behind it. “Just because we’re in college doesn’t mean there aren’t boys here. Hello, they came to college too. Zack Bronsen? He’s here. Along with half the soccer team. Did the douche squad that pranked you and left you and stole your gym clothes automatically turn into men once they hit college?”
The answer is no. They probably turn into bigger douches, with bigger intentions to fuck over girls. They just have a bigger campus to do it on.
“Ugh, you’re right. And fuck Zack Bronsen. I hope he gets herpes and his dick falls off.”
“Who’s to say it hasn’t already?” That boy had his junk in most of the females in our graduating class. I can’t imagine he didn’t pick up something along the way. Actually, I can’t imagine how many things he picked up along the way. I heard the whispers in the halls and read the writing on the bathroom stalls. Zack may have been one of the hottest boys in high school, but that didn’t make him or his dick invincible.
Christine responds with a loud laugh. She grabs her phone and climbs up the makeshift ladder my dad built to get to the top bunk. The bed jiggles, always giving me a quick jolt. It was made with love, as my dad put it, not stability. He also said it’s not meant to hold more than one person on top or bottom, hinting no boys could sleep in ’em. It’s a shame a little wobble didn’t plan on stopping Christine and her college must-do bucket list.
We fall silent for several minutes. I check my email and respond to a message from my parents asking how things are going so far. We’ve only been at school a month, so honestly, there isn’t much to report. Besides getting to know the campus, Christine and I spent our time before classes began sightseeing. We had our parents drive us up a week early so we could take some time getting to know our new surroundings for the next four years. Chicago was a big, scary place compared to our small town in Oklahoma. That’s why Christine and I made a pact our first day of high school. It was our mission to get out of the O-K. And that required kicking ass at school. Our first choice was New York. They had a great art school and business program, but one of us didn’t get accepted. To this day, I swore I also got denied just to save her feelings, but our second choice was Chicago, and thankfully, we both were accepted.