by Tara Brown
“Harsh.”
“Way harsh.”
He smiles at me, but I furrow my brow in disgust. He looks offended and puts his arms up defensively. I almost laugh, but keep my brain focused on the girl who got dumped. Gross.
“So, where you from anyway?”
“Near here. Just in Plattsburgh. Close enough, anyway. So your dad is a French prof? I'm actually bilingual. I took French immersion. I guess he'll be one of my teachers.”
“Next year. He teaches second-year linguistics. Sometimes German or Spanish or Russian or French.”
“He is my hero. He speaks all of that?” I ask and then glance again at the dark-haired guy showing off for me. He leans in and takes a shot when he sees I'm watching. His butt wiggles slightly. I laugh and feel the heat in my face. He looks back and shoots, but maintains eye contact. I roll my eyes at him and look down into my float.
“Yeah, he's like all about languages and history. Boring. Anyway, you going to the big tent party tomorrow?” she asks. Luckily, she is texting and not paying attention to the fact that I'm flirting with danger.
“Yeah. I think so.” I clear my throat and decide to just ask the question that will determine whether we will have a friendship or not. “You pledging any houses?”
She shakes her head and looks up from her phone. “No. Those girls become PTA moms and crap. Parents To Avoid. No, Stepford has never really been my thing.”
I can't help but laugh; she looks Stepford. “Me either. I did some studies, and most of the time they end up with lower grades and comprehension levels. I want to work for the United Nations as a linguist. I am competing against nations with better schooling and smarter kids. No TV or texting or Xbox.”
She puts her glass in the air and grins from ear to ear. “To the loser nerd girls, who will never be accepted and never be the toss-around girl in a frat.”
I clank my glass and try not to notice the boy vying desperately for my attention.
“Wanna go?” She looks around at the pub starting to fill up. She is probably as nervous as I am.
“Yeah, I should go set up. I'm praying Willow brought my crap from the car.”
She sighs. “Really? Willow?”
“Yeah, and I'm not allowed to call her Mom.”
“Wow, dude, she's probably in a frat house right now.”
I laugh. It isn’t bitter or angry. “If you knew who you were talking about, you would laugh. She is clueless. Has no idea she's hot. None. She is a complete moron when it comes to guys. She does meditations and eats leafy greens and presses on people's stomachs to help them straighten out their organs’ placement inside of them. She doesn’t do social graces. She doesn’t believe in sex. She gardens.”
Her jaw drops. “She looks like that and doesn’t have sex?”
I nod, raising my eyebrows. “She follows the six poses from the Fountain of Youth. It's a Buddhist yoga practice. She channels her sexual energy.”
“Okay, you're screwing with me.” She leans in on her elbows. Her dark-brown eyes sparkle with curiosity and sarcasm.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“You know, it's not like we need to have sex. We could do the poses too. So we don’t get urges to . . . you know. I don’t want you getting urges in our room and letting the dark-haired guy at the pool table come over and help you out with them.” Her dark eyes glint, and I laugh at her.
“Totally not my type. Mock all you like, but she'll probably live to be a thousand.” I shake my head.
She nods. “She looks like she's already off to a good start. You don’t seem to be much like her though.”
I shake my head and try not to be offended. “I'm not. I don’t want to live forever, and besides, urges are normal. Poses are not.”
She makes a face. “No urges in the room.”
I laugh again. “I don’t really think I'll get urges here anyway. I see the guys here and can't help but think that they’ve already been around the block. Our beds have probably all seen more action than ones in a brothel. Let's be real. I'm not losing my virginity in a dorm room. Gross and cliché.” In my excited rant, I failed to notice how pale her face had gotten. Her glint was gone. She was trying to tell me something with her eyes. Feverish heat covered my body as a deep voice cut into the tense air.
“So, I was going to see if you wanted a drink, but I can see my efforts and my dollars would be wasted. Celibate college girls seem to be big this year.”
I don’t turn my head. I don’t need to. I know the hottie with the dark hair and the sparkly blue eyes is standing next to me. The sexy, deep voice mocking me . . . of course it would be him.
I look down and press my lips together. He hits me in the arm. “It was a joke.”
I look at Mona and shake my head.
She shakes her head and looks at him with a grin. “Not funny.”
I look up at him and try not to stare. “Not funny.”
Mona smiles sweetly and looks just like Blair, plotting something. “We were discussing a movie scene about virgins. It was a line from a movie.”
He smirks at her. When he looks back at me, I stare him down. “Yeah, I'm a virgin. I'm not ashamed of it. I'd be more ashamed of myself if I'd done half the things I can imagine you've done.”
He leans on the back of my booth and smiles like he's Prince Charming. “Maybe I like girls who aren’t ashamed of being innocent. Maybe you've misjudged me. You don’t know me.”
My brow knits—tensing from the bullcrap that’s being laid on thick.
“Innocent?” I laugh. “I'm not a nun. I'm just not a whore. I'm also not some bimbo who's going to be passed around by dirty frat boys. Look at you with your charming schoolboy looks and smooth moves. Please—like I'm going to have a drink with someone who has used his best moves on every other girl in the room. Yummy. Nothing like being last in the line up.”
He looks confused. I'm immediately afraid the pass around thing is not true, but I've already gone with it. I've gone too far. His eyes are cold and his schoolboy charms are gone.
“A drink. That’s all I was going to ask. You women's lib chicks are hardcore. But hey, I'm all about pride. Enjoy your date, ladies.” He backs away making a peace symbol and walks back to the pool table.
I look at Mona. She is blushing and trying to stifle a laugh. “That was amazingly humiliating.”
I want to crawl under a rock. “We need to leave. Can we leave now? Like this second?”
She cranes her neck to look over to where he's gone. “He's super hot.”
I throw down ten dollars and walk out. I don’t look back. The giant carrot shoved in my ass prevents me from turning around to see if he and his friends are laughing at me. Thank God it's a big campus.
Outside I feel sick. The air is still muggy, and I'm hot and uncomfortable. I've been feeling sick all day. I thought it was my nerves. My day has sucked, so nerves could very well be the answer.
“He was super hot.”
I want to cry as hopelessness crosses my face. “Oh my God, Mona. He was so hot.”
“You were so mean. That was awesome.”
I shake my head. “No, not awesome. So mean. I don’t know what happened. I panicked. He was hot, and I was such a hag.”
She laughs and nods. “Yeah. Pretty much. You're having a rough first day. Between that and your mom, dude.”
Day one of college is new and embarrassing, and I haven’t even made my bed yet.
Chapter Two
The big tent party isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. It's good clean fun, but not fun fun. The houses seem too tame and the teachers seem to be everywhere. Everyone is too polite and too nice. I imagined it more as seniors with paddles running after a freshman with a sore ass. Hazing isn’t what it used to be. I am grateful.
Three separate groups of girls have offered me sheets, pledges, and clubs. I didn’t bite on any. Instead, I wander and try to get my bearings.
“Rayne? Rayne Phillips?”
I turn
to see a girl with long blonde curly hair and a beautiful face. Her hair is in a side ponytail with a huge yellow flower in it. She doesn’t look like anyone I would hang out with.
“It's me. Michelle. From home. From Plattsburgh.” She smiles wider.
I shake my head. Home was small. I would know a Michelle. Especially one who wears side ponytails.
She takes a step closer, and heat creeps up my face. Michelle used to be Michael and she or he is so pretty and different suddenly. I can't seem to find the words to say hello.
“You must remember me?” she says, almost afraid. I put my arms out and take her in.
“Oh my God, how are you? I didn’t recognize you at all. You look incredible.” It's been fourteen months since we graduated, and she has completely changed in that short time.
She pulls back and blushes. She's so pretty. I can't stop staring.
“So you go here?” I ask. She's wearing the campus shirt.
She has boobs. I'm staring. I'm a moron.
“I do and I just got those.” She sticks her chest out more, almost in my face.
I blush harder and look up to meet her bright-blue eyes. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It's just so different than before. I mean, I always knew, but—”
She puts a long manicured finger on my lips. “Shhhh. It's okay. I know I look different. I just feel like the right me now. No more small towns and small-town people.”
I cover my eyes and shake my head. “I'm being such a dick.” I pull my hands away and smile. “Let's start over. Hi, Michelle. How are you? What did you do this summer?”
She laughs a girly giggle and points at her chest. “I got my surgery this summer. I took the drugs, but they only grew to an A, so I got them bumped to a C.”
I nod. “Okay, never mind. I love them. They're fabulous. Very beautiful.”
She hugs me again. Our chests press against each other, and I am excited for her. Weirded out slightly, but happy.
She whispers in my ear, “I'm so excited you're here. I know someone else. Yay.”
“I know, right? My roomie is awesome, but beyond that, I don’t know anyone.” Awkwardly I sputter, “So which hall are you in?”
She points to the hall in the opposite direction from mine. “The Living and Learning Center. Pride rooms.”
“I'm pretty sure I heard that. I'm glad you have somewhere to stay.” I feel like an asshole. My verbal diarrhea is just nonstop. “You know, so you can be with your people.” My face is on fire. I clamp my mouth with my hands.
Michelle laughs hard. “Oh girl, I missed you. You're always so funny when you get nervous. How's Willow? I'm amazed she let you come here.”
“Good.” I don’t want to let my mouth open for longer than the second it takes to say “good.” I don’t trust my lips.
She links my arm with hers. “Come on. Let's walk. You need to get used to the idea that I have the same parts as you.”
I squeeze her arm and notice her muscles are gone. She feels like a soft girl. “It's remarkable. You're a girl.”
She looks so proud and smirks. “Yup. I got it ALL done.”
I look down. “All?”
She laughs again. “All.”
I stop. “But how, if it sticks out—how does it go in?”
She laughs and bends at the waist. “You're crazy. Everyone else is so fake about it. I love you. I've been on the drug therapy for a long time and working toward this. I've had the Adam’s apple shaved, and been taking the progesterone, and estrogen, and everything. Then I went six months ago and got them to do the surgery where they invert everything. It was a process, let me tell you.”
“Invert?”
She gives me a wide but pretty smile. “Invert.”
“So you have a same—as—me, you know?” The words stumble from my lips.
“Vagina? Yeah. Honey, you are stunned. Have you never heard of this?”
I shake my head, but then a light comes on. “Oh my God, I did. Nip and Tuck. Willow hated the show, because Christian was such a slut. I loved it. Mostly because Christian was so hot.”
She laughs. “Oh, he was. God help me, may I never meet a man like that.”
I laugh. “Me too. She was right. He was a slut.”
“Speaking of slutty hot men, who is that hottie? I guarantee he's trouble. Look at the charm oozing off that man.” I look up to see the dark-haired guy leaning against a lamppost, smiling at me. My face instantly flushes.
“Oh my Christ. He's, um, no one.” If I say it fast enough, it might be true.
Michelle laughs. “That doesn’t look like a no one to me. He wants to say hi to you. I can tell.” I look up at her and frown. She winks. “I'm going to go find my people.”
My already-red face burns hotter. I am confident my skin is melting off. I squeeze her arm. “I'm so sorry. That was an accident. I'm a moron. I'm really happy you're here. Really. I'm your people. You're my people.”
She kisses me on the cheek and laughs. “I know. You're crazy. Say hi to Willow. Come find me in the Pride rooms. Slumber parties and crap. Eek.” She hugs me again and then saunters off, not nearly as drag queen-ish as I would have imagined. She is a girl. She walks like a girl. More than I do. I've never actually seen her this alive. It's a weird but spectacular moment.
The moment is ruined by the hot dark-haired guy standing in front of me. He looks expectantly at me, with a grin I hate immediately.
I wrap my arms around myself and walk through the couples on the sidewalk. I stop a good distance from him. “Following me is pretty creepy.”
He smiles and I have to force myself to focus on not drooling. The dark night does nothing to diminish the dark-blue eyes or sexy smile. He shrugs. “I was just walking when I randomly happened upon you and your friend.”
I look over to where she is turning the corner and shake my head. “Random, huh?”
“I meant what I said before.”
I smile. “Those Women's Lib girls are hardcore, and you're all about pride?”
He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. It's thick and dark and I want to touch it. “No. I meant that I like girls who are proud and not easy.” His smiles turns dangerous. “I like a challenge.”
I take a step back and gulp. “I'm not easy. I'm not easy at all. I'm like expert level hard.” Which is totally true. Willow has actively lobbied for the chastity belt.
He takes a step forward. “I'm not an expert.” Bullcrap. “But I would like to buy you that drink.”
I watch his face and nod after a minute. “Okay, fine. One drink.”
Why am I saying yes?
He puts a hand out for me. “Wyatt.”
“Like Earp?”
He smiles and blushes. “Yeah, like Earp.”
I take his huge hand and let it swallow mine. “Rayne.” His skin is fiery and sparks slightly against mine.
“Like puddles and rubber boots?”
I laugh and try to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let me. He holds it and pulls me along the sidewalk.
My stomach twinges. “No, like R-A-Y-N-E. My mom's a weirdo—well, a hippie.”
He points with his free hand. “You made fun of Wyatt Earp, with a handle like that one?”
I jerk my hand free and watch as he flexes his hand and balls it. “Rayne is nice. It's soft.”
He nudges me with his shoulder. “Unless it's a downpour.”
I cross my arms. “Whatever.”
“You must be a freshman. You pledging?”
I shake my head. “No. It's not for me. Frats are weird. Archaic.”
“I'm in a frat.” Huge shocker there. “It's been the thing that kept me sane these last four years.”
“What's your house GPA?” I mock him with my grin.
“2.89.”
I whistle and nod. “Yeah, exactly the reason I won't join. Lower GPAs and less focus on school. I'm good being a loner in a dorm.”
We turn down a path I haven't walked on befor
e. I look up at him. “Where are we going?”
He points. “There. My house is that way.”
I stop.
He laughs and turns to face me. “I promise, no funny business. We can't drink out in the streets, and you're too young for a bar.”
His eyes seem honest. Something about him makes me feel weird. I stop and back up.
“I have to go. I forgot I was meeting my roomie, Mona.”
He looks hurt. “You can trust me.”
I shake my head. I start to back up on my shaky legs. “I bet you say that to all the girls. Dude, stranger danger. Thanks anyway.” I turn and walk away. What was I thinking almost going for a drink with a stranger? One I insulted, no less.
I don’t go to my place. Instead, I turn to the Living and Learning Center. Gays, Asians, and hardcore Goths file around the rooms and halls. It's like being in the city or a multicultural fair.
It reminds me of San Francisco, Willow's favorite city.
I see a blonde head and push past a group of black kids wearing bright colors. They're laughing and speaking Yoruba. I smile with pride at being able to recognize it. I haven’t heard many of the languages of Nigeria, but I know this one and Hausa. My dream is to know twenty languages.
“Michelle.”
She turns and smiles, but when she sees my face she stops smiling. She grabs my hand and pulls me into a room. It's hers, for sure. James Dean posters and the entire cast of Twilight are all over the wall. Robert Pattinson makes appearances on a few walls. I can't deny his hotness, but his role in Harry Potter was hotter for me.
She looks at my face and shakes her head. “Your eyes.”
I look at her mirror and jump back. “Oh my God, what is that?”
In the mirror my long dark hair and heart-shaped face, which normally stand out, are muted by the bright, glowing color of my eyes. I have gray eyes. They aren’t amazing and colorful. They're plain and gray but against the dark hair and my slightly tanned skin, they usually look okay. Now, instead, they sparkle like gems are inside. I put my fingers up to my face and touch gingerly. “What is that?”
