Sophomore Switch(9)
Author: Abby McDonald

I know all this now, but before fall, I only had a hazy recall of 5th Avenue’s complicated plot — and the audience’s fierce devotion to dear, sweet Shannon. So when I met Tyler hanging out with some friends at a college party and he hit on me hard, I figured they’d split. Anyway, he invited me back to his off-campus apartment for some hot-tub time, and through my alcoholic blur I figured what the hell? He was cute and seemed totally sweet, and there were no cameramen around. Wouldn’t I have to sign some kind of release before they were allowed to put me on TV?

Yup. Naïve and wasted, what a great combination. There were hidden cameras on the deck, and refusing to sign the release only meant the producers blurred out my face when they broadcast the clips — but not when they leaked the footage online.

He may have been a great kisser, but trust me, I would have needed an orgasmic night with screen god Chris Carmel for it to be worth these kind of consequences.

I toss the magazine aside and go get a latte and a cupcake, trying to shake off my blast from the past. One day (soon I hope), the country will get bored of those talentless posers and move on to something way more important, like Brad and Angelina’s rumored split or Jessica’s new diet, but until then? I’m in exile. It seems so stupid when I lay it out like this. Some people can’t go home because they offended the government or risked their lives for justice. I’m banished because of five Jell-O shots and a guy who was way more take than give when it came to . . .

Never mind.

I’m smothering my coffee with cinnamon and nutmeg when an American voice behind makes me turn. “Hey.” A blond guy is hovering near the condiment stand, kind of stocky in an NYU sweater. “Don’t I know you?”

I freeze. No, no, not here. Not so soon. My heart is suddenly speeding as I prepare for the worst.

“Yes, it’s you.” He nods, features smoothing out again. “McKenna’s economics lectures. You sit by the window, right?”

God, the relief that flows through me is nearly more than I can take. I manage to breathe and grip my coffee mug. “Sure,” I force out, waiting for my heart to slow. “That’s me.”

“Cool.” He nods. His eyes slowly drift down my body as he checks me out, and right away I wish I’d thrown on some sweats before I left. I’m still dressed to party, in tight dark jeans and a clinging black jersey top. I take a step back.

“So which college are you at?” Blond Boy’s smile is wider now, showing plenty of teeth.

“Magdalen,” I lie, deciding I don’t want him knowing anything about me.

“I’m at Balliol.” He edges closer. “Oxford’s a trip, right?”

“Totally,” I reply lightly. “Anyway, I’ve got a ton of reading to do.” I force myself to flash him a grin before I grab my coffee and scoot back to my corner. I’ve been avoiding the Americans ever since I arrived. They seem to think sharing a place of birth gives us an automatic bond, but as much as I want friends, I can’t risk them recognizing me.

“Tough reading assignment.” I’m only a few pages into a new romance novel when another seat gets vacated and Blond Boy collapses next to me. He laughs at my book. “I’ve got eight chapters of UN procedures to get done tonight.”

“Oh.” I feel irritation flare. This is my place — my sanctuary.

“The professor’s a complete ass.” Kicking his feet onto the low table, Blond Boy starts to dominate the space: spreading out his notes, pulling his sweater off. I feel invaded. “I interned at the UN last summer, and this guy knows jack about the place, but what can I do? I mean . . .”

He keeps talking awhile as I sip my coffee and try to think of a way out. It’s ironic, I know — I’ve been longing for company all week, then the moment someone actually talks to me, I can’t shut them up fast enough. But he’s not just anyone; barely a minute in, I can tell he’s an obnoxious jock like all the others I left in California. So, with a flash of inspiration, I don’t say a thing. I just reach for my headphones and plug back in, looking back down to my book as if he doesn’t even exist.

And I’m alone again.

6

I’ve never had to share my space. There’s my sister, of course, but we always had separate rooms, and by the time I reached the age where an inalienable right to bathroom time was necessary, she’d already left for her time at Oxford; the pink-tiled sink was mine alone. When it was my turn to go to university, I moved into my box of a room and refitted the lock on the door. I even managed to schedule myself around peak shower hours so I had the communal bathroom to myself.

Now solitude is a thing of the past.

“The blue or the green?” Morgan fishes a couple of skimpy vests from a shopping bag and dangles them in front of the two girls who are sprawled over my bed, flicking listlessly through fashion magazines. Apparently, Natasha had an open-door policy, so now her stereo is thundering with a rock song; the floor is littered with folders, shoes, and accessories, and there’s nothing I can do to hold back the chaos. Despite all my best efforts, Morgan is undeniable — the only concession I’ve won is that she keeps Ryan out of the way while I’m around.

“I like the blue,” says Lexi, a petite blonde with arms no thicker than my wrist.

The other girl, equally skinny with big dark eyes, looks up. “Yeah, it matches that bangle you got last week.”

Morgan lights up. “I didn’t think of that. Brooke, you rock!”

I turn another page of my textbook. I’ve long since finished studying; the amount of time required to achieve a perfect score in every one of Natasha’s classes is less than I would spend in the gym at Oxford, but I always recheck my notes, just in case.

“I love this song,” Lexi declares, twisting onto her back and kicking her tanned legs in time with the heavy rap track that comes on. “Justin and me made out to it for the first time.”

“Have you trained him yet?” Morgan asks, stripping off her T-shirt and wandering back to her room for another bra. That’s another thing I miss about living alone: the absence of naked br**sts at every turn.

“In progress,” Lexi answers with a gleam. “Less drool now, thank god.”

“Eww!” Brooke squeals. “Why do you even bother?”

“’Cause he’s totally hot, that’s why.” Rolling her eyes, Lexi gets up and begins to browse my wardrobe. “It’s my service to the world. His future girlfriends will thank me.”