pretend my friends aren’t throwing me under a bus for a newcomer. If I still lived in Lincoln, they’d have to be comfortable with backstabbing me to my face, but since I don’t, they don’t have to deal with the fact that they’re traitors.
—
As furious as I am with my friends, I’d still rather be with them than with my new dorm mates.
Yasmin spends all her time either crying in front of some horrible romantic drama or in Groton Music Hall practicing her cello in one of the studios, which are the size of a walk-in closet. No wonder she’s a little off.
Jess is attached to her computer and always spouting off about various conspiracy theories. I endured a lengthy conversation between her and Opal about how the government is trying to poison us through the food supply.
Bettina, who might be mute, favors peasant blouses and denim skirts or else overalls, and pins her hair up into high topknots, disappears for long periods of time, and comes back covered in all kinds of gross and colorful substances.
Raksmey bops around in giant headphones, dancing to music no one can hear (or stand) but her.
And Samantha shoots me hate glares whenever she sees me, then wanders off with a notebook and pen in hand, probably to go write another horrific play.
Definitely not a lot to get excited about around here.
But what starts off as welcome solitude quickly turns into feeling like I’m being systematically frozen out. I try not to care, but so soon after Leo’s rejection and my old friends’ indifference, it feels surprisingly personal.
“We all tried to be nice, but you weren’t receptive to it, so we’re just honoring the wishes you made so clear,” Opal says when I try talking to her.
“Oh my god, can I live? Am I supposed to feel guilty because I’m in a bad place?” I ask.
“Why are you upset because we’re giving you what you want?” Opal asks.
“Because. You’re doing it with such attitude,” I say.
Opal tilts her head and gives me a flat look. “Really? If I tell everyone they need to tone down the attitude, you really think that’s going to make you more popular?”
Ugh, she so didn’t get it. “I don’t want to be popular here. I like being left alone but just not so aggressively.”
She shakes her head and leaves the room.
—
The next Social Calendar meeting is a full meeting, meaning that all fifty members are present. There’s a representative from each dorm, plus the Executive Committee. Samantha’s here from Abbot, bored out of her mind, still giving me death looks. There is a vote for VP, just as Whitney had warned me. At least she has the decency to avoid eye contact with me as she reads out the results. Three out of four people have voted for Lila.
I am completely embarrassed, but before I slink off, I confront Whit. “I have no reason to be part of the Calendar if I’m not going to be on the Executive Committee,” I say.
She sighs. “You’re determined to self-destruct. Don’t expect me to stop you.”
Okay, this was not the response I was expecting.
Why not?
I want to ask. Why isn’t she fighting me on this and trying to convince me to stay? “Just so you know, if you’re so worried about Lila taking over, letting her snake VP from me probably wasn’t smart.”
“If she brings hard work and good ideas to the committee, it’ll make us all look good,” Whitney says.
“She knows nothing about this school or the people in it. Besides, it’s my position. She already has my room, what’s next?” I don’t add that she’s already taken my best friend. “Why did she stop at VP? Why didn’t she just go for president?”
Whitney glares at me. “You brought this on yourself, Skylar. If you’d just done what I told you to do, this wouldn’t have happened.”
When I get back to my room, I’m so distraught that I’m about to do something I’ve been so determined not to do. I reach for my phone, pull up Leo’s number, and stare at it for a long minute.
—
As furious as I am with my friends, I’d still rather be with them than with my new dorm mates.
Yasmin spends all her time either crying in front of some horrible romantic drama or in Groton Music Hall practicing her cello in one of the studios, which are the size of a walk-in closet. No wonder she’s a little off.
Jess is attached to her computer and always spouting off about various conspiracy theories. I endured a lengthy conversation between her and Opal about how the government is trying to poison us through the food supply.
Bettina, who might be mute, favors peasant blouses and denim skirts or else overalls, and pins her hair up into high topknots, disappears for long periods of time, and comes back covered in all kinds of gross and colorful substances.
Raksmey bops around in giant headphones, dancing to music no one can hear (or stand) but her.
And Samantha shoots me hate glares whenever she sees me, then wanders off with a notebook and pen in hand, probably to go write another horrific play.
Definitely not a lot to get excited about around here.
But what starts off as welcome solitude quickly turns into feeling like I’m being systematically frozen out. I try not to care, but so soon after Leo’s rejection and my old friends’ indifference, it feels surprisingly personal.
“We all tried to be nice, but you weren’t receptive to it, so we’re just honoring the wishes you made so clear,” Opal says when I try talking to her.
“Oh my god, can I live? Am I supposed to feel guilty because I’m in a bad place?” I ask.
“Why are you upset because we’re giving you what you want?” Opal asks.
“Because. You’re doing it with such attitude,” I say.
Opal tilts her head and gives me a flat look. “Really? If I tell everyone they need to tone down the attitude, you really think that’s going to make you more popular?”
Ugh, she so didn’t get it. “I don’t want to be popular here. I like being left alone but just not so aggressively.”
She shakes her head and leaves the room.
—
The next Social Calendar meeting is a full meeting, meaning that all fifty members are present. There’s a representative from each dorm, plus the Executive Committee. Samantha’s here from Abbot, bored out of her mind, still giving me death looks. There is a vote for VP, just as Whitney had warned me. At least she has the decency to avoid eye contact with me as she reads out the results. Three out of four people have voted for Lila.
I am completely embarrassed, but before I slink off, I confront Whit. “I have no reason to be part of the Calendar if I’m not going to be on the Executive Committee,” I say.
She sighs. “You’re determined to self-destruct. Don’t expect me to stop you.”
Okay, this was not the response I was expecting.
Why not?
I want to ask. Why isn’t she fighting me on this and trying to convince me to stay? “Just so you know, if you’re so worried about Lila taking over, letting her snake VP from me probably wasn’t smart.”
“If she brings hard work and good ideas to the committee, it’ll make us all look good,” Whitney says.
“She knows nothing about this school or the people in it. Besides, it’s my position. She already has my room, what’s next?” I don’t add that she’s already taken my best friend. “Why did she stop at VP? Why didn’t she just go for president?”
Whitney glares at me. “You brought this on yourself, Skylar. If you’d just done what I told you to do, this wouldn’t have happened.”
When I get back to my room, I’m so distraught that I’m about to do something I’ve been so determined not to do. I reach for my phone, pull up Leo’s number, and stare at it for a long minute.
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