I remember. I was so freaking excited. I mean, who wouldn't be? Four whole years away from your parent. I loved them, but I was a teenager-fourteen, going into ninth grade-and I needed my space. Plus, I thought I knew everything, so Thorpe definitely was the best idea.
The ride-ugh, the horrible ride-was bumpy and long, I didn't think it would end. Five hours. Five freaking hours in a shitty Ford Pinto, puke colored, squished in the back with my luggage. New York better be good, I thought to myself. Up till about a year ago, my family had been pretty well off. Dad was a business man raking in the millions. I had a lot of money saved up, just in case. Of what, I had no clue. But I did it anyway, one of those things you do when you're young, but you don't know why. I had all the latest stuff, clothes, make-up, hair gadgets, electronics. Oddly, I wasn't one of those stuck up, bitchy, spoiled brats. My mom always helped out in the community and I grew up around that. Not around all that glamorous stuff. Then, when I was thirteen, I was interested in boys and such things, make-up and all those girly things really peaked my interest. That's when I started getting the stuff. I was unfamiliar with all the junk, but learned to use them through experimenting. But then, we lost it all. Dad went off gambling, got himself hammered, and lost his whole life's work to a rival business man in one poker game. The last name was Higgins, or something. His son went to Thorpe, too. Racetrack, they called him. At least I still had the money I saved. Not that anyone really knew about it.
"Hey, Blue." I kept typing. Eastern Philosophy essays sucked. "Blue!" Explain the difference between Yin and Yang and tell which of the two you lean towards. "BLUE!" Writer's block, now. That sucked even more. "Molly Hinter!" That got my attention. I turned my head to face my roommate, Hazel. Her real name was Jackie Landon. Everyone knew that. She was part of the group called the C.C. It stood for compact chicks. No one ever said that, though. It wasn't cool. It was either the C.C. or "those fucking hot chicks"-a phrase I had heard used so many times before by boys in the mess hall staring at them, not bothering to conceal their thoughts. C.C. The Compact Chicks. I don't think anyone really knew what that meant, but I guess it's probably something to do with the fact that they're all gorgeous, they're all smart, and they basically have it all. Oh yeah, and they're all rich. Hazel's allowance before she came to Thorpe was practically the same amount as the tax of Greece. Compact. All that in one person. And there was a whole group of them! God, what I would've done to be a C.C. in those days. There was always the C.C. Every year since, like 1890. It was 2007 then and still that tradition lived on-and it probably still does now.
Blue. I don't even remember how I got that nickname. Most people had one. Probably one of those old stupid traditions again. Actually, I think everyone had one. I mean, if someone like me had one-I was not the most popular of people, let's just stick with that-then it was most likely that everyone did.
"Can I get on the laptop? I have history homework. Ms. Pern insists that 'we take advantage of the progress humanity has made' and get all our homework off the computer. She's been in a pissy mood this week. Probably hasn't gotten laid in a while."
"Yeah, sure. I got writers block, anyways. This essay's due in like a week." I ex-ed out of Microsoft Word and headed for my bed. I lay there sinking into the mattress, with nothing to do. Rolling over I picked up a magazine. It was this month's edition of Vogue. I started flipping through it when there was at knock on the door.
"It's unlocked," called Hazel. The door-covered in pictures of Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, and other boys that we would bang any day-swung open. It rebounded a little off the wall it was swinging at. In the doorway stood three boys. My heart started to beat a little faster. Actually, a lot faster. At Thorpe, there was a group of boys that hung out with the C.C. As an understatement, I'd like to say that they really gave those guys on the back of our door competition. At least that's what just about every damn girl at Thorpe thought-including me of course. There stood Jack Kelly, Kid Blink, and Mush Meyers. I tried to catch Mush's eye, but stopped when I realized that I didn't know what I would do if he did look at me.
"Heya, Hazel. Come on, the rest of the guys are waitin' with Connie-another of the famous C.C.-for yah. We're goin' to the-uh" Jack glanced uncertainly at me, "to 'the place'." Hazel rolled her eyes, stood up, and pulled on her black, fur-lined Gucci jacket. On her way out the door, she turned back.
"Could you take my homework outta the printer and put in on my desk? Thanks, babe." With out waiting for an answer, Hazel turned around and tiptoed down the hallway. Boys weren't supposed to be in the girl's dorms when it was social-time. Not that it made a difference to me. They never talked to me. Pshh, like that would ever happen.
If you haven't caught on, this is being told from Blue's point of view when she's older.
R&R.
