CHAPTER 2
"I am excited to be of service Chief," she replied
"Excellent," the Chief nodded, not expecting any other answer, "and the reason that I brought these researchers," motioning to the nerds. "Is to help you in establishing an identity and fitting into the practical and normal college role. We need to get you prepped and there is only two weeks until freshmen move in." He nodded in solidifying the plan and left the room.
Was he serious? Beca was a little taken aback by the idea that she was out of touch in her own generation. And his obvious insinuation that she was a lot of work for just two weeks' time.
But her self-indignation didn't last long when she thought about her real interest in current social normalcies: she didn't have a clue how to be a "regular" college-bound teenage girl.
Her whole childhood was abnormal. Because of her ability to read at a second grade level at the age of four she was immediately singled out as a potential prodigy.
From the start, her parents put her in almost excellence program possible. Taking her out of the local public school to put her in the most prestigious private school in the country was benign compared to the extremes that the Mitchells went to give Beca the best.
She was pushed into anything and everything. Sports, academic teams, music, tech advancements and everything in between. Beca truly loved all that she was able to do. She loved having stories of whooping the ass of a cocky adult chess pro at his own game at the age of 9 and of her qualifying for junior Olympics by 11 but she found that because of the competitive edge and her young age, she didn't really have anyone to share her success with. Her advanced brain functioning and photographic memory helped her achieve goals but left little room for friends.
It only made it worse that the two people that had been the most steady and constant companions to Beca got into a messy divorce that stemmed from the stress that comes with financially providing for a prodigy and constant traveling. Her dealings with her parents were now tense & few & far between.
By the time she was the appropriate age to go to college, she had already gone through college twice, took the standard "self discovery" trip around Europe and decided that she wanted to do something with her life and enrolled to join the CIA.
Her resume raised eyebrows and caused a flurry at government headquarters to the point that she had branches of the government fighting for her employment in their operations.
Eventually she opted into a secret program that the government wasn't disclosing intimate details about to many major government officials. Beca liked the secrecy and the idea of doing a job with such accuracy that it was practically translucent.
This high expectation of code red super secret operations is what led Beca to be more than a little disappointed to be role playing a sorority girl.
Of course Beca took the mission. It may not be her ideal mission now but it was something and if she did it fast enough, she could show that she was better than surveillance and finally win some respect in the office.
This reluctant yet determined agreement to lead the operation is what put Beca in the strange room plastered with the face of what appeared to be a feminine boy who was trying hard to make up for puberty's taking it sweet time.
Beca could practically feel her eyes popping out of get head when she stated around. There was a myriad of official-looking charts that's credibility was undermined by the ads for pimple cream & dresses that plastered the walls.
She was on the lower level with three of the nerds who had brought her to a room that was labeled simply: research lab. Two of them were busily turning on machines that littered the floor and the other was standing beside her.
"THIS is considered research?" Beca scoffed as she turned in a complete circle to take on the entire expanse of the room that looked like teenage stereotypes threw up on it.
"THIS," one of the nerds, Benjamin, corrected her turning in a circle arms outspread ,"Is what is going to save your ass and teach you to be a regular college female."
Beca bristled at obvious dig, "Hey- Benjamin," reading his name tag, " what makes you think that I don't know how to be an average teenage girl?!"
"Who is David Guetta?" Benjamin asked blankly.
"I'm sorry?" Beca was taken aback with his answering a question with another question.
"How many followers do you have on Instagram?" Benjamin persisted
"Insta- what?"
"Do you think Jess and Nick will ever get together in New Girl?
Who is cuter Khloe and Lamar or Kanye and Kim?
Team Edward or Team Jacob?
Have you ever had a bikini wax?
Do you look better with a summer or fall color pallet?
Do you honk cheer leading should be a sport?
Have you ever done a juice cleanse?"
"STOP!" Beca yelled. The three researchers looked at her in shock. Benjamin stopped his questioning and stared at her. His colleagues followed suit. The silence of the room seemed to be louder than her shouting.
She didn't realize her hands in her hair or the unease she felt until Benjamin went silent.
"We don't mean to overwhelm you Agent Mitchell," Benjamin apologized for his pushiness. "But you will have to be well-versed in this "lingo" and culture if you will if you want to blend in well and truly immerse yourself in this mission."
Beca began to have a slight headache at all the bubble letters and floral prints that surrounded her. As much as she hated to admit it, this craziness was her identity and if she wanted to prove her worth to her colleagues and herself, than she would have to commit to this role. No matter how much if an airhead or daddy's girl she'd have to be.
"No you're right, Benjamin," Beca sighed. "Where do we start?"
