Waverly Owls Know Designer Clothes Don't Belong in Iceland

(Dylan POV)

The dark emerald green trees swirled past our window while the gray sky looked ominous. I rested my head on the pane and closed my eyes for a second.

My iPod nano kept going however, playing Please Don't Stop the Music by Rihanna. Kristen slowly took away my ear bud, trying to be sneaky but failing miserably, and put it in her ear. She promptly began dancing in her seat and singing at full blast. I wasn't exactly sure how she could dance in her seat, but Kristen the Smarty did it.

I smirked, my painted red lips matching my hair. Kristen was so odd sometimes.

"Hey, Dylan. We're here," Claire whispered. I opened my eyes and tried to fix my mass of burgundy curls before we exited.

We opened the door in the back and met Massie on the sidewalk. She had her hands on her hips in an impatient manner.

"Gawd, could you have taken any longer? We need to have a quick rating before we enter Waverly!" she cried dramatically. I discreetly rolled my eyes at her dramatic attitude. But, that was Massie for you!

We lined up, with our backs straight, waiting for Massie to announce who would go first. Ugh, I always hated these ratings. I think they're pretty stupid, but I can't say anything. After all, I am able to say that I've never been kicked out of the PC!

Claire was texting on her ancient Nokia. It was probably to Cam. They were trying a new thing, apparently, trying to be friends. As if that could happen. They were still having problems, even in this whole 'friends' stage. She, of course, came crying to us every time they did. I honestly hope that they break up soon.

Not that I like to see Claire suffer or that I like Cam. Though, he is very cute. The black hair, multicolored eye combo was pretty hot. But, I digress.

Massie spotted Claire's inattentiveness and glared at her in that scary way that she manages to do.

"Well, Kuh-laire, since you seem so interested in your conversation, you should go first. Then you can get back to texting Cammie Psycho Eyes," she replied saccharinely. Wow, hypocritical much, Ms. Yellow Eyes?

Claire looked up, hearing the sound of Massie's voice. She looked confused as to why we were all staring at her. Massie's glare intensified.

Alicia widened her eyes and turned her head slightly toward Massie (who was tapping her foot impatiently) and told her with her eyes to get to the front, now. Claire pocketed her phone and walked up to the front, her confused expression still intact.

"Kuh-laire is wearing a borrowed navy peasant top with Aeropostal light washed jeans and white Keds," Massie said, raising an eyebrow at the "cheap" jeans and shoes. "She is also wearing a gold Stella McCarthy necklace and earring set, gold bangles, and pink-based makeup."

Massie patted her chin with her index finger, eyes narrowed. "8.4," she concluded.

We clapped politely and Claire scurried back to her place. Alicia went up next.

"Alicia is wearing a champagne-colored Ralph Lauren tunic dress, black leggings, and YSL crème wedges. She styles them with silver jewelry and black and red makeup," Massie continued. "9.5."

Alicia curtsied to the audience and we all laughed as we were supposed to. Massie beckoned for Kristen to come forward.

"Ms. Gregory is wearing a lemon yellow mini-dress, sheer tights, and turquoise Marc by Marc Jacobs pumps. She is also styling her new eyelash extensions, which look ah-dorable!" Massie kept going, getting into the ratings now. "9.5 for the extensions and awesome color combo."

"Our very own Marvil-ous is wearing the new Christian Louboutin stilettos, dark grey shift dress, and bright red skinny jeans. She has on the Swarovski necklace her mother gave to her for her birthday. Add white gold hoops and a grey headband and there is her outfit. A total 9.6."

I smiled brightly and walked back into my place. The highest rating went to me! And I had been feeling nervous that the red skinny jeans brought too much attention my thighs. Guess if they did, it was good attention. Last up, was Massie herself. Alicia announced it for her. "Miss Massie Block is wearing a grey and black plaid dress with dark purple knee socks and black pumps. Her signature charm bracelet is on her arm with hints of grey and silver on her face. I deem you a 9.7!"

"What would make me a 9.8?" Massie asked, as always when she got less than a 9.8.

"A bit more gloss. Glossip Girl Cinnabon?" I responded. Massie quickly applied more of the sugary-smelling lip gloss.

"Okay girls, now it's time to strut into Waverly like we own it. On four, walk to Good Girls Go Bad by Cobra Starship," Massie said, straightening her shoulders. "Ah-one, Ah-two, Ah-one, two, three, four," she whispered.

We began walking to the beat of the popular alternative song. Heads turned as we walked down the strip of land that lead us to the rest of our lives. I heard whispers spreading like wildfire, wondering who we were. I furtively used my peripheral vision to see Massie's reaction. Her infamous half-smile was all that clued us in to the fact that she loved the attention. We reached the check-in office in our dorm, Dumbarton.

Massie strutted up to the desk and put on a file (fake smile). "Hello, Mrs. Tullington." She looked at the wrinkly woman's name tag. "Has the luggage for Massie Block, Alicia Rivera, Kristen Gregory, and Dylan Marvil arrived yet?"

Claire wasn't mentioned because she had brought all of her luggage with her in the taxi. She was the only one of us with the amount of clothes that could actually fit in the trunk of the cab. The rest of us had only brought our electronics in our carry-ons.

Like our luggage could have fit in that tiny space. Puh-lease! We sent it early on to Waverly to avoid having to carry anything.

Mrs. Tullington looked confused. "Luggage? We haven't received any luggage."

Massie's file became slightly strained. "Excuse me?"

"Yes. We haven't received any luggage from anyone named Massie Block, Alicia Rivera, Kristen Gregory, or Dylan Marvil," she responded.

"Check on your computer. Maybe the luggage is just running a little late. But it should be arriving soon." Massie's eye twitched.

The old woman pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and turned to her computer. She punched in some keys and stared at the glowing screen for a moment. She looked up at Massie with a raised eyebrow.

"There is no luggage for M. Block, A. Rivera, K. Gregory, or D. Marvil coming today or any day for that matter," she finally said.

Our jaws dropped. WHAT?? Where the hell is our luggage, then?

Massie dropped the fake smile. She slowly turned toward Kristen and myself. Her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Where. In the freaking hell. Is OUR LUGGAGE?" Massie shrieked.

Kristen and I looked at each other and gulped. It was time for one of Massie's infamous bitch fits.

My eyes suddenly widened to the size of a small planet. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

Flashback

"Okay, Dyl," Kristen said, struggling to carry all of our suitcases inside the building. She wiped sweat off her brow. "Go inside and check in our luggage to where it's supposed to be sent. Remember, Waverly is in Rhinecliff, New York."

"Yeah, yeah." I waved her off and walked into the office building closing the door on Kristen trying to enter the building with the mountain of suitcases. She swore loudly, causing a teen mother on the street to cover her child's ears, all the while glaring at Kristen.

I looked around for the desk to write in where we would send our luggage. Finding it, I almost ran to get to it. I wanted to do this as quickly as I could. My sisters were coming back from college for a visit and I want to spend as much time with them as possible.

"Hello, I'd like to send 15 Louis Vuitton suitcases belonging to Dylan Marvil, Massie Block, Kristen Gregory, and Alicia Rivera, please," I said kindly.

"Sure. Where would you like to send them too?" the young man, probably in his early 30's, asked.

"Um…" I tried to think of where Kristen told me Waverly was. Oh crap, where is it?

I looked around and tried to see if anything sparked something. I saw a poster with a tropical setting and volcano in the background. Under it, it said Reykjavik, Iceland.

Ah-ha! That must be where Waverly is. Kristen did say something about the place starting with R. Duh, I'm such an idiot.

I smiled brightly at the man. "Reykjavik, Iceland, please."

Flashback Over

I was brought back to the present and saw Massie practically spewing smoke from her ears.

"Which one of you was the one to send our luggage?" When neither of us said anything, she yelled, "WHO?!"

I meekly raised my hand, as though I was answering a question in class. Massie turned her pissed off gaze at me. I trembled slightly.

"You, Dylan?"

I nodded.

"Dylan," she started, a sugary smile replacing her earlier expression. Bi-polar, much? "Where is Waverly?"

"Um, New York?" I responded hesitantly.

"Good job, Dylan!" Massie clapped her hands like an excited teacher.

"And where is New York?"

"Here?" I replied, more like a question than a sure answer. Massie clapped her hands in approval again.

The rest of the PC looked as confused as I felt. What was Massie getting at?

"So why," she continued, her expression darkening, "Is our luggage not here?"

"Well," I said, looking around nervously, "It's… sort of, kinda… in Iceland…"

"WHAT?" Massie screeched like a banshee. "IT'S IN ICELAND?"

I was afraid to say yes, but did anyway, nodding my head like a scared puppy.

Massie growled, the vein in her forehead pulsing. "I'm going to kill you, Dylan!"

She suddenly lunged forward, but Alicia and Claire held her back. Massie thrashed and writhed around, trying to get away from their grips and to kill me. She kept yelling "Let me at her, let me at her!" I was completely shocked by Massie's violent tendency that I was standing frozen. Damn, I would have been the ideal target for an assassin, too shocked to move…

Claire and Alicia kept her back until Massie had calmed down slightly from her meltdown. They dropped her when she asked and, in a display of klutziness, fell flat on her butt.

I inwardly giggled. Wow, only Massie would fall after she just had a temper tantrum.

Massie stood up quickly and smoothed out her sweater dress. She put on a blank expression on her face, attempting to salvage some dignity.

"Well it's not so bad, Mass." We whipped around to see shy and quiet Claire smiling slightly. She seemed as though she was on Animal Planet trying to tame a wild tiger.

And in a way, she was.

"How in the world, Kuh-laire, is this 'not so bad'?" she quoted angrily.

"Well," she continued in the same cautious tone, "I still have my stuff."

"Good for you, Claire. Now how is this relevant?" Alicia said testily. She must have been angry (but in a more subtle way than Massie) about losing her clothes too. She did bring the new Ralph Lauren collection.

"This means I can share my clothes. So, none of you would have to go without clothes for the rest of the year!" Claire looked happy at her development.

The rest of us, however, stared at her as though she had grown a double head. Was she freaking serious? Does she honestly think we're going to share her clothes of all things?

"I'd rather go around naked," Massie said, putting into words what we felt.

"Well, we'd love to see that," a deep voice boomed in the lobby. We turned so quickly to see who it was, I was sure we'd all gotten whiplash.

It was a boy with golden shaggy hair and deep green eyes, almost exactly like mine. He was styling a royal blue Lacoste tee with a pair of worn in jeans. On his feet were a pair of black Ecko Red sneakers. In a word, he was hot. Drool-worthy at it's maximum level.

Surrounding him, were a bunch of other boys, each cute in their own way. One looked exceptionally clean and perfect. He looked as though he spent lots of time on his looks to get that 'flawless' look he sported. Another boy looked stoned out of his mind and was scratching his overgrown beard as he muttered something about 'the shrums'. The last of them was super tall and had wavy blond/brown hair. His chocolate brown eyes twinkled with mischief.

We all gaped discreetly (at least I think we were) for about three seconds. Then, Massie retorted back to his comment.

"I'm sure you would. I mean, it's not like you could get girls any other way, right?"

The PC and the boys surrounding the golden haired one laughed. Though the boys seemed a little mocking, as though the golden boy really could get girls. And a lot. But, maybe I'm reading too much into this.

The blond boy smirked. "I'm Heath."

"Massie, Alicia, Claire, Dylan, and Kristen," she said, pointing toward each of us in turn.

Heath looked at us as well, his eyes lingering slightly on Alicia's boobs. Typical boy, attracted by the mere sight of cleavage. Alicia quickly folded her arms over her chest. If only she knew that it drew more attention to them than it covered…

"Are you new?" Heath asked.

"No, we just come to check-in for fun, Heath," Alicia replied sardonically.

"Feisty, Heath likey," he said, his gaze settling once more on her chest. Alicia groaned and turned around, facing the wall.

"Dude, stop flirting. We have to get to squash practice," the tallest one said.

"Fine. Stop my fun, Julian."

Julian rolled his eyes while scoffing and motioned for Heath and the others to follow. Heath saluted to us in a cocky manner, and followed Julian. The rest scurried after them.

When they were out of sight and earshot, we turned to each other and squealed. Oh my God! Those boys are even cuter than the boys back at Westchester! We gossiped a bit about them before we remembered the pressing issue.

What were we going to do about our clothes?!

--

Waverly Owls Do Not Harass Other People's Children

Josh Hotz was listening to his iPod while thinking of what had happened recently. First of all, his unofficial girlfriend, Alicia Rivera, had framed him and put him in the trailers. Then, he had found the New York Yankees hat he had given her in the bushes. She hadn't even noticed that he had gotten her name monogrammed on the inside of the hat. And lastly, he was ruining any chance he had to be with her by leaving to Waverly.

Why had he followed Derrick to Waverly?

Truthfully, he didn't give a crap about the trailers. He found the massage chairs comfy and the mirror inside his desk handy. But he just had to be a follower. He would've stayed, but he had never found any reason to socialize outside of his tight soccer circle. He barely associated with the other guys on the team that weren't HART as Alicia would describe them.

Not that he knew who was hot or toned.

But Alicia had assured him that he and his group were pretty much it. Now he regretted it. How could Cam, Derrick, Plovert, and Kemp be so confident? Josh was completely nervous. Starting Briarwood had been just as bad, but he had met Derrick at the skate park and he had taken him under his wing. He was going to a totally different school where he didn't have a guide like before.

Now, he just had to pray that he would be as lucky as before. Next to him was Cam, who was texting on his phone. He seemed pretty happy and by his grin and easy posture, Josh was sure that he was texting Claire. Josh wondered how he would break the news to Claire that he was in another part of the state.

He nudged Cam and asked, "You're talking to Claire, right?"

Cam nodded.

Josh continued, "Did you tell her you switched schools?"

"No, I don't know how to tell her; we just agreed to be friends."

Without another word, he went back to giving his phone his undivided attention. Josh took this as his cue to end the conversation. He closed his eyes and tried to regain the deep slumber and amazing dream he was having before Derrick had oh-so rudely interrupted.

He had been dreaming about being on a tropical island with Alicia and Claire. He had no idea how or why Claire was in his tropical paradise, not that he was complaining. Considering they were both in hula skirts and bathing suit tops.

Yes, it was paradise.

Suddenly, Josh felt a huge bump and he could've sworn he flew at least a feet off his seat. Taking off his earphones, he tried to see what was going on. Then, the co-pilot's voice came over the speaker.

"We will be experiencing some turbulence. Please stay calm and thank you for choosing American Airlines." Josh wondered if they ever got tired of saying the same tagline.

He looked over to Cam and noticed that he seemed to be shivering in his leather jacket. He was clutching onto the arm rests and seemed to be hyperventilating.

"Cam, chill," Josh said to him fearing for his friend's health.

"We're going to die, and you tell me to chill!" Cam responded still clutching his chair as if it was life support.

"We're not going to die." Josh sighed.

"I knew it. Why did I let Derrick lure me into this? I'm never going to see Claire again," Cam said in a scared voice, "Oh God, Oh God!"

"Get a grip, man!" Josh said, shaking Cam by his shoulders, "It's just freaking turbulence!"

"Just turbulence? Do you know how many times turbulence has led to crashes?!"

"Uh, no," Josh said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, me neither, but I know it happens!"

"Dude, can you chill? You're scaring the other people on the plane," Josh said looking at an elderly woman's alarmed face.

"Does he need some Pepto-Bismol, or something? I have some in my carry-on," A woman offered Josh.

"Um, thank you, but no, it's his first time on a plane and he's just a little paranoid," Josh said smiling at the woman.

The woman shrugged and went back to watching the movie that was playing. Little Rascals, Josh vaguely remembered. Thankfully, the co-pilot made the announcement that they were free of turbulence and the passengers were free to move around.

Cam visibly relaxed and Josh patted him on the arm with a chuckle. Who would know that Cam was totally afraid of turbulence? He kept that tidbit of information in his files somewhere in the back of his brain.

He had a motto: Any information could be used.

Josh moved his carry-on so that he could get more of his favorite 5-gum, Cobalt. While moving his duffle bag, he managed to accidentally knock Cam's phone out of his lap and under the seat. Cam squealed and reached for it, but it slipped and with the vibrations of the plane, moved to the seat behind them.

Cam and Josh both turned back and saw the angry face of a woman that seemed to be PMS-ing, Josh observed, and a young boy about three years old. The boy had Cam's sidekick in his hands and kept flipping it and typing gibberish. The lady glared at Josh and Cam, and they both turned back to their normal positions.

"Somebody's grouchy," Cam said to Josh.

"How are you going to get your phone back?"

"What do you mean? You're getting my phone back," Cam said to Josh's disbelieving expression, "You're the one that knocked it."

"Sensitive one, my ass," Josh thought, before giving Cam a glare and turning back towards the lady.

"Miss, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but your son seems to have my friend's phone, could you please give it back to us?" Josh asked, piling on the sweetness, hoping to at least turn the lady's grimace to a normal expression.

"No hablo Ingles," The lady said, still with her mean disposition on.

"Just my luck," Josh thought and turned back around.

"Well, we're screwed. She doesn't speak English and we're both failing Spanish," Josh explained to Cam.

"Not my problem," Cam said to Josh and grabbed his black iPod and blasted his rock music full-blast.

Josh huffed and grabbed his iPod again; maybe listening to music would give him an idea.

About thirty minutes later, Josh saw the lady stand up and leave to the bathroom. With a smirk, Josh got out of his seat and sat in the lady's. He saw that the pudgy little kid had fallen asleep with half of Cam's phone in his mouth.

Josh widened his eyes at the little kid's ability. That could be very useful when eating hamburgers. He knew the little kid would be a God if he went to Briarwood.

Shrugging that off, he reached carefully for the phone. Slowly, he started to move Cam's phone out of the little kid's mouth. When he had almost all of it out, the little kid opened its eyes and started shrieking at an alarming decibel.

Josh grabbed Cam's phone, currently full of saliva, gagging and wiped it on his Diesel jeans. He moved to get out of the seat before calling too much attention when he saw the PMS-ing lady right in front of him.

He whimpered, and that was the last he did before he felt the lady's purse hitting him on his stomach, and his leg, and his shin, and not stopping there.

"Nunca, whack, molestes, whack, a mi, whack, hijo," The lady said while whipping him everywhere with her purse, which was full of God-knows-what.

"Perdon, perdon!" Josh kept screaming. It was one of the few things he knew in Spanish.

Thankfully, a flight attendant came over, asking what was wrong. Josh explained and the lady explained something in Spanish, but Josh had no idea what happened because the flight attendant just ordered him back to his seat.

Rubbing his shoulder, where the purse hit him multiple times, Josh wondered if he could sue for child abuse, but his lawyer was Len Rivera and he didn't know how he would contact him without calling Alicia first. And he was not calling Alicia.

Remembering the whole reason why he was attacked, Josh waved in front of Cam's face, trying to bring him back from wherever he went when he listened to rock.

He looked up and Josh handed him his sidekick.

"Thanks," Cam said with a grin.

Josh wanted to wipe that grin off his face with a punch.

--

Waverly Owls Have No Problem Separating From Their 'Posse'

Girls, girls, and more girls. Yes, this is paradise. If anybody regrets coming to Waverly, it sure isn't me.

Grinning at a group of blonde girls, squealing at our appearance, I can't help but feel as if I'm in a movie. You know, one of those cheesy high school movies where the popular group walks into the school and all the girls swoon. Yeah, I'm part of the group.

I wink at a brunette, and she looks away with a face of disgust, but I know better. She's sheepish to be in the presence of such a hottie like me. I'll ask her for her number later.

Surprisingly, Plovert pops into my head. I was sitting next to him the whole plane ride. I seriously don't know what is up with that dude. He's been my protégée for about three years now, and he still hasn't had a hookup or a steady girlfriend. Except Dylan, but that doesn't really count.

It's worrying me.

I've tried everything. I give him my Playboy magazines all the time, introduce him to all the girls I know, give him pointers in flirting, but none of it works. I have a feeling he's still hung up over some girl he went out with back in New Jersey, where he used to live. Supposedly they went out for, like, two years. Her name was Brittany or Briana, or something else with a B.

Anyways, it's been seven years. He should be over it by now.

We finally reach our dorm's office. Derrick goes in, and we all follow. Once in the office, I look around. It seems really old-fashioned. To my left I see a glass case filled completely with trophies of all kind, and a few seats for waiting. On my right there's a fireplace with photos plastered all around it. They seem like formal pictures from some kind of banquet.

I swear, my grandma could totally blend in here.

I let my sight go to the main desk. Derrick is already there and he has started sweet-talking the secretary, though I can't see why. She seems old enough to be our great, great, great grandmother.

"Hello, there. How are you today, beautiful?" Derrick inquires.

"Well, I'm just fine, sonny. What can I do for you today?"

"Only one thing, besides gracing me with your presence."

Gosh, he can be so embarrassing. I mean, EW.

"And what is that?"

"Well, my friends and I are new. We would like to receive our schedules and anything else necessary."

"Sure, honey."

Linda starts typing and clicking away in her computer, and then she looks up and asks us our names. We state them for her, and she types a few seconds more, before she hands us a few packets.

"Okay, here is the school handbook, your schedules, room assignments, school newspaper, and your luggage has already been delivered to your rooms. Welcome to Waverly Academy," she says with a smile, while handing us each a stack of booklets and papers.

"Thank you so much, Linda," Derrick finishes off and leads us out of the office. We get to a tree in the front yard and I plop down underneath it.

I put my booklets on my lap and try to decipher what is what. I find the handbook, and I flip randomly to a page. Skimming the headlines, one thing stands out to me.

"Dude, we need to do a sport," I state.

"Umm, yeah, what's the problem with that?" Cam asks me.

"Well, according to this list, soccer isn't an option." I throw the handbook at Cam's face.

With a disbelieving look on his face, he catches it, and looks at it carefully. His jaw falls slack, and I know he's realized the problem. He shows Derrick the magazine and Derrick lets out a "Dude!"

"So, what do we do?" Josh asks, running his fingers through his already messy hair.

After a minute of thinking, Derrick finally responds.

"We'll have to play lacrosse. Cammie-boy, you can teach us a few things, since you've learned from Harris how to play and all," Derrick says.

Cam beams, happy to be given such an important job. That weirdo. I rather stay in the outskirts and not do anything. Girls, booze, and soccer, scratch that, lacrosse, were my only worries. And thankfully, it was staying that way.

I snatched my handbook back from Derrick's hands and picked up another paper. Room assignments. Apparently, it was a master list. So, it had all our roommates names alongside ours. Great, this meant I had to read them out loud.

"I've got the roommate assignments," I announced.

"Okay, read them," Plovert said.

I cleared my throat and read off:

Cam Fisher-Easy Walsh in Room 212

Derrick Harrington-Julian McCafferty in Room 218

Josh Hotz-Brandon Buchanan in Room 222

Kemp Hurley-Heath Ferro in Room 320

Chris Plovert-Sebastian Valenti in Room 114

Dorm: Richards

"Wow, not one of us is together," Cam pointed out.

"Awww, I'll miss my buddies," Derrick gushed.

"But, we don't even know those people. How do they expect us to just split up?" Josh inquired.

"Hey, at least we're in the same dorm," Plovert said, trying to be positive.

I sighed, and looked away. I noticed that to the right of our location, a girl was approaching. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to fix it into an attractive state. But, when she got closer, I noticed there was no need. This girl had stringy blonde hair in a very messy bun with a pencil sticking out of it. Her eyes were framed by round, wire rimmed glasses, and she was wearing the most unappealing outfit ever. An oatmeal-colored sweater that seemed two sizes too big and khaki capris. And with her bird-like resemblance, she could've been Principal Burn's daughter. And I don't do administration's family.

"Hello, I'm Yvonne Stidder. I'm the head of the Student Council, and I saw you guys looking a bit lost. Can I help you find your dorm?"

Damn, she had a British accent.

Now, if only somebody could kidnap her and give her a total makeover. Cut her hair into some attractive layers, give her contacts, change her sense of style, and spray her all over with perfume so that she could stop smelling like Vicks Vapor Rub. Oh, and work on her speed-talking.

We all looked at each other. None of us wanted to get involved with this girl.

"Yeah, sure. We're in the Richards dorm," Cam responded.

Thank God for him. Always such a nice guy.

"Wow, lucky you," she said to Cam, smiling in what she must of thought was a flirtatious way. Cam looked uncomfortable.

"Come this way." She started walking away from the tree. We all followed her and she took us past a few buildings.

"This is the girl's dorm: Dumbarton. Visiting hours are until six, but everyone sneaks in. Just try not to get caught," Yvonne explained.

Wow, I need to get some pointers from my roommate on that. Hopefully, he's not a total nerd, and can actually help me in that department.

"Who are your roommates?"

"Umm, well, I have Heath Ferro," I told her looking at my paper.

"Oooo, you have Mr. Pony."

"Pony? What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't like to gossip, but I do know a few things about people."

"I have Brandon Buchanan," Josh said, probably trying to find out a bit about his roommate, too.

"Wow, you're lucky. Everything in your room will be clean."

Josh looked confused, but decided not to push for more.

"What about Julian McCafferty?" Derrick questioned.

"Well, I barely know anything about him; he's very quiet, but very popular."

"What do you know about Easy Walsh?" Cam asked.

"Nice. Two hot guys in a room," She smiled as she stopped in front of a building. "Here we are, Richards. Do you want to know anything else?"

We looked at Plovert. He looked deep in thought, but he shook his head no.

Yvonne shrugged. "Okay, well, if you need anything, I'll always be around. See you later," She said more to Cam than anybody else.

"Dude, she totally digs you." I punched Cam on the arm.

"Ew, she scares me." Cam shivered at the thought.

"She needs to get laid," Josh pointed out.

"Do you think anybody would tap that?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Josh shrugged and was about to answer when Derrick spoke.

"Well, it's time to split up and go our own way." Derrick sighed.

"Okay, see ya." I bumped fists with them, and headed towards the stairs. My room was on the third floor. To anyone on the outside I seemed confident and ready for anything, but on the inside I was trembling to find out who Mr. Pony really was.

--

SageFrancis: I totally just saw Yvonne Stidder showing the new guys 2 their dorm.

AlisonQuentin: Don't worry, it's not like she has a chance with any of them.

SageFrancis: True, true, but she was flirting with the Easy look-alike.

AlisonQuentin: Well, I heard he was even hotter than Easy, and he has a blue eye AND a green eye. The double package.

SageFrancis: At least we're getting a closer look tonight at the welcome luncheon.

AlisonQuentin: Yeah, I hope we get to sit close to them, though.

SageFrancis: With our luck, they put Tinsley, Callie, Brett, and Jenny right next to them.

AlisonQuentin: Yep, that would be just our luck.

--

HeathFerro: Woot, woot. We just got shipped new material.

: Who's the first one to get a ride on the pony?

HeathFerro: I'm leaning towards the feisty brunette. She could be totally hard-core in bed.

: So true.

--

CelineColista: OMG! Have you heard about the new transfers?

BennyCunningham: Duh. Nothing gets past me, remember?

CelineColista: Of course! How could I forget Benny? XD. Anyway, apparently the girls used to be major alcoholic socialites in this small town in NY. Their school kicked them out for that and cuz they slept with like half of the student body. And it was an all girl school!

BennyCunningham: I heard that, too! I also heard about the new boys who came. There's only one way to describe them; Hothothot!

CelineColista: That's three words, Benny.

BennyCunningham: But the same one! So it doesn't count. And besides, we can't go for one of them. He's taken by the towhead of the girl transfers. -.- They're called the Pretty Committee. How lame!

CelineColista: Didn't you want to name our group the 'Beauty Babes'? Isn't that just as lame? And, Benny, seriously. When has the guy being taken stopped you before? Do the names Erik Olssen and Tricia Rieken ring any bells?

BennyCunningham: Very good point, Cel. That black haired boy is like a hotter version of EZ. Let the games begin. :)