Accepted (5 page)

Or not.

She huffed…or
harrumphed…I couldn’t tell the difference. It wasn’t a very attractive sound. Jealously did not become Randi. And then, she proceeded to ignore me.

From the moment I first saw her, I knew Randi was the key to being accepted. Amber could like me, everyone could, but Randi had to approve of me. Thankfully, I felt like I’d been holding my own with her. I had her pretty much figured out. She didn’t like feeling threatened, and so far, I’d been able to successfully mollify her when she did sense a threat.

And I definitely posed a threat, at least in her eyes.

I was her best friend’s roommate, one whom her best friend got along with fantastically. I’d quickly become friends with a guy she had a definitive interest in. Plus, the guy and I had classes in common, and therefore were required to spend time together and possibly even work together — I could dream, couldn’t I?

Mostly, though, I think it bothered her that I wasn’t socially astute enough to fall in line. That’s what she’d expected. It’s what she’d planned on.

Randi had expected me to bow down, like everyone else. Honestly, I’d expected to do the same. I just didn’t know how and obviously kept screwing up.

I knew I should stay away from Colin. Just like I knew I should kiss up to Randi. I knew it was smarter to fall in line and to follow. Being on Randi’s bad side would hurt me much more than it would hurt her. I had no illusions about who Amber or Colin would pick in a fight. I was the new girl, and I always would be.

Besides, when it came down to it, Randi was doing me a favor. I shouldn’t get close to Colin, and I definitely shouldn’t want him. I couldn’t afford to get too close to anyone here.

I had a plan, and I had to stick to it.

I needed this to be my home for the next three years. I needed these people to be my family, Randi included. I’d gone years having only myself to lean on. I’d had three days of support outside of myself, and I was hooked. If I screwed this up, I’d have no one to blame but myself — no drunk cousins, sick grandparents, unstable aunts or mean uncles, only myself.

I would not jeopardize my situation.

My plan was to keep it light, superficial; never let anyone get close enough to hurt me. There are two human behaviors that I knew well: pity and abandonment. I refused to let either catch me here. These people would never feel sorry for me; they would never know any reason to, and I would never,
never
get close enough to anyone to let them leave me.

****

Amber had a twelve-thirty class, which left me alone with Randi for the walk back to the residence hall.

I had firmly decided that I was going to fall in line, and now seemed like a good time to start.

"So, Colin mentioned that you almost went to fashion school in New York. That’s incredible! Have you always been into fashion?"

I thought this was a relatively successful first attempt at sucking up. Not only did I mention to Randi that Colin had spoken about her, but I also pretended not to know about her obsession with fashion in an effort to allow her to explain her interests to me firsthand — I already knew virtually everything about Randi from Amber, who loved to talk about anything or anyone. Plus, I made myself sound both awed and interested at the same time.

I smiled up at Randi. She took a moment to put the appropriate abashed look on her face, then gushed, "Colin mentioned that? Oh…it’s no big deal. You know, once I sent in my portfolio, they offered me a scholarship, and I really did think about going." She stopped and looked over at me. "You know, fashion is my life," she continued seriously, "but New York is so far away from my family and friends and, of course, Colin …"

Of course.

"But in the end, obviously," she chuckled, "being near to those I love won out."

Aw…she’s so selfless.

By the way, Randi’s a theater major. I bet she’s really good.

We’d reached the dorm now and were walking up the stairway to our hall, conceivably to part ways for the afternoon. I could only hope that my attempt at good will had the desired effect.

I turned to say goodbye to Randi when suddenly she looked at me and asked, "Are you done for the day?"

I was shocked. I just looked up at her and nodded.

"Oh," she shrugged. "Wanna go to the gym?"

I guess it worked.

****

Later that evening, Randi and Becca converged on Amber's and my room. The girls had made plans for us to go out to a party on Thursday night and were discussing outfits and hairstyles and makeup.

And I was lost.

I sat there not knowing at all what to say, having no idea how to add to the discussion. This was definitely not a world I was used to. I’d never attended a party like this before.

I felt, again, like an outsider.

They were pulling tops and skirts out of Amber’s closet, talking about things like straightening irons and bronzer and how this person or that should only wear wedges because they didn’t know how to walk in heels. It was like they were speaking a different language.

I stood to leave the room, feeling sad and defeated, when I suddenly realized that I could do this. It wasn’t as if I was ingratiating myself in a world of lies and espionage; this was gossip and lip gloss. Although I probably know more about lies and espionage than what kinds of shoes are easier to walk in, I could do it.

At the same moment I had this little epiphany, Amber noticed that I had stood up.

"Where you going, Ash?" she asked. She looked a little perturbed. I don’t think she’d even noticed until that moment that I hadn’t been involved in the conversation.

I could do it.

I walked to my closet. "Just wanted to look through my things to try and find something to wear."

"Oh! Let us help!" She looked a little too excited.

I had guessed that my lack of fashion — or hair or makeup — sense irked Amber, and I’m sure Randi, but you’d think I’d just invited her to completely make me over.

Which, apparently, I had.

Chapter Four

It wasn’t until Thursday, two days later, that I finally started to get used to my new look. The look consisted of only two additions to my daily routine: the application of mascara and lip gloss, both of which made a surprisingly positive difference to my face. However, the major change was not an addition; it was a subtraction.

Amber had cut my hair.

About thirty seconds into our search for a suitable outfit for me to wear to the party, Amber announced that I should do something different with my hair.

I’d actually been thinking along that same route for the past few weeks.

I hadn’t had my hair cut in years, and I’d never had it cut — or styled for that matter — by an actual hair professional in a real salon. The closest I’d ever gotten was my grand mom who had taken hair school classes in the 1960’s.

I considered what Amber said for a second and agreed, thinking that in a few days or weeks she’d accompany me to a nearby salon.

I thought wrong.

Unbeknownst to me, Amber was the hairstylist in residence at this particular dormitory, a fact I would have benefitted from knowing
before
agreeing with her.

She screeched and squealed and cheered and — after I subsequently tried running away — begged. Eventually, I relented, simultaneously giggling at her — and Randi and Becca’s — antics and fearing the demise of my plain, but pretty, hair.

And while all of this transpired, somewhere in the back of my head, it registered that this was exactly the way life was supposed to be lived: surrounded by laughing friends, doing crazy things and just being happy. I looked around the room at the group of silly girls, just laughing and carrying on, and I felt, for the first time, like I was truly part of a circle of friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes, but I hastily blinked them away before I was — thankfully — distracted by Amber coming towards me with a shiny set of scissors.

****

Apparently, Amber’s mother and aunt were both hairstylists back in New Jersey. They even owned their own salon, called Curl Up and Dye.

Amber had practically grown up in the salon and was actually a good hair dresser — at least that’s what Becca whispered to me as she helped me rinse my hair before the big cut.

It seemed she was right.

I wasn’t one to fuss with my hair. Opting to wear it pulled back in some fashion for the most part, my one requirement to Amber was that, when all was said and done, I could still pull it up.

"That’s fine, Ash," she whined playfully and rolled her eyes before adding, under her breath, "but you won’t want to."

I chuckled; I couldn’t help myself.

I should have been more nervous, but honestly, all I really felt was happy.

Okay, I was a little nervous, but that was just when I started seeing clumps of my hair fall all around me onto the bathroom floor.

Once Amber was done cutting, we all went back to our room so she could style me. It was then that Randi and Becca pounced. Apparently, hair wasn’t enough, we now had to work on skin.

Luckily, I have fabulous skin.

So, yeah, I was feeling a little smug about the fact that the girls had decided that I only needed mascara and lip gloss as far as makeup went. Thankfully, I was still tan from running outside all summer. I was hoping my paler, winter skin wouldn’t change their assessment.

I honestly did not believe that I could figure out all the other cosmetics they laid out on top of my desk. I had no idea which brush went with which powder or what eye color goes on which part of the eyelid. I’d never even realized that there were, like, four different distinct parts of the eyelid and each part got a different color. I’d always been under the impression that the term eyelid covered the whole area.

My three stylists laughed hysterically when I admitted that.

Late that night, when Amber was done cutting and blowing and ironing and styling and Becca had given me a beautiful light pink lip gloss that she insisted she never wore anyway because it didn’t go right with her skin tone and Randi lent me one of her tubes of mascara – she had four — until I could get to the drugstore, I finally caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror.

And, for the second time that night, I was blinking back tears.

And, for the second time, they were happy tears.

****

By Thursday night, I was getting used to the mascara and lip gloss, but I hadn’t even tried to wear my hair down, let alone in the style Amber had intended.

She had cut inches off my hair, multiple inches, but somehow she’d done it well. It hung in full layers to my shoulders. It was artfully parted to one side, and Amber had also given me long bangs that swooped to one side. The cut was pretty and flattering. It made me look sophisticated without looking older. She’d done a great job, and she was disgruntled that I wasn’t showing off her handiwork.

So she decided that it was time to show off my new ‘do. We were going to a party—my first ever—though they didn’t know it and never would.

After Becca had helped me pick out an appropriate outfit and generously lent me some accessories, Amber announced that since I’d proven incapable, she was doing my hair.

Who was I to argue?

Fifteen minutes later, I was transformed.

****

I was so excited. I didn’t fancy myself the party type, but this was a huge first for me. To make things even better, it seemed our entire floor would be attending the party, and that included Colin.

I hadn’t talked to Colin since our lunch on Tuesday — not even in class this morning. While I wasn’t exactly avoiding him, I wasn’t seeking him out either.

I did bump into him once, late Tuesday night, on my way back from the ladies' room. He was on his way to what I can only assume was the bathroom, wearing nothing but sweatpants. I’d been half asleep, but the sight woke me right up.

I remember thinking the day I met Colin that he was the most beautiful man I’d ever met in person. And that was with all his clothes on. Colin without all his clothes on was a totally different story. Beautiful was not the correct word to describe him, or maybe it was, but it wasn’t enough to describe him. Colin was beautiful, but Colin with without clothes was…striking.

It was like he stepped straight out of a magazine ad…olive skin, dark hair scattered across his muscled chest, abs, and below them that v thing you only see on movie stars, peeking out of the top of his sweatpants. It was almost unfair that he could like that and still be so nice.

Colin was seriously sexy.

He’d waved and said hi to me as he walked past, but I could barely return the greeting as I ducked into my room and closed the door. Our last conversation had been a little too serious to continue while he was only half-dressed.

I doubt I would’ve been able to string together a coherent sentence anyway.

I was truly looking forward to seeing Colin tonight. I knew we were destined to only be friends, but I wanted to ensure I kept him — at the very least — as that.

I was feeling good. Amber had blown out my hair so it framed my face. My new long, swooping bangs, along with my gold tank top, made my green eyes pop, and my excitement added a pink blush to my cheeks.

I just knew it was going to be a good night.

****

And it was turning out to be a good night — just not for me.

When I’d imagined my first college party, I did not imagine the throngs of uncontrollably drunk college students yelling at each other over the ridiculously loud radio blaring unintelligible, bad indie rock.

Naïve…I know.

I’m sure if I was one of the uncontrollable drunk kids, like my friends, I would have had more fun, but I’d never drank before, and I figured that this dark, dirty basement was not the place for me to start experimenting with new things.

Instead, I perched myself on a ledge, against a wall, near my friends, and tried to look like I was either having fun or belonged there — or both.

In truth, I felt miserable and out of place.

I watched my friends drinking and laughing and, for a moment, I seriously thought about just saying "screw it" and asking the strange little man who had appointed himself the "keg master" for a beer when, out of nowhere, Colin appeared next to me.