Cracking open your textbooks a week before classes start has to be some sort of warning sign. Caution: fragile emotional state or Caution: bored completely out of her mind.
Maybe I’d been that eager freshman year but definitely not since then. Senior year starting over at a new school… not how I planned it.
I flip the page in my new Applied Communications book and skim a couple of paragraphs before I give up and toss it aside and resign myself to death by boredom. Caution: prone to dramatics.
The last one isn’t strictly true, but it’s another side effect of being cooped up with no one to talk to. I’m all in my head with no outlet. Volleyball practices don’t even start for a few more days, so I have nothing to occupy my time.
I could call my bestie back home, Camila, but admitting how worried I am that I made a huge mistake in coming here will only make her feel sorry for me. Besides, she’s probably off having fun with our friends and teammates back at Golden U soaking up the sun on the beach. I guess former teammates now.
My current teammates, three of them anyway, are in the common room of our suite. I can hear them through the wall that separates it from our bedroom. That’s another thing I never thought I’d do again—dorm living.
I grab another textbook and flip through it without even looking to see which class it’s for. Bri’s voice gets louder and more animated and then there’s laughter.
I miss laughing. I miss talking. I miss that feeling in your chest when you’re so in the moment everything inside expands and tightens and somehow makes you feel light, too. Good conversation, I definitely miss that.
Closing the book with my thumb holding my place, like it’s really imperative I keep my spot for all the reading I’m not going to do, I rest it on my stomach and close my eyes, trying to hear them more clearly and imagine what it’d be like to be out there with them.
Bri’s voice is the only one I can make out word for word. Her high-pitched disdain carries through the thin walls, and I can picture her blunt-cut bob swinging around her face as she shakes it disapprovingly. “It’s a total waste of time. I can think of a million better ways to spend the night than prancing around in dresses as eye candy for alumni who couldn’t care less about us. They’re just here for the football and basketball teams.”
“Well, I’m excited. It’ll be a good chance for all of us to hang out before classes start. Plus, we can check out all the new recruits.”
I smile at Sydney’s retort. She’s the opposite of Bri in every way. From her long blonde hair to her sweet, gentle voice, and, more importantly, her desire, or lack thereof, to make my life as miserable as possible.
Transferring to Valley for my senior year after being kicked out of my previous school doesn’t exactly make the type of impression that beckons people to welcome you with open arms. I get that, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad five hundred miles from home. I mean, it’s not like I tried to buy my way into Valley. Technically, I didn’t buy my way in anywhere, but that’s not how the media portrayed it.
Untalented Wannabe Begs Mommy and Daddy to Get Her a Spot on Top-Ranked Beach Volleyball Team. That’s almost word for word the headline from one of the nastier writeups. They didn’t use the words untalented or wannabe, but they all but implied it by highlighting, in excruciating detail, every fault I’ve made in my entire volleyball career.
In some ways it was great that they’d focused more on me and less on my dad, the hotel mogul. He’s had a record high year. Go figure. People seem to be more forgiving of rich CEOs than of their college-aged daughters or maybe that’s just my perspective.
I had hoped that coming to Valley would be a fresh start, but Bri is standing squarely in the way of that. It’s one thing to dislike me; it’s another to make sure the rest of the team alienates me. She has made it very clear that talking to me is in direct violation of their loyalty to her and the team.
She might be a total bitch, but she is one of the best blockers in the conference. She also happens to be the captain of the Valley U beach volleyball team. Also, I don’t really think she’s a bitch to anyone but me. Overbearing, yes, but I seem to be the only person to get her full wrath.
“What are you two going to wear?” Bri asks them. “I think we should keep it simple and classy. Nothing too flashy or short. Let’s see your dresses.”
I register Bri’s request and Sydney’s footsteps too late. The door to our room flies open. I fumble with my book, open it, and pretend I’m reading as Sydney enters. Her big, brown eyes flit to me, and a guilty expression crosses her face. She gives a small smile, bites on her lower lip, and then disappears into our closet.
If it weren’t for Bri and her fiery hatred of me, I think Sydney and I could be friends. Close friends even. We haven’t spoken much at all, but I can usually tell within a few minutes of meeting someone if they’re my kind of people, and Sydney gives me all those vibes.
When she comes back into view, she’s carrying two dresses. Standing in front of our full-length mirror, she holds the first one, a short black cotton dress, in front of her. Then she drops it and holds up the other option. Her face automatically pulls into a smile at her reflection.
I admire her adventurous fashion sense with the neon pink and green band dress that shouldn’t look good on anyone but will on her because she could duct tape a neon green poster board around her body and pull it off. Sydney is gorgeous and even more so because she doesn’t seem to realize it. Long blonde hair, giant brown eyes, tall and thin with an athletic frame. She’s a knockout in anything.
“I like that one,” I tell her, giving up any pretense that I’m reading and not watching her with rapt interest. Also, I’m tired of the silence.
And I really do like the dress. Bonus that I know it’ll make Bri’s head spin. She has certain ideas about how we should look and conduct ourselves to best represent the team. I get it, kind of, but this is a college mixer we’re talking about not tea with the queen.
She’s even instituted a dress code for practices just in case anyone decides to drop in and watch, which I’m told next to never happens. But on the off chance, we’re to be in standard-issued Valley blue and yellow only. You’d think she’s the one who grew up with parents who wanted everything to appear perfect. Perfection is non-existent. She’d be happier if she accepted that. I’d offer her that tidbit if I thought she’d actually listen.
Sydney lets the dress fall to her side and tosses it on her bed. “Thanks.” It’s no more than a whisper and then she hurries out of our room carrying the black dress. I give the neon dress an apologetic smile. Poor dress. I’ve probably just ensured it never gets worn again.
Our room is set up with each of our twin beds pushed against the far walls and there might as well be a piece of tape dividing our halves for how much either of us has crossed into the other’s space. Bri and Emily share a room on the other side of the suite with a similar setup.
I shove off my bed and decide to plan my own outfit for the night. The athletic mixer is mandatory for the entire team—free drinks and appetizers, mingling with alumni and boosters. Under normal circumstances, I’d be excited about a night of dressing up and going out, but since I have zero friends here, I’m not jumping for joy about being the social leper standing in the corner all night. It’s embarrassing enough to hide away in my room, but I’ve never walked into a party alone like I know I will tonight.
I close the closet door behind me and pull the cardboard box labeled Misc Junk from the top shelf. Settling on the floor, I tug the flaps open and let out a sigh at the contents. Every overpriced piece of clothing I own is carefully folded and safely stored inside a plastic, zippered bag.
When I transferred to Valley, I thought it would be best if I left all traces of my life in California behind. It’s not like I was walking around campus in couture, but I had nice, designer brand clothes, an off-campus apartment in an area that college kids shouldn’t be able to afford, and money to blow on pretty much anything I wanted thanks to the allowance my parents transfer to my checking account like clockwork on the first and fifteenth of every month.
I don’t fancy myself some sort of saint for attempting to rough it at college by wearing cheaper clothes and only buying necessities—this is all about self-preservation, but I’m sort of proud of how easy it’s been to give up the things I thought I couldn’t live without just a few months ago.
That being said, a whirl in my favorite dress might be just the bright spot I need in an otherwise crappy start at a new school.
I lift the dress, a beautiful light pink lacy Dolce Gabbana number that is feminine and sexy, and with my summer tan still intact highlights my blonde hair and green eyes perfectly. I empty it from its protective bag, shove the box to the top of the closet, and then head back out to the room and lay the dress on my bed.
Grabbing my shower caddy, I prepare to face my roommates. There’s only one way to the bathroom, and I’ve gotta go by them to get to it.
The common living room between our bedrooms is small but comfortable. The girls already had a blue couch and a TV when I moved in. My first day in Valley, I made my initial mistake when I went out and bought a floral print armchair, a rug, and a lamp to contribute to the room. I’m sure they’d already pinned me as the spoiled princess type from the rumors and news articles, but I found out real fast that flaunting my money was not the way to win them over.
Bri sits where the armchair should be, but it’s pushed against the wall, and she’s on the floor with her back to me. Sydney and Emily are on the couch with their dresses held up in front of them. Emily avoids eye contact with me altogether, hiding behind her blonde curls. Sydney smiles and then catches herself and looks away faster than I can return the gesture of friendliness.
I’m two steps from the freedom of the hallway when Bri calls, “Are you coming tonight or is this type of thing too lowbrow for you?”
I fight back a witty and cutting remark. “Yep, I’ll be there.”
I slip out and head to the ladies’ room. Freddy dormitory is a co-ed dorm, but the guys and girls have separate bathrooms. It hasn’t stopped me from walking in on the random guy coming out of one of our toilet stalls or spotting two pairs of feet under shower stalls, but mostly, everyone seems thankful for our separate spaces.
Freddy is where the majority of the student-athletes are placed at Valley. All the volleyball girls, with the exception of a few who live off-campus, are here. Before we arrived, all of our doors were decorated with our names in cutesy cutouts that matched our sport. Volleyballs, soccer balls, tennis racquets, and so on. There’s at least one person from every sport living on my floor.
It’s busy for a Wednesday afternoon. Doors open and shut all down the hallway, laughter and conversations filtering out and giving the place a fun and party-like vibe. It feels decidedly less depressing walking the twenty steps to the bathroom than it does being in my own room.
I spot a sophomore soccer player who lives across the hall coming out of the shower with a big fluffy yellow towel wrapped around her. She’s one of the few friendly faces I’ve met, and I don’t have to force the smile that comes when she walks toward me. She’s one of those people who seems to know and like everyone.
“It’s a madhouse in here,” I say after waving hello.
“Give it another thirty minutes, and there’ll be a line for the shower. I bet the guys’ bathroom is a ghost town. They won’t start getting ready until fifteen minutes before the mixer starts.” She rolls her eyes.
“I didn’t realize everyone was going tonight. I thought it was just a few teams.”
“Ah.” She squeezes the ends of her wet, red hair. “Yeah, it’s mandatory for everyone. It’s a big deal. Lots of local media on top of the alumni and season ticket holders.”
My stomach sinks with the new information. The last thing I need is more PR. I fake excitement. “Can’t wait. I guess I better snag one of those showers before everyone else gets the same idea.”
I stand under the hot water until my skin is pink from the heat and the stress tension I’ve been carrying in my neck disappears. When I step out, sure enough, a line has formed for the showers and a dozen more girls are using the mirrors to do their hair and makeup.
With my robe on and caddy in hand, I head back to my room. I take a deep breath before I enter the suite, feeling my neck muscles tighten at just the thought of facing Bri. I relax when I find the common room is empty and the door to Emily and Bri’s room is closed.
But the tension comes screaming back when I walk into my room. Bri sits on my bed. Dark brown hair falls into her face, blocking me from seeing her expression, which I’m positive is smug. Her ass is planted on my comforter and both feet are pulled up on top of my dress while she paints her toenails a bright blood red. I’m not sure what’s more shocking—the audacity to blatantly disrespect me or her choice in nail polish color.
Sydney’s face turns a rosy shade as she glances between us. “Chloe’s back now, Bri.”
“Sorry, just finishing up here.” She takes her time giving the toes on her right foot a second coat before screwing the lid on the bottle and swinging her legs off the bed. “Oops, looks like I got a little spot on your dress. You weren’t going to wear this tonight, were you?”
My blood pressure spikes, and I feel a little woozy that her words might be true but force myself to calmly move to the bed and grab my pink dress to hold up for inspection. She wouldn’t. The Dolce and Gabbana dress was on sale, but it’s still the single most expensive piece of clothing I’ve ever owned. I bought it for a Golden team event not so different than the one we’re attending tonight. It’s so beautiful, and I’d felt just as beautiful in it. Was too beautiful.
Little red smudges mar the pink lace fabric along the bust of the dress. I clutch it to my chest and feel my eyes start to burn. “You ruined my dress.”
She laughs. “Oh, relax, Mommy and Daddy can just buy you a new one, right? Just like they bought your way into college. Twice.”
“They didn’t—” I stop myself from sticking up for them or myself. She doesn’t want to hear the truth. “Stay out of my room and don’t touch my things.” I hurry into the closet, shut myself in, and press my back against the door.
Moving to Valley might have been the worst idea I’ve ever had. I know there’s no escaping your past, but is it too much to ask for a second chance?