Sophomore Switch (13 page)

Natasha was right: Morgan is the undoubted queen of local shopping. All it takes is a morning on State Street with her, Lexi, and that emergency credit card for me to be transformed. I draw the line at anything uber-slutty, of course, but even taking into account my “must cover my crotch” rule of taste and decency, the pair of them still manage to outfit me in a complete range of skintight jeans, little polo shirts, miniskirts, and sneakers.

“I still say you need some time in the tanning salon.” Morgan assesses me again from her seat at the nail parlor.

I shake my head. “No, thank you. The dye and nails are more than enough.” My thin strawberry-blond hair is now definitely more blond than strawberry; blow-dried out in a full, straight mass. All I need is a pair of Ugg boots and a small, yappy dog, and Emily Lewis could,
“like, totally” pass for a native. If I don’t open my mouth, that is.

“Sure, if you want to look freakishly pale . . .” Lexi pipes up from my other side. She’s getting blood-red varnish painted on her toenails, to match the new lipstick she bought.

“I’m fine,” I insist.

“Maybe just go for some tinted moisturizer?” Morgan bargains. “’Cause you really do look like you haven’t been outside in, like, forever. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But those Pumas were a cool find.” Her gaze travels over me, and I get the distinct impression that she’s seeing me as a collection of parts rather than a whole person. “We made a great start.”

Start? I pretend to study my one finished hand, wondering what on earth else is in store for me. Despite the fact that my reflection is now shiny and very blond, I still don’t feel any different from the old, non-trendy me. In fact, I have to force myself not to stare anxiously at my watch as the meeting time for our film group draws ominously near.

Which reminds me that in addition to the dubious honor of being a newly owned Psi Delt Doable, I’m also not exactly riding high in my study partner’s good books.

“So,” I begin hesitantly, wondering how much warning I need, “what happened at the party the other night — with Ryan, I mean. He looked rather upset.”

Morgan pauses. “Omigod, you didn’t hear? He freaked out. It was crazy.”

“So crazy,” Lexi echoes.

“I can’t believe you missed it.” Morgan brightens, wriggling her toes in the small bowl of warm water. “It was so scandalous.”

“Because he saw you with . . . Ben, was it?”

“Right. But it’s not like we were even
doing
anything!” she exclaims. “Just hanging out. I mean, did he expect me to be a total nun?”

I think of her lunch-hour “workouts” and stay quiet.

“And technically you never said you were exclusive,” Lexi points out, her lip-gloss wand wavering midway to her mouth.

“I know!” Morgan flips back her hair dramatically. “So anyway, I was just chilling out with Ben — and there were tons more people there too; it wasn’t like we were on our
own
— and Ryan comes storming in, totally mad.” I get the sense she’s taking some dramatic license here, but she’s in full narrative flow, so never mind. “And he’s all, ‘What are you doing with him?’ So I’m like, ‘Is it any of your business?’ And he goes, ‘Uh, yes, I’m your boyfriend.’ And I just laugh like, ‘Whatever.’” Morgan finally pauses for breath. “And then he starts going on about honesty and trust, and I’m like, ‘Enough.’ Right?”

“Right.” Lexi nods.

“You were there?” I ask as the silent Chinese woman finishes my nails and retreats. I say a “thank-you” to her back.

“No, but she called me, like, minutes later.”

“It was so terrible!” Morgan demands our attention again. “I was a wreck.”

“Total wreck,” Lexi confirms, head bobbing.

“I mean, how could he be so mean?”

I blink.

“And yelling at me in front of everyone.” She pouts. “Where does he get off thinking like he owns me? I mean, that’s not how we
do
things here.”

“How do you do things?” I spy the opportunity for some inside information. “With dating and boys, I mean.”

“Oh, everything’s totally casual,” Morgan pronounces. “Like, unless you’ve been dating forever and you’ve both said you’re exclusive, then you can hook up with whoever you want.”

“But you wouldn’t, like, sleep with other guys,” Lexi adds. “That would just be skanky.” I swear I see her shoot a sideways glance at Morgan, but she seems unconcerned.

“So if I’d hooked up with Ben —
if
— then it would have been totally legit,” Morgan insists. “If I’m exclusive, I don’t cheat, but we weren’t, so it’s not cheating.”

“That makes sense.” I’m surprised at just how straightforward Morgan’s dating logic actually is. I feel a short pang of guilt for thinking she was a heartless bitch.

“I know.” She looks at me as if to say, “Keep up.” “Ryan was just mad I blew him off to go to the party in the first place. And he loves the drama. Like, I swear he’s just playing out this big script in his head, and I was around at the right time to be the main part.”

“He is rather . . . devoted to film,” I agree.

“Try totally obsessed!” Morgan says. “Like, I figured it was cute to begin with. He was totally sweet and treated me so good, and after what happened with Casey —”

“Oh god, Casey!” Lexi squeals.

“Right!” Morgan catches my confused expression. “You don’t even want to know. Psycho.”

“Oh.”

“So I just wanted someone nice, you know? But not
serious.
And we’ve only been dating since, what, Christmas?”

“About then.” Lexi pulls her shoes back on.

“So you see, it’s no time at all.”

As we gather our things, I make mental notes of these new rules. Casual. Dating. Non-exclusive.

“So you want to get a frappe?” Morgan pushes her oversize sunglasses on.

“I could totally go for a mocha.” Lexi does the same.

“I can’t, I’ve got . . .” I catch sight of the time again. “Oh no, I’m late! I was supposed to meet my film group half an hour ago!”

“Chill, it’s only a project.” Morgan shakes her head at me. “Seriously, you need to lose this stress. It’s not good for you.”

I take a breath. “I know.” I knew so much that I was willing to make myself over as Beach Barbie in order to hopefully gain some perspective.

“So a frappe, then.” Linking her arm through mine, Morgan steers me onto the bright sunlit pavement. “And then you can go to your project and report back how Ryan’s doing. I bet he’s a mess.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Ryan regards me with narrowed dark eyes when I finally turn up, two hours late.

“What do you mean?” I twist a piece of my newly blond hair around a perfect nail and wait for some reaction to the change of style. But Ryan just hoists the camera case onto his shoulder and begins walking toward the car park.

“You ditched our first meeting yesterday.”

“Sorry.” I look around, wondering how much I’ve missed. “I thought you could handle it.” Plus the little fact I was deep in rom-com wallowing after the party.

“Yeah, well, you were the one who insisted on it in the first place.” Ryan picks up speed so I have to hurry after him. “It was a total waste of time.”

I ignore his tone. “How far along are we today?”

“Nowhere. People only just started showing up.”

I brace myself. All right, two hours behind schedule isn’t terrible. And at least they haven’t done anything wrong in my absence that would require repeating. “So what are we doing outside? The car-park shots weren’t down until next week.”

“I changed the timetable.”

“You what?” I can’t help myself screeching. That schedule was a work of art: logical, neat, and with plenty of space for contingencies. It took me five drafts before I had it perfect.

Ryan shrugs. “These things happen. I figured we’d be better starting with the establishing shots — let the actors have some time with the script. This way, the camera guys get to grips with the tech side. And since you were late . . .”

I take a breath. Remember: you are a calm, go-with-the-flow kind of girl now.

“OK,” I agree slowly.

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

His confusion is reward enough. “That’s it,” I say sweetly. “Good idea. Do you need help carrying anything?”

“No, I’ve got it.” Frowning, Ryan comes to a halt in front of a small gaggle of students from our class. “You know everyone, right? Lulu, AJ, Keith, Maura. The other actors are starting tomorrow.”

“Hello.” I try a casual nod and make sure to smile at them all, as if I haven’t already Googled each person and assessed their strengths and weaknesses from various class contributions.

We start to set up: the tech guys, AJ and Keith, taking obvious pride in the shiny new equipment while Lulu and Maura faff around doing absolutely nothing. I edge over to them.

“I don’t know,” Maura is musing, sitting cross-legged on the low wall. “The L’Oréal always dries my ends out.”

Lulu nods, playing with the frayed edge on her jeans. “I have to put the serum on before conditioning; it totally locks the moisture in.”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Hi, Lulu, how are you?”

Lulu blinks at me, her blue eyes wide. “I’m good. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Have you run lines yet?”

“But we’re not shooting till tomorrow.”

“Right. But we won’t have much time, because
of classes, so we need it to be perfect straightaway,” I explain. “And since you’re already here . . .”

“OK.” She shrugs. “But Peter is busy.”

“Well, I’m sure Maura could help you out.” I wonder just how incompetent these people are.

“But I didn’t bring my script.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have spares!” I pass them each a folder.

“Oh. OK.” She begins flicking listlessly through the pages.

“Why don’t you start with tomorrow’s scene?”

“Sure.” Lulu turns to Maura and begins reciting while I find a spot to sit nearby. From this vantage point, I can keep an eye on everyone, so I pull out my black binder of all knowledge and wait for somebody to do something wrong.

By the time we’re finished with the shots, I’ve learned a vital new fact that may well save my sanity. Either that or it will drive me utterly insane — I haven’t decided yet. Ryan is a perfectionist.

“Can we please go?” Maura whines while our director sets up for another sweeping panorama of the asphalt. “We’re not even in these scenes, and it’s been hours!”

“OK,” I agree, but can’t help reverting to my old self. “Just meet us on time tomorrow. And check your schedules for props and costume, everyone!” I add as the other crew members take my cue to quickly disappear. I walk over to Ryan. “Have you got it yet?”

He keeps his head down, glued to the display. “Just a couple more.”

“You know, these were only supposed to take an hour.” I begin to gather the folders they’ve all abandoned nearby.

“It takes as long as it takes.”

Fifteen minutes later, my patience is wearing a little thinner. Usually I can admire anal attention to detail, and it’s not that I have anywhere else to be, but I can’t help thinking that this is setting a dangerous precedent: my precious schedule is under threat.

“That’s enough,” I say in a pleasant voice, moving so I block the shot. Ryan looks up, glaring, but I refuse to be swayed. I carefully make sure everything has been saved and stored, and reach over to turn off the camera.

“But —”

“You got the shot,” I assure him. “You got the shot five times over, at the very least.”

Ryan lets out an irritated breath, eyes clouding over. “You can’t just —”

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” I stand my ground. “Because we’ve only got a few weeks for filming, not forever.”