Different IRL

Chapter 1

College will be different my mom said. All I see are a bunch of kids lugging backpacks, some one strapping others two, hustling to their proper building. You can tell which class someone's in by how fast they walk. Some actually run. It's my freshman year of college, not high school. It looks like high school. I like to walk at a medium pace. Maybe I'll blend in this way. Either way, no one is even looking at me so I'm off to a good start. I can't help my smile.

I fell in love with this campus while researching at the last minute my senior year. And, by last minute, I mean I waited til mid-summer to decide. My mom wasn't too happy with me, but helped me out nonetheless with ordering my transcripts and setting up a meeting with the school's counselor and all that jazz. Except she isn't called a counselor. She's called an advisor, and her office is located in the student services building. Super nice lady who managed to really solidify my choice. And I had choices. I scored a 30 on my ACT. Most people drop their jaw when they hear that and some don't believe me. And here's the thing. The ones who don't believe me are the smart ones. Me scoring a 30 was a total and complete fluke. I'm not even that smart. I'm a normie. That's what the counselors at my high school call average people.

So, how I actually managed to obtain my 30 was due to a few reasons. First of all, I did study my buns off for this test don't get me wrong. First time I took a practice run I was in eighth grade. I bombed it. So, my mom bought me a ton of ACT guides, I watched YouTube videos and attended webinars. Some of that stuff helped me, but mostly it didn't. What did help was more like a person. My brainiac cousin. He taught me how to take the test. I used his tips, but there was one secret weapon that actually helped me the most. It was something I made up all on my own...guessing. I would calculate that fifty percent of my ACT results were from me simply guessing in a panic as the minutes were ticking by. See. Fluke. This doesn't happen. At least not to anyone I know. The odds of winning the lottery are better than scoring high on an ACT by guessing. I'm pretty sure.

Anyway, I ended up picking Carol College. An old private college in a sleepy little town that my mom was rooting for. I fell in love with the small atmosphere of it. Yeah buildings are spread out and it's gonna suck in winter, but I like it. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep up with the work. I want to be a paralegal. My mom is a lawyer. I've spent many summers helping her with cases so I'm already familiar with law. Well, at least family law. My father doesn't understand why I don't want to become a lawyer and chose something of lesser value, according to him. But I like the grunt work. It's fun, earns a decent living and I won't have to be a slave to the job. I think.

Anyway, I lucked out and am able to room with my best friend. Her name is Kiki. She loved her name up until that song came out and everyone kept asking her if she loved them. I'm so glad that craze is done with. So annoying. Kiki is too tough to love just anybody anyways. She's your typical bad girl. Not to be confused with a baddie. You know, those hot chicks with perfect bodies that wear skin tight clothes and look like an Instagram model without even trying? Yeah, she's not that. Kiki is kinda like an E girl. A little emo, but tougher. As in, she'll kick your ass if you mess with her. You don't want to mess with her. Besides being a blonde bombshell, she looks bad ass and is bad ass. I'm soo glad she's my bestie. Besties since birth. No one is breaking us up. Besides, she protects me or so she says.

I'm the direct opposite of tough. I can't fight to save my life. So she claims to be my bodyguard. According to her, I'm gorgeous. Pff. I'm not gorgeous. But one of her favorite things to do is walk with me. Her long, platinum blonde hair contrasts well with my long, inky black hair. She loves that. I just think it makes us look kinda like a skunk if we stand too close to one another. I shrug with my thoughts. Who knows. Maybe we do look cool? My style isn't like her biker fare. I'm a girly girl. I love pink and lace and ruffles...okay not ruffles. I only like ruffles in my potato chips.