Private (Private 1)

She looked at me expectantly. “Yeah. Me neither,” I said, forc-

Her Irish accent was really bad.

ing a smile.

“ ‘You have some of the most gorgeous Irish skin I’ve ever seen.’

I followed her out the door, wishing I felt half as excited and He knew I was Irish! Just from looking at me!”

confident as she did. Unfortunately, I had already seen the girls on Apparently Bono was neither blind nor stupid. After all,

our floor. Seen them chatting on their cell phones, folding their Constance had the requisite thick red hair. The freckles. The green two-hundred-dollar jeans, toting their Kerastase hair products

eyes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had Erin Go Bragh tat-into the bathroom, and I already knew that I was in over my head.

tooed across her ass.

And they all seemed as if they already knew one another. They

Except that she was too wide-eyed and perky to be the tattoo type.

approached one another easily and talked like old friends—as if

“So of course I asked him to pose for a picture with me and of

they had all lived here together their entire lives, cultivating private course he did. My friend Marni took like a hundred of them—”

jokes and creating a specific style that I would never be able to

“Really? Do you have them?” I asked, trying to make an effort.

match, having come to the game so late. There wasn’t a single item There was at least a five-second pause as Constance turned her

in my closet that wouldn’t make me stick out like a Podunk loser—

back on me and dug through her pink satin jewelry box—so long

a Wal-Mart frequent shopper.

18

K A T E B R I A N

I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t kno

w how to chat and tell secrets and be friends. No classmate of mine had been inside my house since I was eight. I didn’t do birthday parties or slumber parties or anything else, and as a result no one at my old school knew anything about me. Which was just the way I wanted it. I had made THEM’S THE RULES

that choice back when my mother had first begun her long and continuous downward spiral. To protect myself. To protect other

people from her. And it had worked all this time. Not a soul outside my immediate family knew my secrets.

What I had never realized was that after seven years of antisocial The meeting was being held in the common room on our floor—fifth behavior, I had rendered myself incompetent. Incapable of

floor, Bradwell. The U-shaped hallway of our dorm terminated at teenage normalcy. I was a sorry excuse for a girl. And no matter each end with a door to the common room. Beyond this room were

how much I wanted to, I was starting to wonder if there was any-the elevators to the lobby, which meant that in order to get to your thing I could do to change. If there was anything I could possibly room you had to walk through the common room and take one of the do to make people want to get close to me. Especially these people.

two doors to your side of the building. When I had come through ear-Less than five hours at Easton and I was already fairly certain my lier, the well-worn couches and chairs had been placed all around the girlfriendless drought would continue.