The Slam (4 page)

Chapter Three

ADELAIDE

Quietly, I observed the students around me, studying them so I could imitate what they were doing and saying. It was a habit of mine, something I did to help me fit in. I’ve always struggled with social cues, and I envied those folks who could be themselves around new people or when they were socially out of their element.

I’ve never been able to be that way.

I’ve always felt like I was playing checkers and everyone else was playing chess.

Much of orientation consisted of downtime between meetings, events, and scavenger hunts, during which the standard protocol seemed to be striking up a conversation with the person next to you and asking them the same question you’ve been asking everyone else.

Since Ender had informed me that no one cared about what I planned to major in, I eliminated it from my repertoire of questions. Thankfully, I had done some research on the questions most commonly asked during college orientation.

That was another habit of mine. When I plan ahead, I don’t enter blind.

So I always came prepared to deal with new environments and situations I’ve never been in.

The petulant girl to my right who’d introduced herself as Danni, asked, “What’s your major?”

“Oh.” I waved her words aside. “Both you and I know that you could give two fucks about my major. Why don’t you ask me something else?” I smiled but she didn’t return the gesture. Nor did she ask me any more questions.

Hmm.
I frowned to myself.
Did I just commit conversational hara-kiri?

Not to be discouraged, I turned to Piper, the affable girl sitting on my left. “Where are you from?” I asked her.

“Kalamazoo, Michigan,” she said. “What about you?”

“Kalgoorlie,” I answered. “It’s in western Australia.”

A burly guy from the group, Jake I believe his name was, spoke up. “I knew that. I detected your Austrian accent.”

“Australian,” I corrected succinctly. Not wanting to make him feel slighted, I added, “Although I understand it’s a minor misconception on your part that Australia is Austria.”

Danni snorted in derision. “You mean Arnold Schwarzenegger didn’t grow up wrestling crocs in the Outback and yodeling in the Australian Alps?”

The entire group broke out in laughter. I was able to pick up on this social cue and laughed along with them.

“Oh God!” Piper had a serious case of the giggles. “I
literally
just pissed myself.”

Leaning in close, I whispered, “Don’t worry. I don’t see a urine stain on your skirt.”

Silence hung between us for a moment, then she smiled as if something I’d said was beyond amusing. “I get it. You’re from Australia and you’re probably not familiar with how we say things here, are you?”

“Correct.” I nodded earnestly.

“Over here,” Piper explained, “
literally
doesn’t mean literally.”

“Hmm,” I mused aloud. “So the definition of
literally
is not the literal definition of literally.”

“Right,” she said.

“So what does it mean?”

“Well…” Piper thought about this for a second. “I use
literally
when I want to express a strong feeling. To emphasize something.”

“But that something is not literally true?”

“Yes,” she cried. “Exactly!”

“I see.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, filing away that information for another time.

“So do Aussies drink Fosters?” Piper asked. “Isn’t that what you guys call beer?”

“We don’t,” I said. “And we don’t call it Fosters.”

“So what do you call beer?”

All eyes shifted to me. I was keenly aware the entire group was awaiting my answer.

“We call it beer,” I said simply.

“Oh.” Piper shrugged. “I always thought Fosters was quintessentially Australian.”

“No
true blue dinky di
Aussie will ever voluntarily drink Fosters,” I said lightly. “Besides, Fosters is actually owned by the British brewing group SAB Miller, and manufactured in Europe. And—”

“Keep talking.” Danni let out a huge yawn. “I always yawn when I’m interested.”

Piper didn’t bother hiding the glare she cut in her direction. “Rude!”

“Who’s being rude?” Danni said in a tone of supreme boredom.

I laughed nervously.
This always happens
when I ramble on
.
They don’t need to argue on my account.
I had to quickly diffuse the situation. “Piper!” I said, forcing lightness into my voice. “Do you own a mini fridge?”

“What?” She blinked at me.

According to my extensive online research,
that
was the most popular question during college orientation. “Do you own a mini fridge,” I repeated.

“I do,” she said. “But why do you want to know? You’re not my roommate. Are we in the same dorms? If we are, you’re welcome to use my fridge any time.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t live in the dorms.”

“So you live off-campus?”

“Correct,” I replied. “With my friends Ender and Edric.”

“Shut up!” Danni shrieked. “Shut the fuck up! You live with the Hemsworth brothers?”

First she’d asked me to shut up, and then she’d asked me a question. I assumed the latter overrode the former. “Correct. I live with Ender and Edric Hemsworth.”

“No fucking way!” Danni looked like she was about to hyperventilate. “I can’t even…”

“You can’t even what?” I prompted.

Instead of elaborating, Danni palmed her face and repeated herself. “I. Can’t. Even.”

“
Erhmahgerd!
” Piper cried, tapping my shoulder impatiently. “I’ve always wanted to know, is there any relation to the Hollywood Hemsworth brothers?”

“Negative,” I said. “As far as I know, there’s no relation to Chris and Liam Hemsworth.”

“Who cares about Chris and Liam?” Danni looked affronted. “They’re not as hot as Ender and Edric.”

“Erm…” Jake scratched his head. “Who are you guys even talking about?”

“How can you people
not
know of Ender and Edric Hemsworth?!?” Danni’s expression was equal parts frustration and disbelief. “When Ender was eighteen, he was named the top-ranked junior tennis player in the world! His brother, Edric, was ranked number two. Everyone thought they’d turn pro but they ended up putting that on hold to go to Berkeley.” Her voice pitched higher. “They’re here! In this college! Can you believe it?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I can.”

Danni continued talking a mile a minute. “Ender’s topspin has been clocked at 5,000 revolutions per minute! The only other person who can do that is Nadal! Do you even know what that means?”

Jake gave a careless shrug. “I know squat about tennis.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, a Mazda RX-8 tachometer is around 10,000 revolutions per minute, so that should give you some perspective.” I smiled, and when they simply stared at me, I hastily added, “Sorry for comparing a forehand spin to a car engine.”

“That helps.” Piper smiled back at me. “I know nothing about tennis. I just know Ender and Edric are
fine
.”

“Extra
foyyyyyyyne
.” Danni began fanning herself. “
Lawwwd
, help my ovaries. Edric is hot but Ender’s my man,” she declared. “Legit. No lies.”

“No one said you were lying,” I said. After a pause, I asked, “Do you know Ender?”

“No.” Danni frowned like I was a nitwit. “But I’ve always known we were meant to be together.”

Abruptly, Tara, our orientation leader, parked her backside on an empty chair. “Get in line, honey,” she said. “And join the fucking club. I’ve had a crush on Ender for years.” She let out a dreamy sigh. “We’d make such cute babies. For realsies.”

What is happening here?
I was so perplexed. I mean, was Tara saying that she wanted to be filled with Ender’s seed? And ‘making cute babies’ just vaguely reminded me of Nazi eugenicists. How unsettling.

“So tell me,” Danni said, fixing her eagle-eyed glare on me. “Are you real close to Ender?”

“Define
close
.”

Piper leaned over and whispered, “She wants to know if you’ve seen his package.”

I was familiar with this term. “Yes, I have seen his genitalia. The three of us—Ender and Edric and me—we used to go skinny-dipping in the lake by my grandfather’s cabin. Sometimes we even showered together.”

Danni’s eyes widened like hard-boiled eggs. “I didn’t know you had
that
kind of a friendship.”

Suddenly, Tara cleared her throat loudly to get our attention. “Any of you have any questions for me?”

I was the only one who spoke up. “I do,” I said eagerly. “Can you tell us about your college experience?”

Tara thought about this for a second. “For the most part, college is what you want it to be. It’s simple, really—social life, good grades, enough sleep. Pick two.”

“Which two did you pick?” I asked.

“Me?” Tara seemed surprised by my question. “I picked social life and good grades. And good grades are hard to come by in this school. Eventually all of you will run into a vindictive asshole of a professor who wants no good grades in his class. Prepare your anus,” she said fiercely. “And on the flip side, you’ll be surrounded by a bunch of lazy, entitled students who’ve been told they’re all unique snowflakes who deserve all A’s.” She paused and looked around. “Any other questions?”

Radio silence.

“All right.” Tara clapped her hands. “I need all of you to pair up. Groups of two! We’re gonna do a scavenger hunt right now.”

My palms started getting sweaty. All through my middle and high school years, I was always the one left out while everyone else got paired up.

Though I was used to being the odd one out, it left me feeling anxious every single time.

“Hey.” Piper elbowed my side. “Wanna pair up?”

“Yes.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d love to!”

As everyone in the auditorium began to disperse, Piper cleared her throat. “So,” she hedged. “You, Ender and Edric… is it some kinky threesome thing you guys have going on?” She smiled coyly. “It must be pretty amazing to be the center of two guys’ attention.”

“What?” I squawked. “You mean like a ménage à trois?”

Her answering smile confirmed it.

“No!” I balked. “God, no! Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know.” She hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “The showering together, the skinny-dipping in the lake.”

“No, no,” I said in a shocked tone. “It’s not what you think. It was completely innocent. We did that when we were kids. We grew up together in the bush.”

“The bush?”

“We call it the scrub or the bush,” I explained. “It’s an arid and remote part of Australia. My grandfather ran a small sheep and cattle farm outside of Eugowra in New South Wales. Ender and Edric were always around and we used to play together out in the bush.”

“Ah, I see.” Piper nodded with understanding. “So you grew up on the land. The rural land. Well, I wouldn’t mention that to Danni if I were you.”

I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Why not?”

“I just wouldn’t.” Her lips curved into a subtle smile. “Let her imagination run wild. Right now, Danni thinks you’re boinking Ender or Edric.” She paused. “Likely both. And trust me, she’d love to be the meat between that man sandwich. Plus, with girls like her, the less she knows the better. It’ll keep her in line. She’ll be a lot nicer to you. Trust me.”

I trusted her, and we made our way to the exit doors, merging into the mass exodus of students filing out of the hall. “Do you know Danni outside of orientation?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Piper said grimly. “I do. She and I went to the same high school but we were never in the same clique.”

“Why not?”

“Well for one, Danni owned a lot of Juicy Couture and she liked to raise the roof.” She smirked. “I didn’t. Not my kinda thing. And let me tell you
this
about Danni—she’s like one of those mean sorority sisters who will happily circle your problem areas with a red Sharpie and mock you if you don’t have a thigh gap.” She shook her head. “And that’s being nice.”

“A thigh gap?” I said, puzzled.

“A thigh gap,” she repeated. “You know, the space between your inner thighs when you stand with your feet together.”

“Oh.” I found myself glancing down at my own thighs. “Nope,” I said, standing upright and clicking my shoes together. “Don’t have a gap.”

“Pssh! I wouldn’t worry about it,” Piper said lightly. “I don’t either. And neither do most humans.”