Page 1 of Weak Side

1

Claire

Home.

The scent of pine, fresh air, and crisp autumn leaves swirled around me as I shut my eyes and breathed in the first real breath I’d been able to take in the last several months. Technically, Bexley University wasn’t really considered homebecause it was a temporary placement. It was a four-year college, and I was in my third year. I’d only lived here eight months out of the year for the last three, but still, it felt more like a home to me than the small, run-down apartment my mother and I had shared since I was old enough to remember how to leap from one end of the hall to the other without touching the rug.

I took in another deep breath, relishing in the calmness I felt staring at the athletic dorms as I rested against my old Toyota parked behind me in the student lot. It was packed with cardboard boxes full of dorm-room knick-knacks and some dance gear. I was likely the only junior that was actually looking forward to being back at college with its chaos of midnight study seshes, not enough sleep, frat parties—not that I went to many of those, if Taytum had anything to say about it—and dorm rooms that were only big enough to do a split and nothing else, but not many students at Bexley U grew up the way I did. It was an elite college, and I was never the type of girl who belonged, hence why I was here on a partial scholarship.

As if on cue, my phone pinged, and a message came in, sending my entire spine into a steel lock. I sighed, shutting the door to my Toyota with my foot.

Mom: Don’t forget the electric is due tomorrow.

I mumbled under my breath. “Oh yes, I could see how I could forget thatyourelectric bill is due tomorrow. Thank you for the reminder to pay the electric bill that I will not be using for the next eight months.”

“Talkin’ to yourself again?” My shoulder got nudged lightly by Taytum as she blew a bubble with her minty gum and popped it in my face. She didn’t let me answer as she dove in the backseat of my car to pull out a box of my things. “I wish you would just live with me in the sorority house. This whole living-in-the-athletic-dorms thing is lame-o.”

“You know I can’t join a sorority, Tay. I tried that my freshman year, and it did not go over well.”

Memories of being reprimanded by the other sisters in the sorority as if I were back home with my mom slid into my brain, and I shivered on the spot. Even though I had made it through therushingprocess, I quickly learned that I wasn’t made out to be in a sorority. Between keeping my grades up so I didn’t lose my scholarship, dance rehearsals, and auditions, plus working in my free time at The Bex—the local restaurant and bar on campus—so I could afford the other half of my tuition plus help my mom with bills, I just didn’t have the time.

So, living in the athletic dorms was my best bet, and I was fine with it. It didn’t make any difference to me.

“Yeah, but you’re like a top dog now. You can do what you want, and all the littles will do whatever you need them to do. You have seniority now.”

“I would never make an underclassman—”

“Sister,” she corrected, pushing her adapted sorority language onto me.

I laughed as we climbed the cobblestone steps to my new dormitory. “Whatever. I wouldn’t make someone else do something for me. You know that I like to do things myself.”

“Oh, yes. I know. Little Miss Independent. I’m surprised you’re even letting me carry one of your boxes for you.”

“What are you even doing here anyway?” I asked, putting my box down by my feet to pull my phone out again. I sorted through my emails, looking for my room number that had unsurprisingly worn off from the key I was given. Bexley University was one of the oldest schools in New England, and the primeval architecture wasn’t the only thing lacking in the 21st century department.

Room 213.

“I came by to snag a schedule for when the auditorium is available for practices. There’s a ridiculous number of auditions this semester and one that I know you’ll be interested in. If you get it, your tuition will be paid next year.”

I already knew of it, and she was right. I was interested.

“I grabbed you and Jaclyn a schedule.”

I sighed in relief, grabbing my box from her. “You’re the best. Thank you. Is Jaclyn living over here too? I thought she was living off campus with her boyfriend.”

“She dumped him. Oh, what room are you? Maybe you guys are rooming together.”

“I’m 213.”

Once I got to the stairs to head to the second floor, bypassing one too many underclassmen who had no choice but to live in the athletic dorms, unlike me who chose to, I realized that Tay was no longer beside me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, lifting the box up a little higher. I could hear my pens and pencils rolling around in the bottom.

Taytum’s eyebrows folded inward, and her pink lips were suddenly turned downward. “Are you sure you’re in room 213?”

“Yeah.” My voice dropped as she came closer to me. “Why do you look so concerned?” I started up the stairs, hoping she would follow. “Stop trying to get me to join your sorority. I don’t have time for that. Some of us peasants have to work, ya know.”

Taytum is one of the lucky ones, as I like to call them. You know, the ones that came from a wealthy family and had a juicy bank account that their parents liked to fill every so often so their children could focus on their academics and extracurriculars. Don’t get me wrong, though, she wasn’t spoiled. Taytum was smart, driven, and kinder than any friend I’d ever had. It drove her absolutely crazy that I’d never allowed her to pay for my coffee or—even worse—my books for the semester.

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