“Good. Now let’s go eat.”

Girls love it.

7pm

After dinner, I head to the auditorium for my costume fittings. I have four different outfits to wear in the play, which means I’ll get called four different times.

Aiden agreed to meet me here for tutoring and I find him sitting in the back row.

I pull a little present out of my bag. It looks so cute. I took white paper and stamped black Eiffel Towers all over it and then tied it with a pink and black striped ribbon.

“What’s this?” he asks when I hand it to him.

“It’s sort of to congratulate you for applying yourself in French. I ordered it after you passed your first test and it just came in. Open it.”

He tilts his head and eyes me. “It’s not going to explode or anything, is it?”

“Very funny.”

He pulls the ribbon off the package, rips the paper off, and reads the book’s cover. “Dirty French: Everyday Slang from What's Up? To F--- Off. Very nice.” He flips through the pages and nods his head. “I can see that this will come in quite handy.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He holds open a page that lists numerous ways to ask for sex in French.

“You’re not supposed to use it to get girls to sleep with you,” I huff. “I didn’t even know all that was in there. I got it because that day in class . . .” Shit. Now I feel stupid for getting it for him. I thought he’d get a kick out of it, not use it to pick up girls.

He touches my arm and finishes my sentence. “When we were talking about cussing in French. I love it. Thank you.”Keatyn Monroe.

“Shoot, I have to go try on my first costume. Here’s my homework, if you want to work on it. I shouldn’t be too long. Are you sure you have time to wait?”

“I’m sure,” he says. “I’ll start working.”

After I finish the first fitting, I sit back down next to Aiden. His head is down and he’s writing in his French workbook. He’s taken his school blazer off and has rolled up his oxford’s long sleeves.

The four-leaf clover he showed me before the Homecoming game is still on his forearm.

I touch it and say, “Won’t come off, huh?”

“I haven’t tried to get it off. I’m hoping it will help me get lucky.”

I rip my French notebook away from him. I didn’t mean to pull it away quite so hard but the thought of him using my four-leaf clover to get lucky with a girl pisses me off for some reason.

I look at him with disgust.

“Figures you’d twist its use for something like that.”

He gives me a little smirk. “Between the lucky four-leaf clover and this dirty French book, I should be set. Girls love it when you speak to them in French. They think it’s such a sexy language.”

“French is a sexy language when you don’t butcher it.”

“Most girls don’t know any better. Why do you think I took French to begin with?”

“That’s why?” I am appalled.

He chuckles at me. “It is.”

“Give me the book back,” I say, holding out my hand.

“Nope. In fact, I learned a couple things while you were gone.

“And what’s that?”

“Rouler des pelles.”

“French kissing?”

“Yeah, isn’t that kind of funny? They don’t call it French. And the word for kiss is baiser.”

“That’s because it’s slang. Translated literally it means rolling shovels. Open your mouth.”

He looks at me funny, but complies.

I laugh. “So you do have a tongue.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m just surprised that you chose French kissing as your first slang word when you don’t do it.”

“I French kiss. I just didn’t kiss you like that. What’s the got to do with rolling shovels?”

I stick my tongue out at him. “See the shape?” I draw the outline of my tongue with my finger.

“I guess it is sort of shaped like a shovel.”

I make my tongue do a version of the wave. Rolling it up and down.

“You have a talented tongue,” he says with a laugh.

“You have no idea,” I say with a smirk. I’m going to add, And you’ll never find out, but I’m interrupted.

Keatyn Monroe.

“I have to go.”

I get my second costume fitted then go sit back down. Aiden is still here with the book in his hand.

“I found a few more words you might like. If you’re cool with it.”

“I hung out with French surfers half the summer. I don’t think you’re going to shock me.”

“T’exploser.”

“Pound.”

“Tringler.”

“Screw.”

“Hammer wasn’t in here.”

“You want to hear one that cracks me up?”

“Yeah.”

“Enfourner mon pain.”

“Bake my bread?”

Keatyn Monroe.

I laugh. “Think about it. I’ll be back.”

After my third fitting, Aiden is smiling at me and holding up the book. “That one was in here. It means, Put it in your box. But it literally means, Put my baguette in the oven.”

“I know. The guys we hung out with in France this summer used that one a lot. It just cracked me up that were comparing themselves to a baguette.”

“Well, they are long and hard.”

I can’t help but smirk and laugh at him. “Yeah, exactly. Learn anything else?”

“La chatte.”

“Pussy. It sounds prettier in French, don’t you think? Like, not as dirty.”

Aiden bursts out laughing.

“What?”

“I could so make a comment about dirty pussy, but I will refrain.”

I smack his shoulder. “Gross, Aiden. How about la touffe?”

“Oh, I saw that one.” He scans through a page. I see he’s already written in the book. Marked it all up.

“Muff.”

“Yeah, but translated, it means, the tuft.”

“I can see why you need to know the slang. I mean think of all the normal words we use that aren’t sexual, but said right, have that meaning.”

“Like your hammering, pounding, nailing, screwing?”

“Exactly. That’s just basic carpentry.

Keatyn Monroe.

“Saved the best costume for last, huh?” Aiden says to me when I’m finished with my last fitting.

“Figures you would like the cheerleading costume, seeing as it’s pretty skimpy.”

“T’es super sexy comme ca.”

“I looked super sexy like that, huh?”

“Well, all your costumes for the play are nice. Do you like them?”

“Yeah. The ball gown for the big dance is kind of lame.”

“You don’t like the ball gown?”

“Let’s just say it’s not what I would wear.”

“What would you wear?”

I know my answer right away. It’s the dress that I pictured in a dream.

“I had this dream once that I wrote down. The dress in it was gorgeous. The most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen. That’s the dress I’d want to wear.”

He grins at me. “Tell me about it. And the dress.”

“Okay, so you fade in on a beach that’s bathed in moonlight. A young prince is riding down the beach on a white stallion. A girl is also on the beach. She’s wearing a gorgeous pink strapless gown with a corseted waist. The skirt of the dress is layer upon layer of pale pink ruffles. Her hair is half-up, the rest is cascading in curls onto her shoulders. A tall, dark man dressed in a black suit has a hold of the princess’ wrist and is dragging her up the beach to the dragon’s lair. The Princess yells, Help! The Dark Man says, No one is going to hear you scream. But the Prince does hear her scream. He turns his horse around and gallops toward the noise. He sees the girl. And instantly falls in love. He’d do anything to protect her. He jumps off his steed and pulls out his sword. Fights the Dark Man to the death. Then he turns his attention toward the princess, who was knocked to the ground in the scuffle. The Princess turns to face her rescuer and she recognizes his handsome face. That’s it. It’s just a short scene.”

“It’s amazing. So who was the Prince? How did she know him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know yet. It came from a dream I had. When I dreamed it, I felt that she knew him. That she recognized him. But I didn’t see his face in my dream.”

“You need to figure it out. Finish the story.”

“Yeah, maybe. Hey, so I’m done.” I glance at my phone. “I’m going to see Dawson for a little bit before curfew.”

Three slutty girls.

10:45pm

I stop off to give Dawson a goodnight kiss after my fittings. Well, a couple kisses, then head to my dorm before curfew.

I’m studying my lines when I get a text from his little brother.

Braxton: I stopped cussing for Lent.

Me: It’s not Lent.

Braxton: Haha. I know. So, my brothers suck.

Me: Do I dare ask why?

Braxton: Dirty girl. They suck cuz they won’t help me with girls. I think they’re afraid I will learn too well and they won’t have a shot when I’m around.

Me: I think you might be right about that.

Braxton: Tell me what girls want.

Me: I think that depends on the girl. Also depends what kind of girl you want.

Braxton: Right now, I’d like a trio of slutty girls. All naked together in my room with nothing to do but me.

Me: Let’s try to deal with reality.

Braxton: I was. I originally wanted a harem.

Me: Fine. Three slutty girls it is.

Braxton: Actually, what I need is experience.

Me: Dallas told me a really fun pickup line a while ago. It totally would have worked on me. And you’re funny. You could probably pull it off.

Braxton: What was it?

Me: He goes, “Did you have Lucky Charms this morning?” And I was like, “No, why?” And he said, “Cuz you look magically delicious.”

Braxton: That’s brilliant.

Me: He also used to have the Psychic Panty Network. He’d guess the color of a girl’s panties. He was shocked by how many girls offered to prove he was wrong. Some even donated their panties. That’s when he started Panties for the Poor. That didn’t last very long though. Then he started trying to guess cup size. He got talked to by the school about that. (Sexual harassment, or something.) Now he’s on to pickup lines.

Braxton: Tell him I totally worship him. And text me his next pickup line.

Tuesday, October 11th

Arrested or hospitalized.

7am

I hate getting up at the crack of dawn for Social Committee meetings, but I always try to dress especially cute for them. It puts me in a better mood.

Today I have a sweet and innocent look. I’m wearing the longer navy pleated skirt, a white Burberry stretch cotton tie-neck blouse, and my red cardigan. With it, an amazing pair of navy Prada gold-studded platform sandals, a gold Proenza Schouler suede bag, and a preppy Juicy Couture red and navy striped headband with a golden crest.

Brad stands up in front of us and says, “Well, I think it’s safe to say that the Homecoming after-party was a huge success. The staff loved not having to worry about or chaperone us. No one was arrested or hospitalized. And the students all seemed to have a blast. I know I did.”

Everyone starts talking about the party. About how much fun they had.

Finally, Brad raises his hand in the air. “Because of its success, people are expecting big things from our first themed weekend. I’m a little worried about it being held in conjunction with the Prospective Student Weekend. We’re going to have to keep things very clean, but still make it fun. Peyton, you want to share what we’ve got roughed out so far.”

“Sure,” Peyton says while she consults the notes on her laptop. “Saturday day will mostly be the Olympic-style competitions. Logan is working with the athletic department to organize all that. We’ll have some fun, easy games that everyone can participate in. Some events for teams.” She turns to Logan. “Logan?”

“Well, I think games that everyone can play is fun, but if we want to go authentic, there should also be a competition for our elite male athletes.”

“You do know that the original elite male athletes competed in the nude?” I say to Logan.

Not that I’ve researched that sort of thing.

Logan gives me a dirty look.

“What? You’re the one that wants it to be authentic. I’m just trying to help.”

Whitney, surprisingly, takes up my cause. “We’ll clean it up and make them compete shirtless. And they must wear white all weekend so they are easily identifiable as the elite Olympians.”

Logan looks to Brad for help.

Peyton decides to add her two cents worth. “It would impress the female half of the prospective students and give the male half something to aspire to. What kind of competitions will you have?”

Logan goes on. “In Greek history, it’s said that the Olympics were started to entertain the newborn Zeus. They had wrestling, jumping, and running competitions. I think we should focus on those.”

“Oh,” I say. “And the winner will be declared an Olympian god, and we will wear togas to the feast in his honor and celebrate with Greek food, song, dance, and, hopefully, a little mead.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Peyton says, entering the details in her laptop, which signifies to us all it’s a done deal. “What about Friday night?”