I
seem to have an ever-revolving door of roommates as I’ve been placed with five
so far. The first, Amanda, switched to Summit mid-summer. The second, Bridgette
something, never showed up on move-in. Colleen was the third, and also the
alleged bulimic. Asia was the fourth and probably bathed three times in the two
weeks before she transferred to a community college “closer to home.”
And
the fifth I have yet to meet. I just know she exists because the other side of
the room is decorated in zebra and pink with a Marilyn Monroe poster.
I
usually reserve judgment, as I try not to be a catty girl, but I can’t help but
feel slightly anxious with the combination of zebra and Marilyn. From
experience, the combination translates to a fake-baking platinum blond
cheerleader.
I
was never one of those girls.
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