King Of The Court | A PSU SERIES NOVELLA

Preview

Blaire Burton

From a young age, I knew I was destined for greatness. Greatness that would leave everyone around me quaking in fear that they would eventually face a loss when it came to me. I had to be number one. I bathed in being number one. I am number one.

There is a huge misconception when it comes to me. I feel like most people don't understand that underneath the mini skirt, the lip gloss, and impeccable calve muscles that have been built after vigorous pilates and yoga classes– I am just a girl trying to make it in a failing economy.

I craved validation.

Right after high school, I struggled to pick out which college major I wanted to fall under. So at first, I went for the safest option: journalism.

The biggest mistake that I was soon to realize: everyone goes for journalism and I am not a big people person.

So then I changed my major again during the first week of my freshman year of college: economics.

My parent(s) were over the moon when they discovered their daughter would be majoring in something as practical as economics.

Economics was complex. Oftentimes during my freshman year of college, I found myself staring at the notes on a big screen during lectures with a blank stare on my face. When the professor and I would make eye contact, I would nod as if I understood everything that they were saying but holy shit– I did not understand a damn thing about economics.

Not one thing. So I scratched that plan.

My parent(s) were upset but they got over it. During this time, I met my best friend, Stevie. Stevie too was lost when it came to figuring out what the hell she should do with her life. She and I cried over a bag of Tostitos chips and a side of salsa con queso (warmed in the microwave of course).

Right then and there, I knew she and I would be inseparable. She had two things that made me realize I wasn't alone: her overwhelming love for salsa con queso and her desire to go bat-shit crazy in college.

I had this roommate during my freshman fall semester of college, Sarah, who never ended up returning after winter break. I had an open bed so I moved Stevie right in. Surprisingly, we got along splendidly. When I mean splendidly, half of the time we stayed up all night long rolling blunts, popping each other's zits, and practicing how to roll condoms on bananas.

It's embarrassing, but I went into college a virgin.

Don't worry.

That didn't last long when Stevie and I started rooming together. When we started rooming together, we decided to explore the dorms. Now, what I fucking loved about Penn State: the co-ed dorms.

My parent(s) before had wanted me to go to Liberty University. I love Jesus, but I wasn't going to pay that much for the next four years only to have a curfew and no alcohol. I wanted to party. I wanted to be wild, and I wanted to be uncaged.

It all started when I was younger.

I was that weird kid in school with the bowl cut and the straight bangs cut clear across my forehead. I wore Ralph Lauren polos and khaki pants every day until tenth grade. Every girl knows this but there comes a time in life when you stare in the mirror and point out everything that you think is ugly and you try to correct it.

Now that I am nineteen and older, I wish I could hug that fifteen-year-old and tell her I'm sorry.

But I decided what was best for me was to bring an extra outfit to school and change every single morning until I graduated. For the most part: it worked out for me. But as I grew older, I resented my parent(s) and every person around me because they held me back from being the person I knew my soul was craving for me to be.