And Then There Were Five

The Sore Thumb

KAMYA

Five years of choosing art over a social life in high school and the first year of college has brought me here: a full scholarship to Earhart, and yet, a friend group reluctant to include me. 

I don't necessarily mean that Elinor and Valencia are bothered by me, but the boys...well, they probably stuck around for Valencia and Elinor and I was the little sibling that had to tag along. Although, I do admit, riling up Jagger on the daily is my favorite form of entertainment.

Truly, I don't mean to be a burden--I just don't understand how to lighten up. My entire world as of this point in my life has been oil pastels, canvases, paint, and any awards and accolades it can bring. My room back at my parents' house basically stands as a shrine in my absence, but with no outlook of going home anytime soon, I should be allowed to do as I please so long as I don't threaten the status of my scholarship, right? After all, Valencia rushed in Greek Life against her mother's orders, an for the past week, it's all she's been able to talk about. I haven't seen her this happy about something since she won $67 on a scratch-off lottery ticket at a 7/11 station five miles from campus last winter. 

But I'm not the sisterhood type. I've never even had a biological sister. Just two brothers--one older and one younger. Frankly, maybe I'm feeling a great sense of middle child syndrome. Maybe I should just get a grip--

"Something on your mind?" Valencia calls from her side of the room.

Even though I know for certain that I'm the least favorite of the friend group, it seems that Valencia has always been able to tolerate me the most. She must at least halfway enjoy my company considering we are roommates for the second year in a row. "Not really," I lie. "Just feel boring."

"You mean bored?"

I shake me head. "No, I feel like I'm boring."

Her hesitation tells me that she doesn't wholeheartedly disagree. "Look, you're not boring. You have a unique personality compared to the rest of us and you're extremely talented artistically. That is not boring." Then she releases a held breath. "However...you do tend to be a little dull sometimes, but I think it's only because you devote all your energy into your art."

She isn't wrong. "But art projects aren't tasks to me," I counter. "It's like...a temporary escape. Like I get to create a world where I don't stick out like a sore thumb, and not in a good way."

Valencia has never been the pep talk kind, but since joining a sorority and having to play nice with nearly ninety new girls, she's come to be more willing to hear people out on things--and it's kind of nice. "You can veto this if you'd like--"

"Veto," I whisper, smiling at her slyly.

She only rolls her eyes. "See. That's your personality, now let me finish. I was going to say, if you wanted to give going out for the night a try, there's a party on campus after the first round of fraternity rush tonight. You should come with me!"

The word veto, again, is on the tip of my tongue. But I fight the urge to say it. Weighing the pros in cons, I find that a refusal would either be an outright lie in my reasoning or a cop-out. I have no homework, the weather is nice, I won't be alone, and I'm a night owl anyways. Why not? "You can't leave me to fend for myself while we're there," I say as a way of acceptance.

"I won't. I swear!" Valencia practically squeals, wrapping me up in a hug and forces me to jump up and down with her. When we finally come back down to earth, she grips me by the shoulders as if she just remembered something very important. "If we go to the one at PIKE, it won't just be the two of us there."

I put a hand to my head, resisting the desire to roll my eyes and complain. I forgot that was Jagger's fraternity house. "How pleasant," I grit out.

Valencia does some mental math at my reaction, then shakes her head. "No, I didn't mean Jagger. I mean, yeah, he'll be there, but that wasn't who I was referencing." She fruitlesly battles a smile that inches along the corners of her mouth. And then, she says the one name I never would've expected to come out of her mouth.

"Archer."

+++

"This is ridiculous," I say as I stare at myself in the mirror.

I had begged Valencia to let me wear one of her new sorority shirts, but apparently, if you're caught drinking in your letters, you can get your ass beat. Instead, Valencia stuffed me into a black leather skirt and a red bodysuit that had a deeper neckline than I would normally wear. 

"Can you drop it in this?"

My eyes practically bug out of my skull. "Can I what?"

"You know," Valencia encourages, smiling uncomfortably. "Drop it. Try twerking and see if you flash anyone--"

"What in God's name makes you think that I of all people know how to twerk, let alone be twerking at this party?! And anyways," I huff, shutting my eyes. "Why am I in red and black while you're in all white?"

Valencia moves to brush the setting power off of her face and answers back, "Nearly every frat party has a theme. This one is angels and demons. You may look like the slutty one between the two of us, but what you don't know is that frat houses use blacklight. You'll be hidden in the dark and I'll be the one glowing."

I let it sink in that I'm going out like this, even if concealed in darkness once I'm there. It almost feels like a subdued torture mechanism, but I've come this far, I suppose. "Okay," I sigh. "I hope you're not setting me up for further embarrassment."

"No way," she vows, gesturing for me to sit down in my desk chair. "You'll do great. Need any help with your makeup?"

I throw her a shady glance. "I'm an art student on a full ride. Watch me work my magic."

+++

Much like Elinor, I am a woman of secrets, myself. Although hers is certainly heavier and heart wrenching, I'd like to think that my own has substance as well. You see, I love art--truly, I do. I even love that it had my college paid for.

But my secret love of art comes from the idea that I can transform the skin as if it were one of my own art canvases. I can either accentuate the parts of me that the world deserves a better look at, or I can completely enhance myself to come across as an entirely different person. It's all in my control, and it certainly receives less criticism than my physical pieces do.

Straightening out my clothes and taking a deep breath, I force myself to look at my reflection. 

Valencia is nodding her head in approval, a bashful grin on her lips.

I, too, am pleased at what greets me in the mirror. With this outfit and the makeup, I almost convince myself that someone with double my confidence is going out to a party. "Yes," I decide aloud. "Much better. I'm ready."