London Falling (2 page)

“Um…aren’t those for old people?”

“No, look.” Nina pulled out her phone and opened a new screen. “There’s this guy on campus, Beau Anderson, who has this super funny blog and he just posted the Carolina Bucket List for this year’s seniors.”

“Let me see that list.” I grabbed the phone and scrolled through the blog while reading aloud a sampling of the tasks each senior should complete before graduation. “Nina, there are a hundred things on this list. Take an exam drunk. Go to a paint party. Take a spur of the moment trip. Get tickets to the Duke game. Climb the Bell Tower on Senior Day. Dance in a library flash mob. Have a picnic in the arboretum. Go stargazing in Kenan Stadium. Steal a kiss in Davis Library. This list is silly. No one actually does all of these things.”

“Yes, they do. I’m going to do as many things on there as I can before we graduate.” She said it with such undisputed assertiveness that I knew she was serious.

“Well, let me know when you get to number fifty-five, ‘feed a squirrel in the quad.’ I want to be there for that one.”

Nina punched me in the arm. “I have lab in a few minutes. Speaking of which, would you want to pick out a few of these costumes for me while I’m in class? I would really appreciate it. I can’t take trying to match another skirt and sweater set for this play.” I watched as she gathered her backpack and marched toward the stairs.

“Isn’t Candace supposed to be working on this? She’s the designer for
Spoiled Hearts
.”

“Ugh. I know, but she hasn’t been around and I don’t want to let Derek down.”

“Oh, so this if for Derek?” It was my turn to give her a hard time.

“Just do it, London. You’re so good at set and costume design. Please?”

Knowing Nina needed to get to class, I gave in like I always did to her last minute pleas for help. “Sure. What else do I have to do?” I sighed, realizing for the first time that having all of this free time on my hands might be more of a challenge than I anticipated.

“Awesome! You’re the best. See you tonight at the house?”

“Ok. We can rent that new zombie tonight. Is Candace going to be there?”

“Oh yeah, the one where they try to find a way to survive without eating brains. Sounds gross, but good. Not sure about Candace. She hasn’t returned my texts all day. Why don’t you try to call her? Bye, roomie.” Hugging her coat tightly to her chest, Nina darted up the staircase.

Candace could wait. Ever since we returned to Chapel Hill after Christmas break, she had been so wrapped up in Pearce it was as if she didn’t even live in the house anymore. I didn’t really understand why dating a football player was such a demanding job, but according to Candace, it wasn’t like everyone else’s boring relationships. Pearce needed her.
Yeah, he needed her for his personal entertainment.
Nina and I had probably been too vocal about the guy, and things with our third amigo were at best awkward when we did see her at the house on the rare occasion she resurfaced to repack and grab a change of clothes.

I repressed an inner sigh. Guys were always the root of drama. If it wasn’t a wide receiver breaking up our trio, it was Nina pining after Derek and his brilliant playwright mind. How many nights had we stayed up until two coming up with ways for Nina to tell Derek how she really felt? If he couldn’t see how she gushed over his every brilliant idea and volunteered for all of his projects, then he didn’t deserve my best friend. She had too much to offer to waste her time on a guy clearly more interested in what was happening downstage than right in front of his face.

Although, deep down I understood Derek’s passion for the theater, I wasn’t about to tell Nina. I loved being on stage more than anything. It was where I felt completely alive and calm all at the same time. Something happened every time I walked in front of an audience—I didn’t care if I was only part of the ensemble, or if I was the lead. Being on stage felt as natural to me as breathing.

Alone in the basement, I turned off thoughts of my friends and their distorted love lives and focused on the pictures in my lap. It looked like Nina was going scene by scene, pulling out potential costume options for each act in the script. It was time to divide the costume assignment among the characters to round out each one’s style in the play, rather than the scene itself.

I glanced at the clock on the wall.
Awesome.
I had at least two hours before the next group invaded the Encore Theater in the basement of Graham Memorial Hall. I tucked earbuds in each ear, hit play on my phone, and started styling for the production.

***

The blanket of snow cast a soft white glow throughout campus. It was after five, and except for the illumination from the street lamps, the quad was dark. I watched as my breath turned to a frosty cloud. Tugging on the edges of my collar, I pulled the coat closer to my neck. It was freakin’ cold.

Something about the way the fluffy snowflakes drifted through the sky reminded me of magic. When I was twelve, I played Clara in the
Nutcracker
and the snow on stage looked just like this. With one palm turned toward the clouds, I couldn’t help but reach forward to catch one of the heavy flakes. My eyes followed the quiet dissent as the cluster of flakes made their way to rest in the bowl of my hand. I was glad Nina wasn’t here to witness the smile and giddiness forming. This place was beautiful—freezing snowy wonderland and all.

“Watch out!” A voice cut through the serene stillness.

Before I could shake my momentary snow trance and sidestep the oncoming biker, I hit the cold pavement under my feet.

“Ouch.” I rubbed just below my right hip, which had taken the brunt of the fall.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry.” The frantic biker dismounted, propped his two-wheeled ride against a lamppost, and crouched next to me. “Did you break anything?” He eyed my heavy coat and scarf.

“No. I’m fine. Just a little banged up.” Startled and embarrassed, I looked at the assailant. Was I really that absorbed in a snowflake that I walked into an oncoming bike? Maybe the handlebars clipped the side of my backpack just enough to send me spiraling to the sidewalk.

His hand was outstretched and his face worried.

“My fault. Let me help you up.”

No arguments here.
He clasped my hand in a firm grip and I pushed off the ground. The biker pulled me straight up before I was ready to be vertical. I caught myself before I slipped again.

“You sure you’re ok?” He tilted his head. I noticed earbuds dangling from around his neck. He was wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt. Not exactly cold weather gear.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” I dodged his concerned look and retreated in the direction of the bus stop.

“Uh. Ok. Bye.”

As I scrambled from the scene of the accident, I thought I felt him watching me. Not wanting to get caught with a sneak peek, I waited until I crossed the street before turning around. I watched as he grabbed his handlebars, slung one leg over the side of the bike, and pushed down on the pedals.

Through a confetti parade of snowflakes, he wheeled off and disappeared behind Graham Memorial. I hadn’t even bothered to berate him for his crazy steering or thank him for taking the time to help me up. After four years of dodging maniac bikers, one had finally hit me. It was bound to happen.

A deep sigh produced another hovering crystal cloud of breath, I thought I could reach out and grab. Bike Guy had been kind of cute with his deep-set eyes and sandy brown hair. It was hard to miss his arms with that T-shirt. I shook my head. No, he was just a random guy that plowed me down on the sidewalk and saw me act like a complete idiot.

The unmistakable sound of the air brakes for my bus squeaked to an ear-piercing stop. I dashed off before I was stranded on campus for another hour. Nina was probably already waiting with pizza and zombies.

CHAPTER TWO

Professor Garcia swished a red pashmina over her left shoulder and strolled to the front of the lecture hall, letting the impact of her heels on the floor command attention.

The sudden sounds jerked me out of my dreary thoughts. The left side of the auditorium was flanked with floor-to-ceiling windows, and the only thing I could see from my seat was a gloomy gray sky and naked oak trees glistening with melting icicles. The January temperatures hovered around forty degrees, making it a miserable existence on campus for my cold-natured body.

“Welcome back, everyone! Let’s get started.” Jumping into the presentation, she pointed her remote at the smart board. “This is the day you’ve been waiting for. It’s finally here. It was a long few days, wasn’t it?” A Cheshire-like smile spread across her face. “I’m going to reveal your final project.”

Ok, this was starting to feel like student hazing in some twisted kind of academically acceptable way. The three-day buildup for the mystery assignment had manifested itself in unrecognizable nervousness in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t even get this worked up before walking on stage. Why was Professor Garcia being overly dramatic about this?

“Ok, gang. Here it is. I had a little help from last year’s class with the video.” The outlandish professor lowered the room’s lights and pressed play on the screen with the quick click of the remote.

The growing mumbles and whispers circulating in the seats around me halted once the video began to roll.

The young announcer’s voice boomed over the footage. “In today’s world, television is dominated by reality shows. But is it real? Can people really survive on a deserted island? Would you fall in love going on perfect dates? Do the wives of athletes lead the most glamorous lives? Could you convince your friends to eat roaches for money?”

I winced at the image of a scrawny, sunburned woman cramming a handful of the creepy pests into her mouth. Pictures of other popular shows flashed across the screen. I recognized scenes from
The Islanders, World Race, Matched
, and
Roommates
—all shows I didn’t have time to watch since I was always in rehearsals.

The music carried to a frenetic pitch. “Now it’s your turn to prove whether there is any reality in reality TV. Is this all just a network scheme to get viewers and money, or is it real? This semester
you
are one of these reality stars.”

The students gulped and the whispers were almost deafening.

Professor Garcia smiled and raised the lights in the lecture hall. “All right. All right. Keep the comments to yourselves. This is how it works. Using a handy little computer program, I have paired each of you with another classmate. Each pair has been assigned one of these reality shows. You will incorporate the theories from your weekly reading assignments into your final assessment of the show. At the end of the semester, you will present your findings to the class.”

She followed the steps to the top of the hall and surveyed the highest row of students, apparently still trying to absorb the assignment being thrown at them. She slammed the remote on the podium.

“I do
not
want a paper. You can write a paper in your other classes. I want you to live this. Discover it.
Be
it. Understand?”

I was certain I wasn’t the only one who had no understanding of what was going on. How could this be happening? My final grade, the one I needed to graduate, was hinging upon some outrageous project that I had to work on with some random student and was being hijacked by Professor Crazy. I didn’t even watch reality TV.

“You are probably anxious to see who your semester partners are. The pairings are listed in alphabetical order. Raise your hand when you see your name and find each other. Once everyone is paired up, I will give you your reality show. I’ll let you take the rest of the class to meet and come up with a game plan. Ready?” She paused with precision timing. “Oh, this is so exciting.”

The students stared at the white screen, waiting for their names to appear.

The presentation music started again. The first name on the screen flashed once and crawled into the left-hand column. Chuck Adams timidly raised his hand and waited for the name of his partner. The entire class turned and watched as Meredith Cruise smiled brightly, gathered her belongings, and relocated in the seat next to Chuck.

I got the sinking feeling this was like something out of
The Hunger Games
. Come to think of it, Professor Garcia would fit in nicely in the Capitol. There was nothing I could do but sit and await my reaping results. Whom was I going to end up with for an entire semester?

The roaring music drew my focus back to the screen. The next name to appear was Beau Anderson. That name sounded vaguely familiar. Before I could place where I had heard it before, the next name to flash on the screen was London James. Doing my best to catch my breath and look like this was the most natural selection process in the world, I cautiously searched the seats for Beau, whoever he was.