The Alpha For Her

“I understand,” Jennifer said, nodding. “I have spent my life coming to terms with my body. And when I finally think that I have an image of myself that I can accept and like, someone gives me one of those looks, and all those adolescent insecurities come crashing back in.”

“You have a lovely body,” Candy said.

“You just want to get me in bed.”

“I do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“I know. But I can dream.”

“That’s just it,” Jennifer said. “This whole thing. It feels like some kind of a dream. But then I think that it’s a set up where only the strong will survive, or something like that.”

“Just like the drubbing we got for last night,” Candy said. “But, I say, that if it is a set-up, we should all throw it back in their faces and enjoy ourselves.”

Jennifer looked at her.

“If, however,” Candy added, “it is not a set-up, and there truly is a pot of gold at rainbow’s end, then we should go for that – enjoying ourselves along the way.”

“You know,” Jen said, “I have a friend back home who said something almost exactly like that.”

“Your friend must be very savvy. Is she British?”

“No, she’s a true Yankee, through and through.”

“Damned minutemen.”

“I like that advice,” Billie said, kicking her legs and making waves in the still pool. “If we go home failures, at least we could say that we had a great time. If we succeed, and have a great time, then all the better. It won’t matter what people think.”

“We say that,” Jen said, “until we see what they’re thinking in their eyes.”

“True. So, let’s just avoid eye contact.”

Jenny joined in Candy’s laughter – then she had a thought.

“My fingers are beginning to prune,” Billie said.

“Mine too,” Candy said. “And my stomach is growling. I expect that we might have lunch served here.”

“Guys,” Jennifer said standing up.

“Well,” Billie said. “We can get it in our rooms.”

“Guys.”

“Oh look,” Candy said. “I see a phone at the bar.”

“Guys,” Jennifer said, splashing the water. “I got it – I got it! Listen; everyone is going crazy right now trying to think about the ways that a college freshman could figure out their course load, and the ways to make that easy.”

“I thought that was the challenge,” Candy said.

“Right. But, everyone is thinking about majors and requirements, and ways to make a website idiot-proof. But that’s not what your average freshman wants. With a very few exceptions, they have no clue what they want to major in.”

“That’s why,” Billie said, “we were talking about consolidating areas so that requirements–”

“What is the most important thing in your first semester at school?” Jennifer asked

“Boys?” Billie said.

“Girls?” Candy added.

“Parties?”

“Bingo,” Jen said with a smile. “They want to fit in. They want to be with people who are like them. So, in addition to all that other crap everyone else is doing, we set up a page that shows them what percentages of boys take this class, what percentage of girls take that class, gays, lesbians, feminists – whatever labels we can come up with. See, your average Emo isn’t going to know what British poetry course their cohorts would take.”

“Thomas Carlyle,” Candy said with a shudder. “Bleak. But I think that the Russians had a corner on that market.”

“So,” Jen said, “when Emma Emo sees that people like her are taking Russian poetry, that’s where she goes.”

“But,” Billie said, “isn’t that a lot of work?”

“It doesn’t have to work,” Candy said. “Mr. Dryzek just wanted a design. Let the programmers handle the rest. I like it. Of course, it stands little chance for success, but, we’ll stand out.”

“Let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it.”

“For our Emo girl,” Jennifer said.

Candy and Billie near leapt out of the water. Jennifer hung back.

“Um,” she said. “Can you guys find me a towel?”

“It’s eighty degrees out here,” Candy said.

Then Billie cupped her mouth to hold her chortle, and pointed.

“Jennifer,” Candy said, “you are not wearing a bra. Feeling a bit nippely, are we?”

“Just get me a towel, please.”

They were alone at the pool as they sat to lunch, and began, industriously enough, going on-line and trying to discover the most popular courses in the American college system. But they quickly saw that they varied wildly by campus, realizing that popularity ranged by school mission, and professors. So they began making things up.

“Eighty-two percent of Women’s-Studies majors took Gertrude Stein.”

“Make it eighty-seven.”

“Ninety-percent of Star Wars fans took Astronomy one-oh-one.”

“And, Chinese philosophy; Yoda, and the Art of War.”

That got them laughing. And that got them silly.

“Seventy-two percent of closet lesbians studied the Nancy Drew Mysteries.”

“Eighty-one-percent of gender-confused students took Logic.”

“Why?”

“They’re just confused.”

“Guys, guys look,” Billie said. “There’s this site with actual college courses. Listen to this: Alien S*x: explore the weird, wild, and depraved cinematic scenes…”

The three roared with laughter.

“Let’s see that site.”

“Purity and Porn in America.”

“The Science of Superheroes.”

“The Joy of Garbage?”

The table became a giggle-fest as they read, and Jennifer tried to compose on her laptop.

“Enjoying yourselves, ladies,” Flint asked, pulling up a chair.

Jennifer thought that she should feel mortified, or even a little ashamed. But the giggles had the three, so that all she could do was nod along with the others.

“Getting any work done?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Candy said, finding control of herself. “We’ve chosen to go at the problem in a unique, and amusing way, but, one which will meet all of your criteria.”

“So I see. May I see?” he asked, reaching for Jen’s laptop.

Jen stopped mid-laugh.

“Absolutely not,” Candy said, slapping his hand away. “This is proprietary. And besides, even the hint of a frown from you would send us into a tailspin, and we’d lose all of our momentum.”