FAUX REAL

7

Pretend to date? That lunatic actually suggested that? Like it was completely normal? Like she was asking to borrow a bloody pencil? Who asks of such a favor of someone they barely even know, let alone like? Crazy Lisa. That girl has several loose screws in that pretty head of hers.

The fact she was able to ask for a favor and insult me in the same breath is astounding, yet I'm borderline impressed by her brazen negotiating tactics. But unfortunately, I don't have time in my schedule for petty drama. I just need to survive the next ten months then I'll be set for life. Just ten months of keeping my head down. Shouldn't be hard to do since Mycroft County is the epitome of boring.

I don't need her help. What kind of trouble can I even get into if there's nothing to do? It's like my parents sent me to the most inactive city in America. Probably on purpose. They knew that this place would slowly kill me. Drain my will to live.

No friends? No acquaintances? Nobody. Not that I need friends. I have friends. They just happen to be halfway across the world.

I twist open the handle to my dorm room, hoping I'll finally get some alone time. But instead, the cruel hand of fate has delivered me a supposed flatmate in the form of a young girl that little shorter than me with light brown hair and tattered clothing. For Christ's sake. I thought I wouldn't have a flatmate. There was no one here earlier.

This is a nightmare. Truly. Can this day get any worse?

"Oh, hey. Didn't hear you come in," she says, adjusting records on her side of the room, her brown eyes scanning my face intently. "You must be jennie ruby jane. I'm jisoo kim. Nice to meet you." She holds out her small hand towards me.

"Hey," I say casually, walking past Jisoo and plopping down on my bed, my gaze scanning her vinyl collection. Not bad. "I thought I didn't have a flatmate."

"Sorry about that." She sucks in a sharp breath as she saunters towards my side of the room, her eyes sweeping across the various cameras I positioned on the floating shelves. "I had to cover a shift this morning so I missed homeroom, I just got here a few minutes ago." Her hand reaches out towards my vintage Canon A-1 camera.

"Don't touch that," I state flatly, narrowing my eyes. She's going to be a nuisance, I can tell. She throws her hands up apologetically and stumbles backward towards her bed. Better. "Did you say you had a shift? As in you have a job?"

She attends Hilton and has a job? Who is this person? I would bet that the majority of these students don't even know what a Curriculum Vitae is.

"Yup," She says, running an embarrassed hand through her hair. "That I do."

"Really?" I ask, pulling my headphones out of my nightstand and cueing up my mid-afternoon playlist. "Why?"

"Well-" She chuckles quietly. "I'm here on an academic scholarship," she explains. "Only about eighty percent of the tuition is covered. My parents pay the rest out of pocket but they don't make that much. My dad's a music teacher and my mom's a pharmacist. I gotta work for my own spending money."

"Oh," I hum, nodding my head and slipping on my headphones. At least I didn't get roomed with an uppity girl. Plus if she works, that means that she won't be in our room all the time. A win-win. "That's cool."

"Yeah," She says, tapping her hands on her knees like she can't sit still. "It's an easy job. I stock inventory at an indie record store in town. Pretty chill work."