Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Tuesday, 2/21/12

"Okay, pick up your pencils."

Why had she gotten high for this? She doesn't want to go to law school, clearly. She's taking the test for her mother, she thinks. Her mother is a high power attorney who thinks her daughter "has what it takes." Why she thinks that, Maybelle will never know.

May had gotten high for all of the LSAT prep classes. It was the only way to make them bearable. Taught by a jockish blond law student who obviously didn't give a shit about any of them, the class was held at night in the English building. So much different by night. The fluorescent lights gave her headaches when she wasn't stoned.

Her friend Dennis had told her to take the test high. He spoke with such authority, being Number One in the business school. "If you studied high, man, then you need to get into the same frame of mind. You need that instant access."

She wishes there were Twinkies available. The only time she really eats is when she's high. And then she runs a remorseful ten or even twenty miles the next day, whether she has classes or not. You can't let that shit get ahead of you. Freshman fifteen is for losers. May lost fifteen pounds in college. Depending on how you look at it, she probably didn't have fifteen pounds to lose.

Her pencil feels bendy in her hand. She thinks of her two roommates, also high, laying out on the quad right now in rolled down boxers and tye-dyed running bras. What she wouldn't give to be out there.

May looks at the test, concentrates. She answers a few questions and finds her groove.

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