Kerry Allen's Love Emporium

Amaryllis Honeywell-Sterling, headmistress of the Heroine Academy, delivered her welcoming address behind a rose- and ribbon-festooned podium centered on the stage spanning the front of the auditorium. The icon of womanly virtue recited a long list of virtues to live by. Tall, skinny, and straight as a pole herself, it came as no surprise when she placed a lot of emphasis on proper posture.

Andi might have taken it as a suggestion to rectify her own splayed-leg slouch, except there was no way the old bat could see her all the way in the back row, shielded by the impenetrable wall of Aquanet-reinforced hair formed by the Barbie Brigade occupying the next-to-last row.

One of the dolls turned and gave her the stinkeye, from her shaggy mop of brown hair to the dirty sneaker braced against the back of said Barbie’s chair. Disapproval tightened her lips like a sphincter. “You shouldn’t sit like that. It’s not ladylike.”

Andi scratched her armpit and burped—not up to the standards of the bellowing expulsions of gas any of her brothers could call forth at will, but they were disgusting manimals, whereas she was a lady. “No shit?”

Barbie blanched beneath her spray-on tan and faced forward, rigidly erect. From the rear view, with her pink sheath dress and helmet of hair, she looked kind of like a penis.

The headmistress droned, “As I behold the eager faces of our new students, it is with great… excitement that I notice the diversity that has resulted from the amended admissions guidelines recently implemented by our Board of Regents.”

Andi snickered. “Yeah, I bet she’s excited. Like sheep get excited when they notice wolves in the meadow.”

“Grr.”

Andi rolled her head to check out the source of the mock growl and promptly surrendered the notion she’d be the alpha bitch of the paltry pack of interlopers. Another wolf had entered the meadow, this one wearing the tanned hides of her previous victims so there’d be no mistaking her nature. “I tried to stuff myself into leather pants once during my garage band days, so I understand why you’re late. I’m Andi.”

“Ivy,” the newcomer replied, assessing the crowd with a hunter’s hostile gaze. “What did I miss?”

“We began with recitation of a poem about the importance of punctuality.”

“Oops.”

“And then Miz Neverbeenlaid-Stickupherass expressed her happiness about lowering the bar on recruiting standards so even slobs like us can live the dream of becoming heroines.”

“I’m not part of any ‘us.’” That stare, sharp enough to flay flesh from bone, fell upon Andi. “You’re not one of ‘them.’ What are you doing here?”

Much as she’d like to claim destroying the establishment from within as her motivation, it would be uncool to start what might be her only chance at friendship in this hellhole with a rebellious lie. “Some eight-year-old in China stole my job. A re-education scholarship was part of my severance package, but there were only two schools involved—this one and the University of Gallantry and Heroism. My brothers are enrolled at UGH, so I couldn’t get away with stuffing a sock in my drawers and sneaking in as a boy.”

Her folks hoped they would land a family saga that would keep them all working for a few years, until the economy turned around and they could get real jobs again. In the meantime, a free dorm room beat sacking out on her parents’ couch like a mooch.

“You’d fraudulently represent yourself?” The question conveyed interest rather than condemnation.

“Hell, yeah. Here, classes on proper silverware placement,  growing your hair to luxurious lengths, and the fine art of being a pretty, pretty princess. There, auto mechanics, dueling, sailing, cowboying—you know, useful skills worth wearing a third sock for.”

Unlike the twits who managed to sneak into UGH every year, only to get busted because of the wiggles in their walks or their maidenly swoons at the sight of a little male nudity, Andi could pass as one of the guys indefinitely. She strode rather than sashayed, and after sharing one bathroom with four brothers all her life, nothing short of some freakish anatomic deformity would shock her.

Even then, she’d probably want a closer look and all the gory details. Squeamish, she was not.

Ivy’s abrasive scrutiny of her face made up for years of failure to exfoliate. “Your nose is a bit pert for a guy.”

What did she look like, an amateur? Her teachers hadn’t realized she wasn’t a boy until the locker room incident in eighth grade. “Pencil in a unibrow, nobody looks at the nose. Plus, any self-respecting chick would wax a caterpillar brow into extinction, so my willingness to be ugly would kill any lingering doubt about my girliness.”

A speculative gleam glinted in Ivy’s eyes. “You’re a good strategist. I could use an ally like you.”

“You mean a sidekick?” Andi clasped her hands to her underdeveloped bosom and fluttered her sort, sparse eyelashes. “Do I get a matching dominatrix costume? How about medical, dental, and two weeks’ paid vacation?”

“You get to live, if you’re lucky. There are evil forces at work beyond your comprehension.”

“Cool.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Me neither. I thought I’d be bored to death when they confiscated my PS3, Wii, and Xbox at the gate because gaming isn’t a suitable recreational activity for a future heroine. If there’s some next-level shit going on here, I can keep busy buffing my real-life stats in prep for the final boss fight. What are we talking about, zombie apocalypse? Alien invasion?”

“Something far more sinister.” Ivy’s dark gaze shifted to the front of the auditorium, where the headmistress spouted something about obedience that tried real hard to undo fifty years of women’s lib. “It’s not safe to discuss it here.”

“Gotcha. Prioritizing stealth and evasion.” Andi tugged a crumpled cap from the back pocket of her jeans and pulled the brim low over her eyes. She was, of course, aware that in her current environment, adopting a Barbie uniform would be less conspicuous, but for the sake of self-preservation, she couldn’t descend too deeply into the pink abyss of fashion, face glop, and fakery.

The headmistress gathered her notes, signaling the end of the welcome session. “I know how anxious you must be to get settled in and begin your studies. You are encouraged to select your own roommates. Each dorm room accommodates four young ladies. Living together in such close quarters, you may become close as family, but never forget you are also rivals, competing for the most gallant heroes. The associates you choose will be instrumental in your success or failure in your quest to become a heroine, so choose wisely.”

“In other words, pick people good enough to be useful, but not good enough to be better,” Andi translated into plainspeak. “Every room will have a leader and three stooges.”

“My quest isn’t to achieve heroinely perfection, so someone else can be the star pupil in our group. I’ll use anyone clever, strong, and willing, but trustworthy is more important by far.”

“Well, I don’t trust a sheep as far as I can drop kick it, so I suggest we introduce ourselves to the other wolves.” Andi stood and stretched her arms over her head, causing her T-shirt to ride up and reveal the jagged scar slicing across her abdomen. There was a good reason zombies and aliens didn’t scare her—she’d already survived worse. “A couple of them already have their tails between their legs, so try not to scare them too much with the ‘evil beyond your wildest imagining’ stuff.”

“They must be warned. Their lives depend on—”

“Ahem.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let them be blissfully ignorant of their impending damnation for a little while longer. I’ll smile and make polite chitchat about the weather, but I am not sniffing anybody’s butt.”

“Hey, you don’t like my metaphor, the door’s right behind you. I’d like to see you try to get a better sidekick when all you have to offer is survival. Maybe. If they’re lucky. Hell, I’ll even make them the offer on your behalf. I see one of your extremely limited prospects right over there.” Andi elbowed a path through the clusters of Barbies congealing and clogging the main artery of the auditorium, heading toward a mousy little thing with thick glasses sitting all alone in the front row. “She’s homely and nearsighted, so she must be smart. I bet she knows all sorts of rhetorical devices that’ll make her an excellent addition to the team, since that’s all you care about.”

While Andi had to force her way through the blockage, it parted at Ivy’s approach as if repelled by the force of her personality. “Don’t be so touchy. I don’t have the patience to coddle you.”

“No costume, no insurance, and no coddling? Damn, woman. Who could resist that proposition?” Andi plunked herself into the seat beside the mouse, who jumped as if a firecracker had exploded under her chair. “Here’s the thing, kiddo. I’m kind of a slob, and my friend here eats cute baby animals to satisfy her dark appetites, but we won’t make fun of you or promise you’ll be popular if you do all our homework. Want to be our roommate?”

NEXT: Orientation: Eugenia Templeton

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