Harem versus harem.

How often does one university entertain two coeds with harems of rich boys on their heels?

My name is Marnye Reed and this, this is Charlotte Carson.

 

Girl, just call me Chuck.

What are the chances? Is it fate? You have five boyfriends; I have five boyfriends.

Whoever could’ve guessed that Bornstead University had a strange and unusual tradition—one that’s put targets on both of our backs. Not that we’re unused to it. You dealt with an elitist club; I ran from a cult.

 

Mm. It’s unexpected. More so, it’s disappointing.

High school is a closed loop, isn’t it? It’s so easy to say happily ever after with a graduation cap on one’s head. But what happens afterward? How do we make this work? At least I can talk to you about it.

 

We can talk boys all night! Just so long as I don’t have to pretend to be one. Um.

But do we really have time to worry about how to make things work when it’s possible we won’t have harems at all at the end of this? I’m worried, Marnye. Somebody died. A girl died because they wanted to steal her boyfriend from her. We each have five.

 

It’s not as if we haven’t struggled before, right Chuck?

It’s not as if we haven’t fought, scraped, and bled.

It’s not as if we haven’t been bullied and intimidated.

If anything, this is our chance to come into our own. If anything, this is a chance at redemption.

 

This time, we’re not alone. I have you; you have me.

And we both have them.

Our boys. Our hearts. Our futures.