Andre Becomes Andrea

I was in my first year of college. I was having second thoughts about the major I had declared: Psychology. I figured I was probably going to have to change it to something else. I went to a local University and was living in my brother's basement. I was not into the party scene, and having just turned 19, I was still too young for the campus bars. I had dated a girl during the first month or so of school, but she started to act a bit unstable. She blamed her erratic behavior on the stress of college.

She had come from a small town and was having trouble adjusting. We had awkward sex and promised to never see each other again. We nearly embraced in agreement. There was one person from high school that I stayed in touch with, my friend, Andre. He had decided to take a year off from school before deciding what to do with his life. He claimed he was working at a clothing store and was teaching himself about web design. I would go to his parent's house on weekends, and we would sit around like familiar friends and talk about the people in high school that we had hated: the popular kids. We wished that they were no longer popular.

"That fucker should have a taste of his own medicine. Making people think they are worthless." Andre said.

"What fucker?" I asked.

"All those fuckers." He giggled.

I had never heard that giggle from him. He smiled strangely.

Andre had a thin build and pale skin. He appeared to have lost a little weight. His face was more angular and his cheekbones were more prominent than ever. He was my height: 5' 11". He was wearing his brown hair very short. His jeans fit him baggy and he had started to wear oversized shirts. I reasoned he was trying to find a new look for himself and was trapped somewhere before he actually did acquire a new look. His bedroom was no longer decorated with the posters of bands that had covered the walls. It seemed sparser than before, but there was a new trunk at the foot of his bed.