Prologue

Every good story demands a beautiful heroine. Whether or not this story will hold any merit remains to be seen, but the fact that Sophie Bernhart was distinctly ordinary simply cannot be denied. Her mouth was too wide; her nose was too small, and her hair was that common shade just between blond and brown. If asked, Sophie would tell you complacently that her hands and feet were too big and her stomach not flat enough for beauty. But most unfortunately perhaps, her eyes were blue. Not ocean, or sky-blue, or sapphire. Just blue. She did rather like her eyelashes, though. They were long and thick and curled at the edges, and whenever she walked into Sephora's the women at the door raved over them.

But Sophie wasn't pondering her chances for novelistic fame as she stared moodily over her strawberry frappuccino at Starbucks. She was thinking that in exactly two weeks, she and her three best friends would be scattered all over the east coast as they started their first year of college. From where she sat, she could see the red and white lights of a nearby Target, and she sent them a glare for good measure. Sophie normally prided herself on her confidence and efficiency, which was difficult to reconcile with the fact that she had just finished wandering its aisles for two helpless hours, dorm-shopping list in hand, wracked by a completely foreign feeling: indecision. Would she need a shower curtain? An answering machine? Kitchenware? Should she get the small or large wastebasket? And where in this godforsaken store did they sell the shoe racks? Disheartened, she had exited the store in true drama-queen fashion, mentally gone through her list of friends before deciding that she didn't feel like seeing anyone, and ended up drowning her sorrows in five million calories of flavored milk, ice, and whipped cream. Perfect.

Sophie caught sight of her ordinary reflection in the shiny lid of her frappuccino and sighed. Negative 14 days into her freshman year at Florida College and she was already a nervous wreck. She might detest indecision, might hate to be unfocused and unsure of herself, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to have to get used to it.