"Oh, yeah," he says. "That's right."

Blair and Trent laugh and she grabs his arm to balance herself for a moment. "Or Jew.S.C.," she says, almost gasping.

"Or Jew.C.L.A.," Trent says, still laughing.

Finally Blair stops laughing and brushes past me to the door, telling me that I should try the punch.

"I'll get the punch," Daniel says. "You want some, Trent?"

"No thanks." Trent looks at me and says, "You look pale."

I notice that I do, compared to Trent's deep, dark tan and most of the other people's complexions around the room. "I've been in New Hampshire for four months."

Trent reaches into his pocket. "Here," he says, handing me a card. "This is the address of a tanning salon on Santa Monica. Now, it's not artificial lighting or anything like that, and you don't have to rub Vitamin E capsules all over your bod. This thing is called an Uva Bath and what they do is they dye your skin."

I stop listening to Trent after a while and look over at three boys, friends of Blair's I don't know, who go to U.S.C., all tan and blond and one is singing along with the music coming out of the speakers.

"It works," Trent says.

"What works?" I ask, distracted.

"An Uva Bath. Uva Bath. Look at the card, dude."

"Oh yeah." I look at the card. "They dye your skin, right?"

"Right."

"Okay."

Pause.

"What have you been doing?" Trent asks.

"Unpacking," I say. "What about you?"

"Well," he smiles proudly. "I got accepted by this modeling agency, a really good one," he assures me. "And guess who's going to be not only on the cover of International Male in two months, but who is also the month of June in U.C.L.A.'s college man calendar?"

"Who?" I ask.

"Me, dude," Trent says.

"International Male?"

"Yeah. I don't like the magazine. My agent told them no nude stuff, just like Speedos and stuff like that. I don't do any nude stuff."