“Sheila. James—what’s up, man!” Brian high-fived James and lunged toward me for a hug but instead nicked my left breast. The humiliation wouldn’t stop. “This is Robin.” He smiled, revealing fierce merlot-stained teeth. “She’s a junior at Penn.” No way. Some sorority girl was going to bed Brian, with his red teeth and all. Maybe this law clerk thing was an amazing rap after all. Brian turned to the bouncer: “Dude, they’re totally cool.” The bouncer nodded at Brian, and in an instant the red rope had parted. We’d arrived. Never mind it was on account of Brian, who’d apparently gained ownership of the town in a few short days.

Inside were dozens, hundreds, what felt like thousands of really smart-looking people smiling, laughing, and patting one another on the back. I recognized a few from around the courthouse but nobody seemed to have a clue who I was. How were all of these law clerks already friends?

Brian returned sans coed, who’d presumably come to her senses. He beelined to me and James.

“Man, who are you clerking for?” he asked James with what’s-the-meaning-of-life-style intensity. James glanced at me, clearly a bit unnerved.

“Um, I’m clerking for Judge Harris in Camden. How are you liking—?”

“I am clerking for Judge Fleck”—big smile, pause for accolades—“and Harris? Isn’t he a district court judge?”

Oh no. James’s district court status was about to get us ditched. I should have been happy. Instead, I pathetically tried to keep Brian’s attention.

“So, how do you know everyone here?” I pointed around the bar.

“Well, we all went to the Judicial Clerk Institute out at Pepperdine. It was totally awesome,” he bragged. “And frankly, I’m surprised not every law clerk was required to go. Judge Fleck, for one, paid for each of his law clerks to attend. And frankly, I don’t know how you guys will even do in chambers without the institute. We learned a ton. Now if you’ll excuse me. I see someone I summered with at the ACLU.” And he was off.

Boring someone like Brian was upsetting to begin with. Frankly, the institute was overkill. I couldn’t bear to be the law clerk failure, as Brian had insinuated. I had to get in with the instituters. Maybe I’d use my ACLU connection with Brian the next time I got his ear.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t believe that he actually became a bigger loser after law school,” James complained. “And as for that clerk camp, I can’t think of anything lamer than summer camp for law clerks.” He downed his vodka and got another. I, on the other hand, was stuck on our horrific social status and couldn’t shake the camp thing.