By the time he dismisses us, I can’t wait to get back to the house, change into comfy clothes, and watch Lifetime movies or something equally mindless. I’ve been totally scandalized by this whole experience—he really didn’t have to single me out in front of the whole class. I mean, how embarrassing and unnecessary. Teachers are supposed to build your self-esteem, aren’t they? Maybe once they become professors that’s not, like, a rule anymore. Because in Legally Blonde, those teachers could be a real pain in the ass.

I’m sliding my photography notebook into my bag (I don’t know why I bother to take notes—as soon as the lights go off, I just get all fucked up) when one of the girls in my class approaches me.

“Hey,” she says. “You’re Ally, right?” She’s wearing a red sleeveless shirt and low-rise jeans. She shifts the books in her arms, and her shirt rises up, revealing a silver belly button ring.

“Yeah,” I say warily, and slide my messenger bag over my shoulder. I’m not sure if she knows my name because of the show, or because I was just made a fool of. Either way, we’re not off to a good start.

“I just wanted to tell you that I wouldn’t worry about what just happened in there.” She smiles and pushes her light brown hair off her face. “My friend had Professor Lutkiss last semester, and that’s just the way he is. He’s not, like, trying to be a dick or anything.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I mean, I’d hate to think that my grade was already screwed. I’d like to earn my D myself.”

She laughs, one of those cute little-girl laughs. “So you’re a sophomore, then?” I ask her, shifting my bag on my shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Kelly. Kelly Crisp.” She smiles again and starts to walk out of the classroom. “Come on,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback that someone is actually being nice to me. Over the past few weeks, as the initial novelty of seeing me wore off, people pretty much just started ignoring me. I’m not sure what’s worse, having people stare, or having people not even look at me. I mean, I would at least like to make some friends besides Grant. “Um, okay.”

Fuck. Now what? Frank the cameraman is waiting for me right outside the door. Even if this girl knows I’m on the show, what am I supposed to say? ‘Oh sorry, don’t mind him, that’s just my cameraman who follows me everywhere. By the way, if they decide to air this, you’re going to have to sign a release.’ I look around wildly for a back door or something that we can slip out of. Of course there’s nothing. This is college, not some spy movie. Damn. How do those Real World kids do it? They’re always ditching their cameras and messing around behind their producers’ backs.