Read Online Life Swap by Abby McDonald - Free Book Online

on top of mine.
    â€œAnd Milton says we’re doing weight-training all next week,” adds a petite redhead, almost spilling her beer.
    â€œHe’ll kill us all!” Holly groans. She turns to me. “Everyone, this is Natasha. Ellen, Alex, James.” She nods at each person in turn. I wave, and they offer assorted hellos.
    â€œSo where are you from?” asks the guy crammed next to me. Alex, I think it is.
    â€œL.A. originally.” I smile, glad to be buried in the middle of a crowd for the first time in what seems like forever. “But I go to school just up the coast.”
    â€œCalifornia!” The redhead sighs longingly. “Beaches, sunshine…”
    â€œSurfing,” Alex adds. “What on earth are you doing here?”
    I giggle. “It’s cool to have a change.”
    â€œBloody freezing, you mean.”
    â€œYup, the weather does suck,” I admit. “But Oxford is amazing—all the old buildings, the history…”
    â€œâ€¦the sadistic rowing instructors.” Another guy arrives at our table in time to finish my sentence. “Did you hear what Milton wants us to do next week?”
    And with that, I’m buried in the middle of a raging debate on rival crew teams and Raleigh’s chances of success. As their enthusiastic conversation surrounds me, I feel a glow of warmth that has nothing to do with the overheated room. Professor Elliot is wrong—I’m not here for the easy way out. I can do this. I know I can.

Emily
    After my mini-breakdown at the beach, I don’t accept any more of Morgan’s invitations. As much as I want to get along here, I can’t bear the thought of that panic or uncertainty again, so by the end of my third week, I’m back in a perfectly structured routine, every hour from eight until five neatly accounted for—thanks to my wall-chart organizer. Morning runs, library sessions, classic film watching, and, of course, classes; if I ever get lonely or start to question what I’m doing here, all it takes is a quick glance above my desk at the daily schedule to calm myself down again.
    In addition to Professor Lowell’s screenwriting session, Natasha is also signed up for a range of core curriculum and film modules. The core material is a breeze: the sort of basic education requirements I could complete in my sleep, but to my surprise, the film work is actually interesting—full of ideas and concepts I’ve never come across before, everything from the business side of the industry to sociological readings of performance and script. Throwing myself completely into the work, I can almost see why someone would voluntarily choose to study it.
    As the rush of students around me stampedes toward the door of my only morning lecture, I take a moment to check I have all the photocopied notes and reading suggestions. I’m finally adjusting to the size of this place, with cavernous lecture halls full of earnest film geeks and slacker students. My days of personal debate with my tutor are on hold for now, but the anonymity is refreshing. I see the same faces from some of my other classes: emo boy, perky girl, and Ryan, but nobody expects anything more than a smile or nod from me. I used to have to always be the one with the superior argument or insightful comment, but here I only have to show up.
    It’s the first time people have ever expected so little from me.
    I finally finish double-checking my books and slip into the aisle, bumping straight into somebody else. “Excuse me,” I apologize, still fastening my bag.
    â€œNo problem,” a familiar voice drawls, edged with the slightest hint of sarcasm.
    My head snaps up and I find Ryan in front of me, slouched in a maroon print hoodie and regarding me with extreme impatience.
    â€œOh, it’s you.”
    â€œCould you sound any more thrilled?” His face twists into a half smile. “You’re giving my ego a