by Wood, Vivian
She stops staring off into the distance and clears her throat. “Sorry?”
My nose wrinkles. “The breakup. Was it terrible?”
Her gaze dips down to my necklace. Her eyes go wide. She leans in and whispers in a hushed tone. “That key… where did you get it?”
Looking down, I lift the heavy key off of my chest. “This? I found it. On my first day here, I was dropped off by Rose House. I dropped something in their yard—”
Cass stops me with a touch. “Take it off. Seriously. If any of the Skulls see you wearing that, there will be some serious drama.”
My eyes widen. I reach up and slip the necklace off, tucking it in my purse. “Why?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but we are interrupted by Alice and Mathilde. They come over and set their lunch trays down, giggling.
“He does not!” says Mathilde.
“He does too!” Alice declares as she sits. She turns to face us. “Tell this biotch that Dr. Maddux soooo has a thing for Dr. Napier. Just look at them!”
Turning my head in the direction she nods, I see the professors lunching at a nearby table. Dr. Maddux is the head of the journalism department and has a doctorate in psychology, but you wouldn’t know it from the lovelorn expression on his handsome face. At about age forty, he is known as one of the hottest professors on campus, but just now he has eyes for no one but Dr. Napier.
Dr. Napier isn’t even looking at him, though. She is just looking at her husband, laughing at something he just said.
“Dr. Napier looks like she’s still in love with her hubby,” I say with shrug.
Alice scoffs. “Rumor has it that she sleeps around. Other professors, the dean of sciences, even a student here and there.”
“That’s just gossip,” Mathilde declares.
“And you’re saying you never listen to gossip?” Cassandra asks, eating a spoonful of yogurt.
Mathilde slides a sly look to Cass. “I’m not saying never…”
“Hmm.” Cass throws her spoon down onto her tray, standing up. “You guys will have to have lunch without me. I’m feeling unwell.”
“I’ll catch up with you back at Thistle!” I call over my shoulder as she struts off. Turning back to Alice and Mathilde, I clear my throat.
It just so happens that I’ve been waiting to get the other girls alone. I need to dig a little dirt. They are perfect because they seem to absorb all the rumors they hear about everything and everyone. The mystery of Asher Radcliffe’s death should be juicy enough for them to have some little tidbits about it hidden away somewhere.
I just have to approach it broadly.
“So…” I say, trying to appear casual. “Do you guys happen to know how the Skulls and Thorns got started?”
Alice looks up from peeling a clementine. “Sure. Campbell already existed, but there were only two fraternities. Delta Tau Delta and Sigma Phi. They got into an argument over a prank war that went too far. I guess someone retaliated against someone else by putting pig’s blood in their house. I don’t know, something with pig’s blood.” She scrunches her face up. “Ew. Anyway, many of the blue bloods thought that was disreputable. Out of that, the Skulls were founded.”
“And the Thistles were founded as soon as they let women attend college,” Mathilde adds. “Like 1900 or something. We are intended to be the matched mates to the Skulls.”
There isn’t a trace of irony in her voice as she recites what she knows. I wonder if she ever even stopped to really think about that or not.
I use my fork to push some salad around my plate. “So the Skulls have always been a secret society?”
Alice pipes up again. “Yup. I mean, I think anyone can know about them, but no one knows what goes on within those walls. Not really.”
“There are rumors about what they do, though,” Mathilde says. “Like they observe a lot of the Roman feast days. And they do rituals that would be shocking if they were made public.”
Her eyes shine as she wiggles her brows.
“How do you know?” I ask, playing it as casual as I know how. My heart speeds up as I wait for her answer, though.
She spreads her hands wide. “My father was a Skull. And his father, and his father…” She rolls her eyes. “I’m like, a triple legacy here at Campbell.”
I stare at my food, my heart pounding. “So… your whole family must have been upset last year when that kid died.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Asher? Yeah. Especially since he was a Waltham alum too.”
I smile a little sadly. “It’s terrible that he died right here on campus. I mean, can you imagine?”
Mathilde’s eyes narrow on my face. She takes a second to answer me.
“Yeah. It was really terrible.”
I lean back, considering my response. On one hand, I don’t want to make her suspicious of me. On the other hand, when is this going to come up organically again? I slide a glance at Alice, but her mouth is full of a piece of clementine. I lick my lips.
“Do you think he really fell?” I blurt out.
Instantly, I can see Mathilde’s walls go up. She looks annoyed and suspicious all at once. “Yes. Everybody that knew him knew he was fucking clumsy. He fell down the stairs and literally no one was even surprised. We were all…” She pauses awkwardly. “Everyone was sad that he died, okay?”
That last bit doesn’t sound a bit convincing, but I don’t know why. Before I can ask another question though, Alice clears her throat. When I look at her, she gives a little shake of her head.
Mathilde clenches her jaw, stabbing at the salad on her tray with her fork. Knowing I took it a little too far, I give her a tight smile.
“Sorry. It’s the first time I’m hearing the details from somebody that was as close as you are.”
Alice looks between us, primly dusting off her hands. “I think it’s time to change the subject. What’s everybody doing for fall break.”
Mathilde and I answer at once.
“Studying,” I say.
“Partying,” she says.
We each stare at the other, clearly not understanding who the other person is. Alice folds her hands in her lap and continues to quiz us about the break and our commitments.
I smile and feign interest in the rest of the conversation, but it’s really lost on me. The whole time I am stuck on something that Mathilde said.
Everyone knew he was clumsy. No one was even surprised when he fell.
That doesn’t sound like a football hero, which Asher supposedly was. Sure, Mathilde could’ve had a different experience.
But it seems like Mathilde lying to me about Asher’s athleticism. Why would she do that?
Something is fishy here. I just can’t figure out what.
25
Wolf
We’re five seconds from fall break, and I’m in the den at Rose House, studying.
Emily is incessant about that shit, and it’s starting to rub off whether I want it to or not. There are other things I’d rather do to create friction, but there she is, always. Out front of Thistle House. Walking to class with the other Thistles. Sitting next to me at the wide desk in biochemistry, the fall of her hair hiding her eyes.
I hover my pen over my notebook, trying to force the words into my brain.
Too fucking late. My brain is filled with Emily, on her knees at initiation.
I don’t know which thing was the bigger mistake—letting her get on her knees for another man, or letting her choose Max before I could have her for myself.
Her voice is always in my head, along with the image of her in that lingerie. The things I could do to her, with her hands behind her back. Do you consent to be sacrificed?
She would.
I saw how much she liked it.
It’s a good thing Max stood between us when he raised that cup to her lips, otherwise I might have taken over then and there.
Wait—her voice isn’t in my head. It’s in the hallway.
I stare at the closed door of
the den for so long that when I look back down at the paper, I have no idea where I’ve left off with the biochem notes. Something about lipids. Who the hell has ever cared about lipids?
Emily probably has. She cares about all of this bullshit like a person who’s going to need it in order to survive.
I thought I could survive based on the money my name carries with it. It was a reasonable assumption right up until the day Asher died.
I should pay more attention in class, I guess.
She laughs, a low, thrumming sound, and my chest clenches. Max. His voice is the one that answers hers, and I can’t hear what he’s saying but his tone is so familiar.
They’re friends.
They could probably be more.
It makes total sense, now that I think about it. Of course Emily would be here with the hours ticking down to a university break. She’ll study up to the last minute and then probably straight through the long weekend. I won’t be here to interrupt her.
Stupid decision.
The door to the den cracks open. “Wolf?”
“Yeah.” A flash of irritation cracks across the edges of my vision like a thin bolt of lightning. I’m already on the edge of my seat, halfway to getting up and going out into the hall just so I can talk to Emily on my way to the kitchen or wherever else, but my instinct is to pretend I’m being interrupted. Max pokes his head in.
“You busy?”
I flip the book shut. “What’s going on?”
I can only see the side of his face. Why doesn’t he just open the door and come inside?
“Your parents are here.”
The lightning strike of irritation is followed on its heels by a roll of thunder. “Here?” I say, fucking stupidly. Of course they’re here. “All right.” I stand up and pick up the biochemistry textbook and the notebook, feeling like I’m in the eighth grade. I toss them both back down on a low mahogany table at the side of the room.
They didn’t tell me they were going to visit, and I haven’t given them a reason to come back to Campbell. Not that they need a reason. They like to tell each other about the good old days as much as anyone else’s parents do, and they like it best when it’s on their own stomping grounds. But we came to an agreement freshman year that they couldn’t be the kind of assholes who drop in.
So what is this?
It’s not one of the festivals where Skulls alumni would be invited. It’s the last day before fall break. The sun is already beginning to set. I should have left campus hours ago.
Out in the hall, Max lingers with his hands in his pockets.
“I’ve got it,” I tell him.
“Max?” Emily calls from the living room. “What do you think about—”
“I’m coming,” he says, and turns neatly around the corner into the room.
I open the front door of Rose House.
My mother’s dress is too short. Black, fitting for fall, but way too fucking short. I keep a curl from my lip, but barely. Her blonde hair has been recently colored, and the smile she stretches across her face is as fake as I’ve ever seen. The smile on my father’s face rings less false, but that’s because he’s practiced it so many times.
“This is a surprise.” I hold the door slightly open just to see my mother’s lips curve downward in faint disapproval. “Mom. Dad.”
“Aren’t you going to invite us in, Wolf? We’ve come to see you.”
I make a show of patting my pockets for my phone, then taking it out and squinting at the screen. “I must not have gotten your messages.”
My mother tilts her head to the side, a little smirk on her face. “We wanted to catch you before you went out of town.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m in the middle of packing, so...”
“Out of the way, Wolf,” my father says genially. “We’re not going to talk to you through the door.”
I pull the door open and give them a bow. “Welcome to Rose House.”
“Oh, Wolf,” my mother says, taking in a deep breath as she steps inside. If this were a hundred years ago, she’d probably run a white-gloved hand over the bannister to see if it was clean enough. It doesn’t matter at all to her that a group of college-age men live here. And my father might pretend not to care, but I catch his glimpse into the living room anyway.
“I don’t have long to talk.” I lean against the bannister and let my hands fall easily into my pockets.
“Isn’t there somewhere you’d rather go?” My father says, loud enough that I know this is mainly for show. “We could get something to eat.”
“I’ve eaten.” I smile at him as broadly as I can manage. “Was there something specific you wanted to discuss?”
“We only wanted to check in,” my mother says, obviously lying. “See how your last year at Campbell is going. If everything’s proceeding smoothly under your leadership.”
My leadership. So this is about initiation. This is about whether or not anything went awry—anything that could hit the news. But since nothing did hit the news, they should already know that it was fine.
I smile down at her. She’s shorter than me now, but part of me still feels like she has all the advantages. “If you’re worried, just say so.”
She purses her lips. Being worried is too pedestrian for her, and it would give her wrinkles on her forehead that she thinks she’s too young to have. “It’s always nice to be reassured.”
“Be reassured, then. Everything’s been fine since the last time you were here.” I let an edge color my words. They were here not long after the beginning of the year, wanting to make sure I was enjoying myself. I guess my father would know what it’s like to hav something go wrong in an organization you’re in charge of, but as far as I know, it’s never been a dead body at the bottom of a staircase.
Or on a sidewalk, strange marks covering his face, like he’d been forced into playing the part of some fucked-up sacrifice, and not the kind with a loose bow around his wrists and a taste of blueberry wine on his lips...
My mother has been talking again.
“Sorry, what was that?” I straighten up from the banister and look her in the eyes. She’s not drunk, this time. Her pupils are sober-sized.
“What are your plans for the break? Are you and Carter flying out to the beach house?” She means the mansion my parents own on an island off the Florida coast. It’s a private island we share with one other family, their house on the opposite side. I’ve gone there once a year since I was in high school.
“And Ellis,” I offer. “Max is coming, too. It should be a great time.”
My father is nodding his approval before I’m even done speaking, a strange relief in his face. Relief. I can’t fathom what he could be so worried about. I’ve never once let on in front of them that losing Asher has been a bigger blow than I ever could have anticipated.
No one could have anticipated that. Nobody expects one of their best friends to die before he’s graduated college. If he were alive right now, he’d be hopping on the jet for a weekend away with us, arguing about bringing women along and being a jovial asshole. He liked to spend his time on jet-skis and running on the beach, like he was putting on a show for an audience that wasn’t there.
“That’s good. Take advantage of the free time now,” my father says, reaching forward to pat my shoulder. “Good for you boys.”
Two things happen at once. The fake smile my mother put on her face when I started talking about the break sharpens into a disgusted frown, and I become aware that someone is standing in the doorway to the living room. One breath is all it takes to know it’s Emily. Her skin always smells sweet, and she still has a hint of the outside breeze on her. It shouldn’t, but it lights up every nerve in my body to be this close to her. We’re two feet away, maybe three, and I feel every one of those inches. The hair on the back of my neck rises, along with a feral feeling. I want to block Max from coming out afterward, even though he’s not standing behind her. He must still be in the living room. I silen
tly will him to stay where he is and will my parents not to come any closer.
My mother leans back like she needs to create space between herself and Emily. It wasn’t long ago that I thought she didn’t belong here at all. I’m still not convinced she should be here, but now that instinct wars with a stronger one—to keep her nearby. I can’t fucking believe I ever dismissed her as someone boring, even in the privacy of my own brain.
My father recovers himself sooner, but not soon enough. “Hi, there,” he says, his tone overcompensating for the fact that he’s obviously fumbling this.
“Mr. and Mrs. Astor.” Emily smiles tightly, lips closed. “I was on my way out. It’s nice to see you.”
According to my mother’s expression this feeling is not mutual. “What are your plans for spring break, dear?” Fake. So fake.
“Oh,” says Emily, “I have a lot of studying to do. I want to stay ahead. That’s where I’m headed now, if I could—” She nods her head at the door.
My mother lets out a long sigh. “Of course.” My blood boils.
Emily slips between them, opens the door, and disappears out side.
“Wolf,” my mother says. “What is she doing here? I remember that girl from our last visit, and I can tell you that she is not the kind of person you want to invite into your circle. Not at this point in your college career.” Her eyes widen. “She’s not a Thistle, is she? I can’t imagine that her family could possibly afford—”
“Look at that,” I say loudly, to keep from shoving them both out onto the sidewalk. “Time’s up. It’s too bad you couldn’t stay longer.” I move through them, dividing them like Emily did, and open the door. “We’ll have to connect after break. Text me, would you? That’s right. Head on out. Goodbye, Mom and Dad. Great visit. Goodbye.”
26
Emily
With my arms full of books, I walk down the hall in the language arts building, listing off the things I have to do before I can go to the Halloween party. For each class, I’ve gathered quite a lengthy list of to-do items.
