by Leo King
While she stopped at a crosswalk and waited for a large truck bearing the insignia of the Kappa Sigma fraternity to pass by, the members hollering about the big off-campus party that evening, something caught her eye. She turned to see a woman standing on the far side of the street staring at her. She was dirty and dressed in a long overcoat, her short, blond hair matted and filthy. As Alexia scrutinized her, pegging her as some kind of derelict and wondering how she’d gotten onto campus, the Kappa Sigma truck passed between them.
“Come to our party, everyone!” one member shouted.
“We will have, like, all the beer!” another shouted.
Then the truck passed, but the blond derelict woman was gone.
Uh, what the hell?
By the time she got back to the dorms, though, she had all but forgotten the blonde woman.
It was late in the afternoon, and Alexia was reclining on the lower bunk of her dorm room bed, nose-deep in her forensics textbook. She had just gotten to an exciting section on blood splatters when her roommate, Patty O’Brien, leaned over from above. Her short, red hair was still damp from the shower, the smell of Head and Shoulders as prevalent as the freckles on her face.
“Hey there, girlfriend! Whatcha reading now?” Patty asked in a boisterous voice. She snatched Alexia’s book.
Caught off guard, Alexia tried to grab it back. However, Patty sat up so quickly that Alexia ended up falling on their ten-dollar fleur-de-lis rug, landing right on her substantially endowed chest. The pain was explosive.
“Ow! Dang it! My boobs!” She clutched them and writhed around, trying to fight out the sting.
Patty read out loud. “’Descriptions of an abnormal fluidity of blood seen at autopsy in asphyxial deaths are part of forensic mythology and can be dismissed with little discussion.’ Jesus, Alexia, can’t you just read The Golden Compass or The Wheel of Time?”
By then, Alexia was sitting. “Don’t take His name in vain,” she said, pulling herself to her feet, snatching the book back, and tossing it on her bed. “And I can’t expect a computer science major to understand forensics. All you have to do is punch code into a server. I have to figure out how crimes were committed.”
She folded her arms underneath her chest and grinned cockily. It was a jest meant for the girl she saw as a sister—Patty’s brilliance on computers was without peer.
But instead of taking the bait, Patty messed up her hair and then pulled out her shirt as if she had unreasonably large breasts. “Duh, my name is Alexia LeBlanc. I’m a genius that knows everything about everything. I’ve never blown off a single class. Ever. I could be a world-famous neurosurgeon or beat Stephen Hawking in a wager about black holes, but noooo! Instead, I want to work in a lab with dead bodies and bones. I get insulted when other people have trouble figuring out really complex problems—because, genius. I have to wear specialty bras or I suffer from chronic back pain, and I’ve never heard of Vidal Sassoon because my hair is always a fricking mess. But don’t you dare make fun of God, Jesus, or Christianity because I’ll karate-kick your butt through your mooooouth.”
As Alexia stared incredulously at her roommate, Patty chortled and pointed. “Seriously, that’s what you sound like. Just like that. Vocal inflections and everything. Honest to goodness.”
And then, Alexia burst out into laughter. “I’m so going to kick your butt—through your mouth—right now.”
Without another word, she pounced on her friend and tickled her until she was begging for mercy. A few minutes later, she was sitting in victory on the soft, flannel sheets of Patty’s bed. Her friend was on the floor, catching her breath and sniggering.
“That… was not fair… Alexia…”
From her perch of victory, Alexia beamed. “Didn’t you say you wanted to take a sour, dour, boorish, and angry girl and make her more fun? And for your information, I did blow off one class. Emory History. Because it bored me to tears!”
Patty blew a raspberry. “I remember. I had to help you pass that class.” Then she winked up at her. “And you’re no longer sour, dour, boorish, or angry. You’re a lot of fun in your own way.”
Alexia’s smile widened. Patty always made her feel right about herself. If not for her, she would have left Emory after the first time her temper got the better of her. Hopping off the bed, she helped up her friend. “Thanks. But honestly, I need to get ready for practice, so it’s good you got me away from the book. All’s well.”
The phrase “All’s well” was her way of saying that as far as she was concerned, the matter was settled, and the conversation was over.
Grinning cheekily, Patty lit a stick of incense on the bedside table. The sweet smell of jasmine soon flooded the room. “Aw, you’re gonna miss the Kappa Sigma party to go… what do you have today, karate or fencing?”
Alexia stripped off her shirt and shorts and tossed them into their hamper. “It’s not karate, it’s savate. Sah-vat. Two totally different things. And it’s fencing today. Besides, you know I don’t do parties. All that drinking and dancing and fornicating like Sodom and Gomorrah. Doesn’t ring my bell.”
“But I like drinking and dancing and fornicating.” Patty giggled, nibbling her bottom lip and swaying her shoulders back and forth.
That display made Alexia roll her eyes. Once she’d figured out that Patty was one of those childlike, carefree girls who just couldn’t make good decisions on their own, she’d decided to protect her like a big sister would. More often than not, “protecting” would end up meaning “bailing out.”
“I know there’s no use in asking you to wait until I can go or just stay home, so I’ll show up after practice. Please behave until I get there, OK?”
Patty waved her off. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stick to beer and mild flirting until you arrive.”
“And stay with a group, all right? Remember that several students have gone missing over the past few weeks. The police still haven’t ruled out foul play.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
With a sigh, Alexia headed into the bathroom they shared with the adjacent dorm room. “I can’t slack off. Serge will kill me if I get lax this close to a championship.”
Patty leaned against the bathroom wall. “Right, you’re going for team captain this time, right?”
“Yes, and Leona’s not just going to let me beat her,” Alexia said. Then she looked at herself in the mirror. At nineteen, she was about five feet six inches tall. Her black hair was constantly unkempt, since she had no inclination to style it. Her hazel eyes had the same intensity as her late brother’s. She was well-toned: her muscles were more pronounced than most other girls’, her hips were a bit larger, and her chest was like her mother’s, one size too big. She self-consciously cupped them, feeling their weight, and groaned. They made physical activity even more of a challenge.
Lord, you certainly have a sense of humor, giving a fighter like me DDs.
Patty started cleaning her face in the sink. “Seriously, though. If those midgets get any larger, you’re going to want to see a doctor about reduction surgery. There’s a fine line between an hourglass figure and looking like Jessica Rabbit on steroids, and you’re about to cross that line, girlie.”
Alexia made a face and adjusted the strap of her rather pricey bra. “Heck, no! I’m not chopping up the body God gave me no matter how much they hurt when they bounce.”
Looking at her own chest, Alexia caught sight of her locket and thought again about her brother.
As Patty chattered on about the advantages of small breasts, Alexia closed her eyes. Thinking about what had happened with Michael always brought her anger to the surface. He had left Shreveport after a falling out with their father, a Southern Baptist minister. But it was his death that had destroyed her relationship with Reverend LeBlanc.
It had been over Michael’s sexual orientation, as she was taught he was damned for it. But she couldn’t accept that someone as selfless as her brother would go to hell, and the conflict between doctrine and emotions r
ocked her otherwise unshakable faith to the core. When she finally confronted her father about the issue, his answer did even more damage.
“I love your brother,” he had said. “But he has chosen to reject God. I can do nothing for his soul. Don’t do the same thing yourself, Lexi.”
“I can’t believe that,” she had bawled. “I can’t believe God would condemn someone that good for just one sin!”
In the end, she left home after graduating from high school, going to Emory on a full scholarship. While she still talked to her mother every weekend, she hadn’t spoken to her father in three years.
“Hey, Alexia, are you OK?” Patty sounded concerned.
It pulled her out of the mental beat-up session. She nodded, noticing that she had sunk her fingernails into her palms. “Yeah. Just. No worries. All’s well.”
Patty hugged her gently. But then, loud techno music started up from the adjacent dorm room. Like a ferret distracted by a sock, she started slapping and kicking the door. “Oh, come on! Damn Marcie! She always plays that when her and Chuck are screwing!”
She then pressed her face against the door. “We all know what you’re doing, Marcie! You can quit blasting the floor with your industrial noise.”
Alexia cleaned off her face with strawberry-scented soap. “She can’t hear you. That’s why she plays the music, not to disguise the sounds of copulation.” As if on cue, a girl moaned in pleasure from behind the door. “See what I mean?”
Making a face, Patty started brushing out her wet, tangled hair. “Yuck. Not that I totally wouldn’t sneak my boyfriend in if I had one, but geez, at least I’d be tasteful.”
“Uh-huh,” Alexia replied as she got dressed in black jeans and a cream-colored blouse. “How many times have I had to ‘go run to the store’ for a few hours? Hypocrite much there?”
“Ouch!” Patty replied. “Fine, hit a girl below the belt.” She slipped into a cute, tie-dyed dress with spaghetti straps. “At least I don’t cut my boyfriend off at second base.”
Alexia’s face and ears burned before Patty even finished. “That’s not fair. Besides, Mark is very understanding. He doesn’t push.”
“He’s gotta be getting something, because he’s been with you for years. Come on, you let him rub those casabas of yours once in a while, right?” Patty nudged her, waggling her eyebrows.
“So crude!” Alexia said, swiping at her with her fencing bag. “I told you, we fool around some, not that it’s your business. He’s just… he’s really sweet, and he knows I want to save myself for marriage. He’s never forced the issue. He just wants to love me.”
Markus Eversoll, a Danish student and member of the fencing team, had proved that on their first outing, a hiking trip through Fernbank Forest. After she’d twisted her ankle at one of the old settler’s stone monuments, he had carried her back to campus. He then spent the two weeks she was recovering seeing to her every comfort. From that point onward, he was as protective of her as she was of Patty.
“So, yeah, none of your business. What we have is love—true love. Understand?” Her cheeks and ears were positively burning.
“Whatever you say, Princess Buttercup,” Patty said, who then slipped over to a stack of mail, most of it containing applications for student credit cards. “By the way, you got a postcard from New York.”
That got Alexia’s attention. “New York? I don’t know anyone there.”
Waving it around, Patty said, “From someone named Dixie. Dixie Eliopoulos. She says she needs to talk to you.”
Alexia blinked “Dixie? Dixie. Where have I heard that name before?”
With a shrug, Patty said, “I dunno. Maybe someone you knew back home?”
Snatching the postcard, Alexia examined it front and back, nibbling on her bottom lip. She was just about to put it aside when the recollection came crashing back. “I met her in New Orleans. Dixie Olivier. She was my brother’s best friend!”
Chapter 27
Alexia’s Unfortunate Evening
Date: Friday, April 21, 1995
Time: 5:00 p.m.
Location: Woodruff P. E. Center
Emory University, Atlanta, Georgia
“Arret!” Serge Eversoll said, calling for the match to stop.
Alexia out held her rapier in a perfect lunge, its blunted tip resting squarely on her opponent’s chest.
“Touch and bout!” Serge said in his thick Scandavian accent. “Alexia wins.”
She relaxed her posture, saluted with her blade, and removed her mask. Her opponent, the student instructor, did the same, her long black hair spilling down her shoulders. Both of them were covered in sweat.
Her opponent spoke in a French accent. “Very well done, Alexia. It seems that I cannot beat you today, oui?”
Grateful for the praise, Alexia bowed her head. “Thanks, Leona. Coming from you, that means a lot.” She had just beaten her toughest opponent in the class—a senior with several championships—and all but secured her position as team captain. But it had been a hard-won victory, for during the match, all she could think about was the postcard from Dixie. Her brother’s best friend wanted to meet her tomorrow. Alexia couldn’t wait.
She was jarred from her thoughts as the applause and yells for “Awesome Alexia” rippled through the rest of the class. The pinkness in her cheeks continued rising as she and Leona quickly stepped off the mat. Serge called the next two opponents.
“Just don’t let it go to your head. Next time, I plan to win.” Leona winked and headed toward the water cooler
“I won’t,” Alexia said, laughing. Leona, like Serge, was someone whom she greatly respected.
A bubbly girl’s voice caught her attention. “Hey, Alexia!” Helen, one of the freshman students, came over. Her honey-brown hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. “I just wanna say that, oh, my God, if you become our team captain, we are so going to rule the circuit this year!”
Alexia chuckled, fighting back more heat in her cheeks. “Thanks, Helen. You’re doing well, too, you know.”
Helen beamed. “So, are you going to the Kappa Sigma party tonight? I heard that’s the place to be.”
Alexia shrugged. “Yeah, Mark and I will stop by at some point.” After all, she had to check on Patty.
That seemed to be good enough for Helen, who shot her a thumbs-up. “All right. Keep it real, girl. Later!”
The sound of more clapping got her attention. Mark had just won his match and was bowing with a flourish. After he and his opponent clapped each other on the back, he came over to her, his bright, blue eyes shimmering behind his floppy, dark brown bangs. “Good job there, Alexia,” he said in that Scandinavian accent she found simply adorable. “Everyone loves you. And my uncle says you’re all but guaranteed to lead the team this time.”
Her blush, which had yet to settle, spread to her ears. He could charm her with just a few words. She leaned against him. “Thank you, Mark. Although I still haven’t beaten you.”
He stroked her hair as if he didn’t mind the sweat. “I’ll never be as good as you, baby. Beating me will just be a formality.”
Her cheeks grew even hotter until she thought she would burst into flames. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face against his chest until she felt like she could sink into him. Never before had she felt so much emotion for one person.
They stayed in that embrace for several minutes, until someone shouted, “Excuse me, is there an Alexia LeBlanc here?”
She glanced up from Mark’s arms. “Yeah. I’m Alexia.”
It was a member of campus security. “Miss LeBlanc. We just got a call from off-campus. Someone from the Kappa Sigma party.”
Alexia felt a chill. She already knew who it was about.
“Yeah, apparently a friend of yours, Patricia O’Brien, got into a situation. The police were called and some guy was arrested. Anyway, she refused to let an officer drive her back and wants to know if you’ll come get her.”
She felt her world spin. “Oh, my God. She
can’t even… what the… oh, I’m gonna be sick.”
Mark squeezed her arms and gazed into her eyes. “Your friend needs you. Want me to come along?”
With a weak nod, she said, “Yeah. I have a feeling Patty’s going to need two people to carry her home.”
“All right. But let’s get changed first. We are quite sweaty.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” She sulked. Her evening was ruined.
It was close to ten when they arrived. Alexia, who had changed back into her blouse and jeans, with a pair of boots and her cross locket, regarded the converted party house. It belonged in a John Hughes film, decorated with Christmas lights and tinsel, all in the Emory colors, with two mini spotlights beaming the Kappa Sigma logo onto its side. The front lawn had two kiddie pools filled with ice and beer bottles. The main attraction was the lawn chair attached to the roof, which featured Lord Dooley, the skeletal mascot of Emory, in a flowing black cape and top hat, lounging like a boss.
A soft moan from a nearby tree caught her attention. She recognized Marcie, her dorm mate, and her boyfriend Chuck, behind it. Chuck’s hand was up her shirt and his tongue was down her throat. Alexia rolled her eyes. Babylon’s whores are the first to go.
Mark, who was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with his letter jacket over it, pointed toward the driveway. “There she is.”
Patty was leaning against a Druid Hills police car, talking quietly with a balding officer.
Rubbing her arm, Mark said, “Let’s go.” He headed toward Patty.
She started following when something to the side caught her eye. Staring at her from across the street was the blond derelict woman from before. As soon as their eyes met, the woman hurried away down the street.
What? Is that bum following me?
As she approached Patty, she saw that her friend’s lovely tie-dyed dress was torn in several places. Without a word, Mark slipped his letter jacket over her shoulders.
