by S. L. Stacy
“Oh, relax. I was only kidding.”
No she wasn’t.
Victoria and I go out into the living room. Farrah gently closes the door behind us.
“Did Headquarters tell you why they sent us a babysitter?” I whisper the question as we’re walking up the stairs even though I think we’re safely out of earshot.
“Apparently the only reason we haven’t had a house mother until now is because none of the other sororities here have one, but our chapters at other schools do—so now they’ve decided we should, too.”
“But they didn’t give you a heads up?” We pause outside my room. The door is closed, and the space between the floor and the bottom of the door is dark. Tanya must have gone to bed.
“Nope.”
“I wonder where she’s from,” I muse. “She’s kind of exotic. You don’t think she’s hot?” I exclaim when my big sister scowls.
Victoria looks a little green. She shakes her head. “She’s just not my type.”
“Are you kidding me? She’s everybody’s type. She might even be my type.” I widen my eyes in mock horror. “Maybe I’m gay, too.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you? It’s contagious,” she hisses, wriggling her fingers at me. I give an unladylike snort of laughter, which makes us both laugh even harder.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t come back earlier,” I say, my giggles subsiding. I’m not sure I really have anything to apologize for, but still, I don’t want to let her down. I’m an only child, but Victoria’s like a real older sister to me, not just a sorority one. She was the first sister I met at the Gamma Lambda Phi house.
Recruitment is a marathon weekend: Four days of tripping around the Greek Quad in high heels as you visit all of the sorority houses, networking with the sisters and resisting the urge to take two of all of the pastel colored desserts offered to you. On the last day I was still undecided, flip-flopping between Gamma Lambda Phi and Alpha Rho, but then Victoria, her face lit up with the first earnest smile I had seen the entire weekend, handed me a red velvet cupcake with pink cream cheese frosting. Despite her striking auburn hair, which she wore in a shiny bob that evening, Victoria didn’t fit the image of the typical sorority girl seared in my brain. Her form-fitting black dress and pumps only accentuated her gangly frame, and her angular face was pleasant but not pretty.
“I’m so glad we got to know each other this weekend.” Just like her smile, her words rang with sincerity. “I would love it if you joined our sisterhood, but I hope we can stay friends either way.” It wasn’t just the cupcake and her frankness that convinced me to join. Victoria was just one of those people I felt instantly at ease with, like I used to with Anna—like I had known her forever even though we had only just met.
“It’s fine,” she says now through a yawn. “I was just stressed out.” She walks across the hall to go into her own room.
“Oh, and by the way, Max was here earlier looking for you. I told him you’d call him as soon as you got home.”
“Gee, thanks!” I shout after her as she slips into her room. I take out my phone, my fingers hovering over the touchscreen keyboard. I should at least text him or something, ask him to meet me tomorrow so that I can break things off with him in person. He might be clingy, but he’s the only person who knows my secret, the only guy who’s made me feel sexy just as I am.
I let the screen dim and tiptoe into our bedroom, clicking on my desk lamp and guiding the door shut behind me. I change into pajamas and turn the sound off on my phone before climbing into bed. I know I can’t ignore Max forever, but I just need some more time to figure out what the heck I’m going to say.
***
“Carly Dragonjac!” Victoria shouts over the buzz of voices swelling in the living room. She’s sitting on the floor with her back resting against the couch. Her laptop is propped on her knees as she marks attendance in a spreadsheet.
“I’m right here!”
Victoria gives a start at the sound of Carly’s voice behind her. “Didn’t see you back there.” Her eyes flicker to where I’m sitting beside Carly on the couch. “Siobhan’s here,” she mutters to herself, blinking against the brightness of the computer screen as she marks an “x” next to my name. “Tanya Giuseppi!”
“Hewe!” Tanya calls out around a mouthful of brownie. She comes out of the kitchen balancing a silver tray in one hand and starts passing out brownies to the clump of sisters congregated on the living room floor.
“Elizabeth Grant! Liz!” Victoria repeats after a beat. There’s still no answer. “Where is Liz?” she grumbles in exasperation.
“This is last minute,” Carly reminds her. “Maybe you should cut her some slack.”
“It’s five o’clock on a Friday. I know she doesn’t have class,” Victoria insists, “and it’s too early for people to be going out.” She calls out the rest of the names, then closes her laptop and stands up. “Okay, we’re going to get started!” Her commanding voice slices the air and cuts off the excited chatter. I don’t think I know anybody else who could silence a room full of sorority girls so quickly. Tanya sits down next to Carly and offers us the platter of brownies. We each take two.
“Today I have the pleasure of officially introducing our new house mother.” Victoria gestures to Farrah, who gets up from the other couch to the tune of fifty pairs of snapping fingers. “I hope you will all join me in welcoming Farrah to our chapter.”
“I guess Farrah doesn’t have a last name,” Carly whispers. “She’s like Madonna. Or Kesha.”
“House mother by day, trashy pop star by night,” Tanya mutters back, which sends the three of us into quiet snickers. Victoria shoots us a warning glare, and our mouths snap closed.
“Thank you, Victoria.” Farrah steps forward to take over. “I’m so excited to be here.” She’s wearing that little black dress I saw her putting away last night, its cowl neckline revealing just a hint of cleavage. The heels of her scarlet red patent leather pumps click against the hardwood floor as she walks back and forth while speaking.
“I hope you won’t see me as some kind of babysitter.” She casts a sideways glance to where I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch. “I know you are all bright, responsible young women. What I hope to be is a valuable advisor and mentor so that Gamma Lambda Phi continues to be a positive force on this campus.
“But we can’t do so without first strengthening our organization from within. That’s why weekly ritual practices are especially valuable.”
“Oh, we only hold ritual practice once a month,” Victoria interjects. A few groans have gone up around the room.
“Ladies.” Farrah’s disapproving gaze sweeps the room. “We need to treasure our ritual. It strengthens the bond of our sisterhood. We will have ritual practice every week, after our chapter meeting on Sundays.” Victoria frowns, but keeps her mouth shut.
“I would also like to remind everyone that according to the House Rules curfew is midnight during the week and two a. m. on Friday and Saturday.”
“Yeah, but we don’t actually uphold that—” I try to tell her.
“We’re going to start,” Farrah talks over me. “Those times are completely reasonable.”
“But what if we want to stay over at a…um, friend’s place?” Tanya wonders.
Farrah gives her a sweet, understanding smile. “Then you can let the house manager know.” Carly’s curls oscillate as she straightens up, beaming. “But remember: No boys in the house after midnight on any night.” Why is she looking directly at me? It’s not like there’s tons of male traffic going into and out of my room. I’ve never even had Max spend the night.
“I know these little changes will take some getting used to,” Farrah concludes, “but we need to be at our best. Our patron goddess was the Ancient Greeks’ paragon of victory, after all. I want Nike to shine through us every day. ‘Through strength of the mind, body and heart comes victory,’” she reminds us, quoting our motto. Still looking at the room at large, Farrah’s hand
darts out just as Tanya’s reaching for another brownie. “And we’re going to have to cut back on the sweets.” Tanya doesn’t seem to hear her, just looks down at her empty hand in confusion.
Despite the new rules—well, the old rules we’re going to start enforcing—Tanya, Carly and our sisters flock to her like butterflies to a flower when the meeting is over. I can’t blame them. Farrah just bubbles over with love, rainbows and unicorns for everyone.
Everyone except me.
“Don’t you look pretty,” Farrah is telling Carly later that evening as I’m coming down the stairs. She’s sprawled on one of the olive-colored couches with the latest issue of Marie Claire on her lap. “Have fun tonight!”
“Thanks!” Carly says on her way out the door.
“Where are you off to?” Farrah’s suspicious tone brings me to a stop a few inches from the door.
“A concert,” I tell her, my hand poised on the doorknob.
“Another one? Whose?”
I finally turn to face her. “My friend Jimmy has a band.”
“Cute. Well, have fun. And remember—two o’clock.” She taps her watch-less wrist twice.
“How could I forget?” I mumble and shut the door firmly behind me before she can get another word in.
Chapter 8
When Anna and I finally get to the concert, the crowd of students is already thick around the stage set up on the lawn outside of the student union at Shadesburg University, a state school sprawled in the middle of the city. Search and Destroy is last in a line-up of four bands playing their concert to kick off the fall semester.
We weave our way through the crowd, trying to get as close as possible to the stage. I see flashes of light out of the corners of my eyes as friends take pictures of each other with their phones, and the air is filling with a sweet-scented smoke. Above us the sun sends splashes of orange and pink across the slowly darkening sky. A pleasant breeze grazes my skin and ruffles the skirt of my red sundress. We decide on a spot behind a group of guys and girls all wearing the same lime green shirt with “The Green League” stamped in white lettering on the back. On stage a guy wearing brown corduroys, a white t-shirt and an orange beanie is tuning his acoustic guitar. The strumming fades when the student body president walks out onto the stage to say a few words.
“So, what were you talking to Jasper about the other night?” Anna asks, drawing my attention away from the speech. No one can hear it anyway because his mike isn’t working.
“He wanted to go someplace after the concert and talk, but I said maybe some other ti—”
“—there we go,” Mr. President’s voice cuts me off when the microphone kicks in. “As I was saying, we’ve got a great concert for you tonight—”
“I think that was a wise decision!” Anna says in my ear.
“I need to talk to him at some point,” I insist.
“You really don’t. That guy rubs me the wrong way. I think you should just let it go.” Anna looks back at the stage, shielding her eyes from the setting sun with her hand.
“You’re right,” I tell her, a spasm of guilt shooting through my gut. She doesn’t know the whole story, at least not yet, so of course she doesn’t understand.
“First up, we have S.U.’s very own brother-sister duo Dreamscape,” the president is saying. A few cheers go up in the crowd. He walks off as a girl sits down on the stool in the center of the stage, reaching out to lower the microphone. Her brother takes up his guitar again.
After the folk sounds of Dreamscape, I suffer through another thirty minutes of Black Orchid. They’re followed by an all-girl punk rock band called Blood Rouge. When it’s Search and Destroy’s turn, Jimmy doesn’t make a grand entrance like he did at The End. He takes the stage with the rest of the band as they open with a familiar song. His bandmates are in jeans and t-shirts except for the keyboardist, whose black sequined vest flashes underneath the stage lights. Jimmy slinks, barefoot, back and forth across the stage as he bellows into the microphone, writhing and twisting to a hollering and screaming audience. Their set is energetic and boisterous, although it doesn’t sweep me up as much as last time. By the time they start their last song Jimmy’s face and chest glisten with sweat. He wipes his hair off his forehead and smiles as the audience continues to cheer and whistle.
“Thanks, you guys have been great tonight!” he shouts. “We’ve got one more song to do before we go. One my buddy Peter back here wrote—” He cocks his head back at the keyboardist. “—I know he’s hard to miss,” he adds, and everyone laughs, including Peter. “It’s called ‘Pain.’”
“You know how to hurt me,
You reach inside me, grab my heart
Squeeze, squeeze…
I watch my blood run through your fingers…”
He chants these vivid, angst-ridden lyrics over a sinister, muffled drum beat and clashing piano chords. At one point he crouches down to pick something up at the edge of the stage—an empty, amber-colored beer bottle. He breaks it on the floor and flourishes one of the jagged pieces in the air.
“Someone, stop this pain,
Stop, stop, stop my pain—” He howls, drawing the shard of glass across his chest. A red line trails along behind it.
I gag into my hands, and I have to look away. This is why I’ll never be able to go to medical school. Anna grimaces and, although I can’t exactly hear her, I think she’s saying something like, “What the hell is he doing?”
Around us the crowd is thunderous with admiration. I reluctantly look back at the stage. Not even wincing, Jimmy digs it into his skin a second time until there’s a bloody “X” on his chest.
“My blood runs cold,” Jimmy concludes with a loud whisper into the microphone. As an over-the-top drum solo ends the song, everyone around us is clapping and screaming.
“I can’t believe he did that!” I clutch my own chest protectively with my hand. Anna is already striding through the dissolving crowd, her head bent down over her cell phone.
“He’s such an idiot!” When she looks up at me, I can tell she’s holding back tears. “Come on, we have to find them. He’s going to have to go to the hospital.” I nod solemnly, and once the crowd thins out we finally reach the stage. Although I recognize some of the members from the other bands packing up backstage, Jimmy and Search and Destroy are nowhere to be found. Anna’s phone buzzes in her hand.
“It’s Peter.” Her lips move slightly as she reads the text to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration and confusion. “They left in a hurry to get to some party. Apparently Jim’s ‘fine.’” She rolls her eyes. “Look, Peter gave me the address—I’m going to head over there.”
“I want to come with you. If that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. Thanks.”
“Has he ever done this before?” I ask her once we’re racing down Jefferson Boulevard in her yellow truck.
“Never at any of his shows I’ve seen.” Anna puts on her turn signal and waits for a bus to pass us before switching lanes so she can turn left. “They’ve joked around before about him cutting himself on stage, but I didn’t take it seriously. I guess I should have.”
We get off the highway and make a few more turns that take us to a side street in a suburb I don’t know the name of. Anna parks and immediately jumps out of the car, slamming the door and stalking up to a pale gray house across the street. Music thumps from inside, shaking the walls and rattling the windows. As we approach, a tall lanky guy comes out onto the porch.
“Banana-fana fo-fanna,” I hear him singing once we’re within earshot. I wouldn’t have recognized Peter right away if it weren’t for his sequined vest. “Fee-Fi-mo manna, Anna!” He engulfs her in a sideways hug, but she shrugs away from him.
“Cut it out, Peter. Where’s Jimmy?” She shoves him out of the way so she can get to the door.
“Relax, love. I told you, he’s fine! Trust me!” Instead of going after her, he spins around and sticks out his hand to me. “Hello, I’m Peter.” With his ruf
fled blonde hair, twinkling blue eyes and infectious grin, he’s cute in a boyish, mischievous way, but the British accent gives him a sexy edge.
“Siobhan,” I tell him. He puts his hand on my back and ushers me inside the house. The living room bursts with people dancing and reeks of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat. Anna hasn’t made it very far and looks helplessly around the crowded downstairs.
“Seriously, don’t bother him, Anna!” Peter insists. He puts his arm about her shoulders again, and this time she sinks into him, defeated. “You need a drink. Siobhan, come meet the rest of the band!”
We take refuge in the kitchen, and Peter mixes Anna a gin and tonic. The other members of Search and Destroy, except for their lead singer, are playing cards at the kitchen table.
“Everyone, this is Siobhan,” Peter says, pushing me in front of him. “Siobhan, everyone.”
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.” I flash them a bright smile, which is met by three deadpan stares and snarling lips, as though they’re wondering why Peter let the perky blonde in.
“I’ll look around for Jimmy,” I say, turning back to Anna and Peter. “Just stay here and relax. I’m sure everything’s fine.” I look at Peter, and he silently points at the ceiling. I nod briefly to let him know I understand.
“Thanks,” Anna mumbles before taking another sip of her drink.
I have to sidestep around limb-locked couples as I climb the stairs. When I reach the top, I hear gentle guitar chords drifting from the bedroom to my right. The door is wide open, and Jimmy’s alone inside, sunk into a black bean bag chair. He stops playing when he sees me and waves me inside.
“How’s it going?” I ask casually, closing the door a little more than halfway behind me. He’s wearing a black t-shirt now. He sits up and readjusts himself, poised to resume playing.
“Look, Jim—” I start, but he holds up a hand to silence me.
“Wait. Listen,” he says and starts playing again before I can interrupt. I grudgingly sit down on the floor across from him. His voice, still slightly raw from the concert, wavers above the soft guitar melody. The lyrics speak of unforgettable memories and bittersweet reunions. They coax a smile onto my face and a blush onto my cheeks.
