by S. L. Stacy
While Victoria and Peter sit back down at the bar, Jimmy pulls me up against him and kisses me hard. I put my hands against his chest and pull away. He makes a confused noise in his throat.
“Okay, what is going on?” I ask him. There’s a growing list of reasons why I shouldn’t be kissing Jimmy—number one being I just had mind-blowing sex with Jasper. “No one told me we made up.”
To my surprise, Jimmy just laughs. He still has a limp arm around my waist and gently massages my lower back with his hand. “I thought we made up pretty well the other night.”
“Don’t touch me right now,” I tell him, and he drops his hand, his laughter fading. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The other night,” he says softly, with less conviction. “When we slept together. I don’t know how you could forget that.”
“I didn’t forget. We never slept together.”
“Siobhan—”
“It never happened. When was this?” I cross my arms.
“Friday night.”
I think back to last Friday night—the first night of recruitment. The night we went to the Sigma Iota party. The night Carly disappeared.
Also the night I took a wasted Anna home.
“Jimmy, I wasn’t with you that night.” My voice has lost its angry edge. I feel sad, and a little bit nauseous. From the way his face is turning a greenish gray, Jimmy must be feeling the same way. “I was at a party. Anna was there. She was really drunk, and I took her home. Ask Peter. He was there.”
“I…I believe you.” Jimmy gulps, looking everywhere but at me. “I’m pretty sure I had sex with someone that night. I was pretty sure it was you. But if it wasn’t—”
“It was Apate,” I realize, covering my mouth with my hands. Apparently she can’t get anyone to sleep with her without pretending to be someone else.
Jimmy looks doubtful. “You know I’ve met her before. You two don’t look anything—”
“She tricks people,” I explain. “Makes them see whatever she wants them to. She made you think you were sleeping with…with me. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Jimmy. I’m so, so—”
“Don’t worry about it. Just…forget I said anything.” Hunching his shoulders, he sweeps past me, heading for the kitchen.
“Don’t go. Jimmy!” I shout, but he pretends not to hear me. I have to lock my knees to keep myself from going after him. Whatever humiliation I felt when I found out Apate was behind my hallucinations, I’m sure Jimmy’s is exponentially worse. At the time, I had grown attached to the idea of a person—the memory of Jasper. Jimmy had thought he was taking the next step with someone he cared about—someone who is very much here and very much not on the same page as him.
That’s it. The next time I see Apate, I’m going to strangle her. It might not kill her, but it will feel so good to sink my fingers into her neck. I picture her wine red lips parted as I choke every last drop of breath out of her, squeezing harder and harder—
“Ouch.” The shield pendant, hidden underneath my shirt, heats up again, throbbing wildly in response to my murderous daydream.
Or maybe it put the thought there in the first place.
Chapter 20
That night, I dream of Carly.
She’s hanging suspended in a dark, empty place, unmoving, eyes closed. With all of the color drained from her face, she looks strangely innocent, like a porcelain doll. I imagine I see tiny fissures in her cheeks and around her eyes, like cracked china. When blood starts to weep from the cracks, I realize I’m dreaming, and jolt awake.
It’s another gray, chilly day. The air is dense—not just with impending rain, but with the guarantee that something bad is going to happen. I can’t shake the feeling all day. I sense eyes on me, glancing inconspicuously as I wait in line at the library café to get some coffee or walk across campus to class. I tell myself I’m being paranoid, until I get to lab. The girl I share a fume hood with keeps looking over at me, timing her experiment so that we’re not using the hood at the same time. At one point I turn to ask her if she has an extra pipet, and she almost drops the bottle of hydrochloric acid she’s holding.
By the time I get back to the house, the rain is coming down in relentless sheets. I lower my umbrella, shaking it outside before going into the house. My rain boots trail water onto the hardwood floor. I pull them off and add them to the small mountain of shoes next to the door. Carly complained that no one ever listened to her about chores, but she must have been doing something right. Without her around, the state of the common areas are slowly devolving into chaos. There are crusty dishes and bowls on the tables and all manner of clothes, backpacks, books, laptops, phone chargers, food wrappers, make up bags and even a few deflated balloons from recruitment covering the floor and couches. I sidestep around what looks like someone’s art project on my way toward the stairs.
“Twin!” Tanya says, coming out of the kitchen. She’s looking at something on her phone. “Did you see the latest on The Grapevine? Victoria’s not too happy.” She hands me her phone. My heart comes to a screeching halt in my chest, because at first all I see is a solemn, but still very sexy, mug shot of Jasper. “Scroll down,” Tanya adds.
I obey, reading the accompanying caption to myself: “You may have heard about the graduate student that went missing a few weeks ago, last seen with his girlfriend at her sorority house. Now one of her sisters has gone missing, too. I’m not pointing any fingers, but, well, you saw their formal photos. You don’t want to piss these ladies off!”
It was posted around seven a.m. this morning, by Lady Blah Blah.
“This is definitely personal,” says Tanya.
“I’m not sure that it is, though.” I give her the phone back and collapse onto the couch. “I think she’s trying to be funny. Only it’s not. It’s really, really not.” I remember how skittish my lab neighbor was today, like a frightened animal. “Everyone knows the post is talking about us. They’re going to think—God, they’re going to think we did something to Jasper and Carly.”
“We did do something to Jasper,” my roommate reminds me.
“You know what I mean. They’re going to think—oh, I don’t know, that we killed him and disposed of his body somewhere!” When he’s actually safely ensconced inside his apartment, twiddling his thumbs, while we’re entering crisis mode.
“I can’t believe this!” Victoria exclaims, jogging down the stairs. “This is the worst thing that could possibly happen to us right now!”
“Tell me about it,” I grumble.
“I don’t even get it!” She throws her arms up in the air in exasperation. “This person couldn’t have known Jasper was here the day of the ceremony. No one could have. Farrah and I made sure of it. We were so careful. No one outside of the sorority could possibly know! Unless someone told them, but I know none of you would do that!”
This time, I’m pretty sure my heart plummets all the way to my knees, exits my body and crashes through the floor.
Anna. I told Anna.
“Siobhan?” Victoria stoops to look at me, her face so close to mine she could bite my head off. “Why are you making that face? What did you do?”
“She didn’t do anything!” cries Tanya, hopping to my defense.
“I…I might have told someone,” I say quietly, playing with my hands in my lap. “I may have told Anna some things.”
I don’t look up at my big sister, but I feel a breeze as she straightens up. A deathly silence permeates the room. Then: “You. Told. Anna.” I give a small nod, so tiny I’m hoping maybe she missed it. “You told Anna?”
“I’m sure she’s sorry—” Tanya tries to interject.
“What were you thinking?” Victoria explodes. Thunder cracks outside. The rain falls even harder, beating against the roof and windows like thousands of fists trying to break their way inside. “No, seriously, Siobhan—what made you think it was okay to tell Anna anything about the sorority? About Jasper? What exactly did you tell her?”
&nb
sp; I can’t gloss over the truth any longer. “Everything. I told her pretty much everything.” I steal a glance at Victoria. Her nostrils are flaring, her owl-like eyes about to pop out of her head. She’s purple.
“Those were supposed to be secrets. The truth about the sorority. The threat of war. Our mission. It’s not really any different from before. We’ve always had secret rituals meant to strengthen the bonds of sisterhood. Only if you had blurted any of those—it would have been enough to get you kicked out, maybe, but in the scheme of things, not so dire. But Gamma Lambda Phi’s true purpose is super-secret. Its members have protected it for thousands of years. Until you go blabbing about it to one of your friends—”
I stand up, feeling a rush of anger. “I wasn’t blabbing—”
“Oh, okay, what would you call it, then—”
“Anna deserved to know the truth—and not just because she’s my friend. She’s dating Eric, you know. She’s a part of this, too!”
“Maybe.” Victoria shrugs like she could care less. “Then she could have heard it from Eric. It didn’t need to come from you.”
“I don’t know how this person found out about it, but it wasn’t from Anna,” I insist, keeping my voice steady, hoping it doesn’t betray even a hint of my doubt. “I’m sure of it. We can trust her.”
“Trust Eric’s girlfriend?” She gives a snort of derision. “I doubt it.”
“I’ll go talk to her. I can fix this—”
“You’ve done quite enough.” For a moment, Victoria’s acidic tone reminds me of Farrah’s. “I don’t know what to do with you, Siobhan. You know yourself you don’t really belong here.”
My jaw moves up and down uselessly before I find the words. “You can’t mean that. You wanted me to stay!”
“And I still feel that way. But Farrah doesn’t. The truth is, you’re not one of my descendants, you don’t really belong here, and Farrah’s just looking for an excuse to kick you out. And you just might have given her the perfect one.” She turns and runs back upstairs.
I look at Tanya—for what, I don’t even know. Help. Reassurance. She gapes at me like she doesn’t even know who I am anymore.
“How could you do this to us?” she says, then goes after Victoria.
***
I try calling Anna for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Once again, it rings a few times and goes to voicemail.
I end the call without leaving a message. I’ve tried texting her, but haven’t gotten any response to those, either. Anna and I left things on pretty good terms the other day. I don’t know why she’s ignoring me. I guess I could try Jimmy, but I really don’t want to unless I absolutely have to.
In the end, I put on a sweatshirt, grab an umbrella and head out into the black and blue twilight.
The rain has stopped for the time being. The air is cool and smells like damp earth. I break out into a light, steady jog, cutting across campus, where people are getting out of their evening classes. Beyond the campus limits, the streets are empty, the neighborhoods inert and peaceful. Occasionally I see someone going for a run or walking their dog, but almost everyone must have stayed in tonight because of the rain.
Anna’s block is particularly lifeless. A few of the streetlights are out, throwing everything into an uneasy darkness. I run up Anna’s porch and ring the doorbell. When no one answers, I try knocking, then the doorknob. It opens with a click. I hesitate a moment before going inside.
“Anna!” I call out, purposely making a lot of noise as I walk inside and close the door. “Anna, it’s me!” An eerie silence is my only answer. I guess no one’s home, but I don’t know why they’d leave the door unlocked. Or all of their lights on. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end as I walk slowly through the living room. As I approach the door to the kitchen, I see something pale lying limply on the white floor tiles.
A hand.
Heart pounding, I push myself forward, seeing a little bit more with each step. A wrist. A forearm. An elbow. And when I’m finally standing in the doorway, I can see all of her stretched out on the floor, eyes closed like she’s sleeping.
“Anna,” I whisper, sitting down beside her body, so still, so relaxed. It blurs as tears sting my eyes. “Anna. Oh, God, Anna!” I lean over her as I wail her name over and over again, my tears spotting her flannel shirt. “Wake up. Wake up!” I beg her, shaking her shoulders. The force of my hands makes her head roll from side to side. When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t even blink, another sob rips through me, and I rest my forehead on her shoulder, crying into the folds of her shirt.
A warm puff of air grazes my cheek. I choke on my tears, peeking over at her face. I hold my hand underneath her nose. Another exhalation of air brushes it.
I straighten up, drying my cheeks with my sweatshirt. She’s breathing. Oh, thank God, she’s breathing. I fumble my phone out of my pocket and call someone without really thinking about who I’m calling. As it rings, I notice the amber-colored bottle with an eyedropper cap on the table. It’s half empty. I flash back to the memory of Aphrodite offering me a glass of adulterated red wine—and of collapsing after only a few sips, gasping for air as I died…
“Hello?” Peter’s voice crackles in the phone.
“Peter!” I cry out. “Thank God. Look, I came over to your house, and I…I found Anna, lying on the floor. She’s breathing, but I think she overdosed on ambrosia.”
“Have you called for an ambulance yet?”
I shake my head, feeling stupid, then realize he can’t see me. “No.”
“Okay, call Victoria first, then call 9-1-1. Jimmy and I will meet you at the hospital.” Peter hangs up. I only hesitate a second before calling Victoria—not really wanting to, but knowing I don’t have any other choice.
“Hey, Siobhan,” Victoria answers. “Look, where are you? I feel horrible about earlier, I really want to—”
“I’m at Anna’s right now, and she’s overdosed on ambrosia,” I tell her in a rush. “We need your help.”
“I’m on my way. What’s the address?”
I give her Anna’s address, hang up and call 9-1-1. Then, I sit and wait, placing my hand on Anna’s cheek every once in a while to make sure she’s still breathing. At some point—I’ve lost track of time—I hear a thump on the roof, then some scraping sounds. I race to the front door, opening it to find Victoria jumping down from the roof as her giant white wings absorb into her back.
“I figured flying was faster,” she says as she follows me through the door and into the kitchen. “Prop her up for me.”
I guide Anna into a seated posture. Victoria takes a vial out of her pocket. It’s filled with a clear liquid. She sucks some of it into the dropper and gently coaxes Anna’s lips open, squeezing it onto her tongue.
“You were right to call me,” Victoria says, letting Anna’s mouth fall closed and screwing the lid back on the vial. “I think there’s still time for the antidote to kick in. But if we had waited any longer…”
The drone of a siren cuts her off. Victoria goes outside to meet the paramedics. I’m still holding onto Anna when her eyelids start to drift open.
“Siobhan?” she murmurs, looking at me underneath heavy lids. “Wha’ happened?”
“It’ll be okay,” I tell her. “The paramedics are here.”
“I jus’ wanted a little,” she slurs, resting her head on my shoulder. “To feel better.”
Once Anna’s safely in the ambulance, Victoria and I call a taxi to take to the emergency room. I text Peter on the way. He and Jimmy are already there. They meet us in the lobby.
“Why would she do this?” Jimmy wonders, plunking down in a chair in the waiting room. We all sit down around him. There’s a hollowness to his cheeks, the skin underneath his eyes dark. I can see the little red arteries in the whites of his eyes. He must be so worried about his sister.
I take his hand. He flinches, but doesn’t move away. “I don’t think she meant to. It was an accident.”
&n
bsp; “She’ll be fine,” Victoria assures him. “I gave her the antidote.”
“She came to just as the ambulance pulled up,” I add. Jimmy nods slowly, worry still wrinkling his forehead. Peter sits quietly next to him, one leg crossed over the other, biting his knuckles.
We sit like this for what feels like an eternity. Jimmy staring off into space, lips slightly parted. Peter crossing and uncrossing his legs, gnawing on his hand. Victoria distracting herself with a game on her phone. I watch the rerun of Seinfeld on the waiting room television, keeping my hand firmly on top of Jimmy’s.
When a doctor-looking person appears, striding in our direction, the four of us stand up eagerly.
“Are any of you family members?” he asks us.
Jimmy nods. “I’m her brother. These are our friends.”
The doctor nods. “Well, she has a concussion from the fall, and she needs some fluids, but otherwise she’s going to be fine.” We let out a collective breath.
“Can we see her?” Peter asks.
“How about two at a time.”
We all look at each other, trying to decide which of us should go in first.
“You two go ahead,” Peter says to me and Jimmy.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“Of course. You’re the one that…found her. I’m sure she wants to see you.”
Jimmy and I follow the doctor into Anna’s room. She’s sitting up in the hospital bed with a sterile white sheet pulled over her legs. Her long brown hair bulges out as she leans back into the pillow. A healthy, sun-kissed glow has returned to her skin. There’s an IV drip going in her arm.
Jimmy pulls up a chair next to the bed. “How are you feeling, sis?”
“Not too shabby. Thanks to my lady knight, here,” she says, giving me a weak smile.
“I didn’t do anything, except have good timing, maybe,” I say, perching on the foot of the bed. “Victoria’s the one who saved you.”
Anna raises her eyebrows. “Your sorority sister?”
I nod. “She gave you the antidote.”
For a moment, she frowns, looking like she wishes she could throw the antidote back up. “Well, I guess I should be grateful,” she finally says. “Tell her thank you for me.”
