She snorts and crosses her legs. “Do go on.”
“Anyway, Lisa and I were at Yacht Club then we ran into some fraternity guys and we went back to their house for an after-hours. Then we did shots. Then it all got fuzzy. Then I woke up on a pullout couch in the formal living room. And before you ask, yes, I was clothed.” I take Joanna’s hairbrush and try to tame my back-combed mane. A cigarette butt falls out of it as I wrestle it into an elastic band. We both pretend we don’t notice while I rinse it down the sink.
Joanna talks to my reflection. “Points for being dressed. Yay, you, right?”
I glower at her. “I was sleeping next to Dave.”
“Dave Dave?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You hate Dave.”
“Yeah, apparently not anymore.” I snarl at my reflection. “Hey, which one of these is your toothbrush?”
She shudders. “None of them.” I brush as best I can with my index finger and a squirt of Aquafresh. “You’re accounted for—so what happened to Lisa?”
“Good question. She disappeared. By the way, can you drive me back to her place? All my things are there.” I spit and rinse, wiping my mouth on one of Joanna’s hand towels. She grabs it and stuffs it in the trash.
“I don’t have cooties.”
“You woke up next to Dave Dave. You might.”
I consider this. “Point well taken. Anyway, can you drive me?” “Sure. You wanna go now?”
“Nah. Let’s give it a bit. Lisa lives in the Acres and it’ll take her a while to do the walk of shame all the way up that hill.”
“I woke up naked in a dentist’s chair.”
I try not to choke on my Diet Coke while I digest Lisa’s statement. We’re kicked back in the TV room at her sorority house on a big L-shaped couch. There are hungover girls sprawled across every surface in the room. This looks kind of like the battlefield scene from Gone With the Wind, except instead of Union uniforms they’re all wearing Greek letters. (Also? They weren’t watching MTV back then.)
After hanging out at Joanna’s, I finally reconnected with Lisa around noon today. I tell her, “I woke up fully clothed next to Dave Dave. You win.”
Lisa rakes a hand through her spiral perm. “Yeah? What’s my prize?”
“Crabs?” I venture. She throws her empty plastic cup at me. “Seriously, how did you get there? Were you in an actual dentist’s office?”
She frowns. “Jesus, no! Someone had the chair in their room at the fraternity house. Dead dentist grandfather or something along those lines.”
“How did you get from just being in a room to a total state of undress?”
“How did I get there?” Lisa snaps. “I vaguely recall some bitch in a leopard skirt and lavaliere saying, ‘Oh, come on, do another shot. What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ Fortunately, Ted says it was totally platonic.”
“Then what’s with the naked?”
“He said he didn’t want me to ralph on my party clothes.”
“And in a fraternity full of men, not a single one had a spare T-shirt?” I ask. Lisa just shrugs. It’s best not to dwell on the details. 122
“What’s the plan for the rest of the day? We gonna rally and head back to Harry’s for dinner?” Lisa was a sweet, innocent math major when we first roomed together. She was just a nice kid with a penchant for big acrylic sweaters, stuffed unicorns, and Val Kilmer posters. Then I took her to her first fraternity party on Halloween. I went as a waitress and we turned her into a bunch of grapes, affixing purple balloons to a little lavender camisole and a pair of purple tap pants. Turns out when alcohol is involved, it’s really fun to pop balloons and Lisa kind of ended the night in nothing but balloon shards and a skimpy set of underwear. Um . . . sorry?
Although I may not have been the world’s best influence, here’s the thing—you can only corrupt those who are open to corruption. Besides, her life’s totally more fun now.123
“Nope, gotta head home. I’ve got my chapter meeting tonight. Hey, did I tell you I was elected rush chairman?”
Lisa whips around to face me and she suddenly turns quite pale. “No!”
“What ‘No!’? I’ll be great at running rush. I’ve got a ton of ideas and I’m super-enthusiastic about them.” Need I remind anyone I was elected Best Rusher? Unconsciously, my hand goes to touch my necklace.
Lisa lies back down and braces herself like the room suddenly got spinny. And then she mumbles, “May God have mercy on them all.”
To All My Lovely Sisters!
Here’s the quick and dirty on some new rush rules.
Amendment to Jen’s Rules for a Supercool Rush
Yes, everyone is expected to help set up for rush. EVERYONE. Our decorations are elaborate and we need all hands on deck for the construction. If you think I’m hanging 1,000 stars from the ceiling myself, you’re freaking crazy. And you haven’t been paying attention.
You WILL know all the words to all the songs. There is no excuse not to know them, barring, like, a brain tumor or something. And when you’re singing, you are representing your spirit in your sorority. Not knowing the words makes us look like amateurs. THERE IS NO SEX IN THE CHAMPAGNE ROOM AND THERE IS NO BAD SINGING IN
SORORITY RUSH. Feel free to practice the tunes in the shower if that’s what you need to do to improve. I’ll be handing out awards for the best and most enthusiastic songstress. Lyric sheets have been placed in each of your mailboxes. Understand I WILL be watching you.
Adhere to the dress code. Period. If this is problematic, borrow from your sisters. If your sisters find this problematic, talk to me.
Please pay extra-special attention to your grooming. Ideally, I’d like to see every woman in blush, mascara, and lipstick, at the bare minimum. Obviously we don’t want to present ourselves as something we’re not, but we do want to make the very best impression. Use of basic cosmetics will show rushees we care about looking nice for them. This isn’t an outrageous request and I’ll not take your flack about it.
Check your ’tude at the door. Rush is a stressful time and often tempers and patience can run short. Let’s all work together to keep our bad attitudes away from rush parties. The rushees don’t need to know we were all up ’til four a.m. with the selection process. As far as they’re concerned, we’re having pajama parties, not violent arguments.
Again, never forget that rush is FUN. We get to give the gift of membership to others! The rush interest group will be working to keep your spirits up with special treats and awards! Your positive attitude WILL be noticed . . . and rewarded!
Pi Love and Mine,
Jen Lancaster, Rush Chairman
P.S. Never forget you are a reflection of this chapter—conduct yourselves with grace and dignity everywhere you go!
P.P.S. I expect whichever jokester glued a Hitler mustache on my composite photo will remove it
IMMEDIATELY.
“Hey, Trix? It’s Jen. Can you do me a quick favor? I’m going to be late to the meeting tonight and I need you to have the rush interest groups get together. . . . Yeah, yeah, rough weekend. . . . You’ll die when I tell you the story. . . . Short version? A bunch of my fraternity guy friends kidnapped me and made me go on walkout with them. . . . I’m actually calling you from a pay phone somewhere between Champaign-Urbana and Fort Wayne. . . . I know, crazy, right? Totally fun. Except when I had to use the men’s room. . . . Yeah, well, maybe I thought the urinals could have also been planters or something. . . . Whatever, tell them I’ll be there. . . . Uh-huh, definitely tell them I’ll be watching them. Bye!”
Ladies,
Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. It pains me to have to instruct you all this way. But after the way our preliminary party went, I’ve no choice but to give this gentle reminder about courtesy. Believe me, you’ll be saying, “Thank you, Jen!” when our next event rolls around.
Yet Another Amendment to
Jen’s Rules for a Supercool Rush
First impressions are CRUCIAL, so ma
ke them count! Introduce your sister so you show that you are proud of her. Perhaps try to include something the rushee has in common during the introduction, like, “This is Amy—she’s a bio major, too!” Please never let me hear you squeal, “Ohmigod, I think the Sig Eps are total douchehounds, too!” There is no douchehound in sorority rush. Say it again and fines will be assessed.
Mention the rushee’s name early and often. Try to remember it so you don’t have to keep looking at her name tag. Stare at her chest too much and she’ll worry you’re assessing the size of her rack. Not cool. If you don’t remember her name later (UNACCEPTABLE), then just say hello. Again, do not crane your neck to check out her tag. Be subtle.
Express an interest in your rushee’s topic of conversation. She is NOT boring, she’s nervous. Try to remember what it was like when you were rushing. Give her plenty of positive feedback. Smile sincerely. Again, I’ll be watching.
Your rushee is your first and ONLY responsibility. Never ignore her to check out more interesting conversation
in other groups.124 Stay with your rushee as long as you are responsible for her. Pretend she’s the ocean and never turn your back on her.
Maintain good eye contact. However, keep in mind there’s a thin line separating a friendly, encouraging glance from the piercing glower of the psychopath. Mandy, knock it off or you WILL pull kitchen duty.
Serve the rushee first at the buffet or the table. You are the hostess. And God help you if you don’t eat, too. Do NOT make them feel uncomfortable if they choose to indulge in our delish sugar cookies.
Last impressions LAST. Their last impression is just as important as the first. Give your rushee complete attention until she is out the door, which you will have escorted her to. Say good-bye with a big smile, but not so big that she worries you’re glad she’s gone,
MANDY.
Don’t forget, your good attitude is contagious!
Yours in the bonds of wine and silver blue,
Jen Lancaster, Rush Chairman
P.S. My eyes are on you.
P.P.S. If I ever hear you say, “I’ve got to pass you off to someone else now,” I will kick you so hard your babies come out naked.
Lisa,
The fact you’ve heard about my rush reputation in an entirely different sorority at a school a hundred miles away only serves to prove how good I am at it.
Let them all learn something from me, why don’t they?
Jen
Ahem, Ladies,
Yes, did you hear that? It was the sound of me sighing. LOUDLY. I mean, really, have we all forgotten how to have a polite conversation, really? Do I have to reiterate that no matter how good our skits, songs, and décor are (major snaps to Trix!), the rushees will remember what we said the most? It’s imperative that we make every word count because we’ve only got so much time. So here goes:
Seriously, Another Amendment
to Jen’s Rules for a Supercool Rush
You must effectively communicate unless you WANT to lose all our favorite girls to the Delta Gammas. You guys? They read from The Velveteen Rabbit at their last party. Christ, we should be able to beat them by selecting passages from the book about the babysit-ting Rottweiler. The bar has not been set that high! We can do this!
Be yourself! Let the rushees get to know the real you, because you don’t want them to join based on the false persona you present to them. Never forget they’re more nervous than you. Make it your job to put them at ease. Be natural! Remember that you’re making new friends, like, for life, or at least until graduation or when you transfer back to the main campus.
Try a number of conversational topics with your rushee. Find the one she’s most interested in and go from there. Ask open-ended questions, rather than yep-and-nope questions. Be sure to be an active listener! But don’t be afraid of silence. Also, not every girl will make it into our house so we don’t want to make them DIE for something they won’t have.
Don’t oversell us. We don’t want to present ourselves in a false light. This sorority is a lifetime commitment and we want them to join us for who we are, not who we say we are.
Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, please complete this phrase: “Now when you go up yonder to see the heavenly view / Saint Peter will run to greet us and say, ‘You’ll surely do! / You’ve sisters more who’ve come before _______________’ ”
Don’t know the answer? THEN REVIEW YOUR BOOKLET OF FORMAL RUSH SONGS. (Don’t you want the best songstress award?)
Pi Love and Mine,
Jen Lancaster, Rush Chairman
P.S. You know what? Introducing me as “Pol Pot” made those rushees feel really uncomfortable. They thought the Khmer Rouge was a party they’d missed. Say it again and fines will be levied.
P.P.S. I’ll be awarding a gold lavaliere and arrow charm to whoever best embodies all the principles of a successful rush. You know you want it—so work for it.
Audra,
If you find out who started the “Free at Last, Free at Last” chant after the final rush party, please let me know.
Heads will roll.
Jen
Dénouement
(Gold Lavaliere, Part Three)
My eyes fly open.
What the—?
Where am I?
I reach out into the darkness and feel a wall. It’s cold with smooth tiles. I try to find a place to grip, but it’s too flat and glossy.
Am I in jail?
If so, then why is it pitch black? Aren’t prisoners always complaining about the fluorescent lights, how they’re never off? And how they provide a low-frequency buzz that quickly becomes maddening?
When I shift, I realize I’m wedged into a small space.
Am I dead?
Is this my coffin? There’s something pressing down on the left side of my body. Is it the weight of the earth?
But, wait, if I were in a coffin, wouldn’t someone have given me a little silk pillow at least? And why is it so cold?
And if I were dead, would my knee still hurt? And would I be . . . hungover? Did I drink so much last night that my hangover followed me into the afterlife? Is that possible?
I’ll be honest, I thought my postlife would be hotter. Figured there’d be a bit more brimstone and fire. Maybe a roomful of people (mostly attorneys if all those jokes are to be believed) shoveling coal for all eternity while a red-horned guy beat them with a cat-o’-nine-tails?
But this?
Right here?
Maybe this is purgatory. Cold, dark, smooth, solid purgatory.
Although . . . I swear I hear snoring. Why would there be snoring in purgatory?
Before I can contemplate any more about the afterlife or my own demise, the whole room is suddenly flooded with light and I am blinded.
I hear my friend Suede shout, “Get out of the tub, you fucking morons!” and then the door slams.
Oh.
That makes more sense.
When my eyes adjust, I see that I’m crammed into a giant Victorian bathtub with my friend Garrison from my brother’s fraternity. My shoes are missing, but other than that everything seems to be intact. I’m still wearing a sweater, walking shorts, and a pair of plaid tights. They have big holes in the middle and my knees are a bloody mess. That explains the pain.
Garrison begins to wake up. “Fuck, what is that?” he asks, pawing at his throat. He extracts a small gold arrow charm that has somehow gotten lodged in his neck. “Yours?”
“Thanks.” I take off my necklace so I can reattach the charm to its tiny golden hoop. “Sorry about that.”
“Why are we in a tub?” he asks.
“Don’t know.”
“Where are we?” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and scans our surroundings.
“Maybe Suede’s house?” That would explain the yelling, at least.
He nods quietly. “Huh. Hey, are you freezing?”
“Yes.”
He smiles, showing the small dimple on his right cheek. “I can
fix that.” With one swift tug, he yanks down the shower curtain and pulls it over us like a blanket. “I’m going back to sleep. You in?”
“Um, I think I’ll try to find my shoes and maybe my purse. I’ve got to get out of here. Good to see you though.” I give him a quick kiss and extricate myself from the tub, only slightly stumbling as I get up.
“Gonna be around at Harry’s later?”
“Can’t—I’ve got a double shift tomorrow and I’ve got to get back for chapter tonight. I’m on a committee and we have an important meeting—”
He bolts straight up. “Oh, God, you’re not still running rush are you?”
Why does everyone keep asking me that?
“No, no, that ended a while ago. Now I’ve got an interesting position. I didn’t actually run for it—I kind of got it by default since I’m the only senior member who doesn’t currently hold office.”
“Yeah? What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m the chairman of our chapter’s Morality Board, which means I—”
Garrison doesn’t let me complete my sentence. “You? Jen Lancaster? With Dave Dave? Morality Board? Chairman?”
“Yeah, and we’ve had a pledge who’s really been behaving badly. I’ve got to head to a meeting to discuss what we’re—” I can’t finish what I’m saying because Garrison is laughing too hard. Five minutes later, he’s still sputtering and choking, slapping the sides of the tub. I turn on the faucet and run out the bathroom door.
Pretty in Plaid: A Life, A Witch, and a Wardrobe Page 16
