When Abby and I grew restless, we tossed the tube in the water and climbed on top, declaring we were queens of the mountain. Everyone put forth a heroic effort, but no one could dethrone us. That is, until the three guys ganged up on us and tipped the massive tube over. Everyone had the opportunity to tube after that, and those of us with experience, took a turn on the wakeboard. It was late in the day, close to five o’clock, when we headed back to Carter’s Creek to give Emma the promised tour.
We were cruising into our dock when George asked, “What’re y’all doing tonight?”
Ben was quick to answer, “Laying low, man. Gonna throw some meat on the grill and then call it an early night.” He made a point of not inviting him to dinner, which is why we were all surprised when George showed up at our house two hours later.
We were all showered and dressed and watching Ben fry oysters in the summer kitchen. Before the renovations, the summer kitchen was little more than a one-room storage building with a fireplace, an old stove, and an icebox, as MayMay used to call it. With french doors offering access to the brick terrace, the outbuilding now houses a full-service kitchen with commercial-grade appliances and a small sitting area around the fireplace.
“Here,” George said, handing me a packaged rib eye when I opened the door for him. “Emma called and said to bring a steak.”
“Oh really? Did she also tell you to bring Abby?” I cut my eyes at Emma, who avoided my gaze.
“Abs is laid out on the sofa, sunburned,” George explained.
I rolled my eyes. “Because your sister, the summer goddess, gets sunburned so often.”
Ignoring me, George peered over Ben’s shoulder. “Are those oysters, man?”
Ben set a row of Ritz crackers on the counter and added a dab of tartar sauce to each. When his oysters were done, he removed the basket from the fryer and then carefully forked one on top of every cracker. “Here, Emma, try this.” He turned to her and popped an oyster appetizer into her mouth like a groom feeding his bride a piece of cake on their wedding day.
Spotty opened the refrigerator and tossed me a beer. “Why don’t you and I go start the grill?” When we were alone on the terrace, he opened his beer and guzzled down half of it. “I had to get out of there. I can’t watch another round of the love triangle.”
“For the most part, I really like Emma. Everything was fine between us until—”
“Your brother got in the picture.” Spotty pulled the cover off the grill and wheeled it to the edge of the terrace. “I’m warning you, Kitty, I have a horrible feeling about this. I can sense it from a mile away. The two of them are negative chemistry together.” Spotty reached beneath the grill to turn on the gas. “Negative chemistry with an explosive reaction.” He pushed the starter and the fire caught with a whoosh. “Like that.” He turned the knobs to lower the flames and began scraping the grates with a wire brush.
“You know, Spotty, you’ve always been good at helping Ben deal with his issues. But in this case, I think maybe you’re overacting.”
“That’s because you didn’t witness their X-rated performance last night. Haven’t you seen the way the two of them look at each other?” We watched through the french doors as Ben fed Emma another oyster. “See what I mean?”
Spotty and I continued to watch the scene unfold inside. Emma picked up an oyster from the tray on the counter and fed it to George. I turned my back on them and walked away. “I have to admit I don’t like the way she’s playing them off of one another. She’s holding a stick of dynamite, waiting to see who will light it first.”
“That’s not the way I see it at all. Emma is not making a play for both of them. She’s using George to make Ben jealous.” Spotty closed the grill lid and hung the wire brush on the side. “Speaking of George. I’ve been down here with y’all a lot over the years, so I feel like I know him well enough to say this. What he said about your parents today took a lot of balls.”
“No shit.” I took a sip of beer and licked my lips. “I’ve talked to Abby some about my mother’s problems, just as I’m sure Ben has with George, but to bring it up in front of everyone like that was just sick.”
Spotty nodded. “I think you and Ben need to watch your backs. I’m not sure George has your best interests at heart.”
Ben threw open the French doors and the three lovebirds joined us on the terrace, bringing with them another round of beers and the tray of oysters.
Ben lifted the lid to check on the progress of the grill. He scraped a little more gunk off the grates with the wire brush, closed the lid again, and lowered the flame. “I’m not ready to cook the steaks yet.” He downed the rest of his beer and crumpled the can. “The night is still young.”
“So much for calling it an early night,” I mumbled to Spotty.
“Hey, man, are your parents home?” George asked.
“Nope,” Ben answered. “They went to some party over in Weems.”
“In that case . . .” George pulled a bag of weed and a pipe out of his back pocket. He loaded the bowl and lit it with a Bic lighter, sucking hard from the pipe before handing it to Emma. After she took several tokes from the pipe, she offered it first to Spotty, who waved it away, and then to Ben.
Ben shook his head. “No thanks.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill,” Emma said, stomping her foot.
Ben ignored her. “Since when did you start smoking weed?” he asked George.
“Since my sister’s not here. Come on, dude. Everybody smokes.”
“Not everybody.” Ben grabbed Spotty’s shoulder and squeezed. “There are plenty of athletes who don’t want to pollute their bodies with that trash.”
“I hate to tell you this, but we’re not in high school anymore. Your chances of playing college ball are over,” George said, more to Spotty than to Ben, his insult like pouring rubbing alcohol over the open wound of his ruined lacrosse career.
“At least we were once good enough to be considered,” Spotty said, with clenched fists. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
“Calm down, boys.” Emma shoved the pipe toward me. “I know Katherine wants some. She’s a party girl, like me.”
“No thanks, Emma. I may be a party girl, but I have certain standards. Anyway, I’ve tried it before. I just don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“Look,” Ben said, “I don’t mind if you smoke it, but just go over there by the fence, away from us.”
Emma grabbed George by the hand and led him over to the edge of the property where they could finish their smoke away from our disapproving stares.
A few minutes later, I was exchanging texts with Yabba—not at all surprised to learn that she wasn’t sunburned and that George hadn’t told her he was coming over here for dinner—when they came stumbling back toward the house. George was dragging Emma along, both of them looking at me and laughing. At first I thought they were just high, but then George came over and kissed the top of my head. “We’re friends, right?”
Friends? I looked at him, confused. Was he asking if we were still friends after the things he’d said about my mother, or was he making sure that we were nothing more than friends?
“Of course we’re friends,” I said to George. “Why do you ask?”
“Well . . . ah . . . Emma may have mentioned that you have a—”
“Crush on you?” I asked and he nodded. “Don’t flatter yourself, George. I think maybe the weed is making you delusional.”
Six
Labor Day’s rain and fog provided us with the perfect excuse to head back to Charlottesville earlier in the day than we’d originally planned. I dropped my bag off in my room and went straight to the library where I sequestered myself for the rest of the week, away from the distractions of the dorm. It wasn’t until late Friday afternoon that Emma and I had our first real conversation. She tracked me down in Phoebe and Carla’s room across the hall.
Phoebe was from New Orleans and Carla from Vermont, and that’s where the similarities
between the two of them ended. Phoebe was a waif, barely passing the five-foot mark, but her silky black hair and dark eyes gave her an exotic look. Carla was big-boned and not necessarily pretty, although she would’ve been attractive if she brushed her hair and wore something other than baggy T-shirts and gym shorts every once in a while. Both of them were funny, and together, they were a regular stand-up comedy routine.
“Can I speak to you for a minute,” Emma asked me, appearing from nowhere in the doorway.
“Sure.” I shrugged but made no effort to move.
“Alone.” She turned her back on us, leaving me no choice but to follow her across the hall to our room.
“I sense you’re upset with me about something.” She patted the bed beside her, inviting me to sit. “You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
I lowered myself onto the bed. “I’ve been in the library all week, Emma, trying to get caught up.”
“Well . . . whatever it is you’re mad at me about, I’m bringing you a peace offering.”
“What kind of peace offering?” I asked, skeptical.
“A date. For the game tomorrow.”
As if I couldn’t get my own date. “What’s his name?”
“Will Chase.” She sat up taller and crossed her legs. “I’m going to the game with Will’s best friend, Hank McCarthy. The two of them grew up together in Tennessee. They’re good ole boys, fun and cute in a rednecky kind of way. So you’ll go?”
“I don’t know, Emma. I’d planned to study.”
She rolled her eyes. “Because everyone studies on Saturday. Please,” she begged, sticking her lower lip out in a pout. “His dorm is having a killer party afterwards, one we definitely don’t want to miss.”
“Oh, all right. I guess one afternoon away from the library won’t kill me.”
“Goody.” She bounced up and down on her bed a couple of times before turning serious again. “By the way, I spoke to my mother this week. Apparently my computer can’t be fixed. The ones in the library are so slow . . .”
“I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” I grabbed a piece of paper from the printer. “Let’s work out a schedule for us to share mine.” It made me feel good about myself to be able to share the things Emma didn’t have. As long as it wasn’t my brother.
When Ben texted me on Sunday afternoon to see if I wanted to play tennis, I suspected him of using me as an excuse to see Emma, until he suggested we meet at the courts instead of offering to come by my room.
“I saw you on the lawn yesterday,” he said, popping the top on a new can of balls. “Who’s the guy you were with?”
“Emma’s date’s best friend.” I watched Ben’s face closely, waiting for his brow to furrow or his eye to twitch. Instead, he surprised me by saying, “Good. I hope you had fun.”
I followed Ben out onto the court. “How ’bout you? Did you have a date?”
He nodded. “Maddie Maloney, a friend of Spotty’s.”
“Did you have a good time?” I asked.
He tossed me a tennis ball. “Actually, I did. Enough to ask her out again for next weekend.”
Ben was stronger and more agile, a much better tennis player than me, but we played together often. He used our sessions to work on his accuracy and placement while I simply tried to win as many points as possible. We were so hot and sweaty by the time we finished our second set, Ben suggested we get a cold drink.
We crossed Emmet Street and headed up the steps toward Newcomb Hall. “What about George last weekend?” Ben said. “Something’s not right with him.”
“He’s probably just worried about Yabba,” I said, shivering at the thought of Abigail’s malnourished body.
“No doubt there’s plenty to worry about. She looks like shit.”
We entered the west side of Newcomb Hall, purchased two vitamin waters from the student center, and then exited the east side to the patio dining area.
“I’m glad you’re here, Kitty. At UVA,” Ben said when we were seated at an umbrellaed table. “Our paths may not cross daily, but there are certain things I can help you with.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like I should brace myself for a lecture about using a fake ID on the Corner.”
“What? You have a fake ID?” He held his hands over his ears. “That’s information I definitely do not need to know.” When I laughed, he added, “I’m not joking, Kitty. Having a fake ID is a serious offense, as serious as underage possession. You need to be careful.”
“Relax. I don’t have a fake ID.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “What exactly is it you want to help me with?”
He stared at me, his expression both amused and concerned. “For starters, I have a couple of friends in the nursing program who’d be happy to give you some pointers.”
“By any chance are they friends of Honey’s?” I asked, taking a sip from my vitamin water.
I watched his face as he made the connection. “You mean Chi Delta Honey?” he asked, and I nodded. “Are you kidding me? Has she already been pressuring you about joining her sorority?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say she was pressuring me, although she did mention that Mom had gotten some of her friends to write letters for me. I wish Mom hadn’t done that, Ben.”
He guzzled half of his water and then set his bottle down on the table. “Listen to me, Kitty. In January, when it comes time for you to rush, if you even want to go through the process, you choose the house where you feel the most comfortable, where you like the girls the most, regardless of how much pressure you get from Honey or Mom or anyone else.”
“Did Dad insist you join KO?” My brother is a two-time legacy of the fraternity.
“What do you think? I got it from all sides, including Dock before he died. But I didn’t listen to them. I rushed every house, and if there’d been any doubt, I would’ve pledged somewhere else. Promise me you’ll do the same.”
“Mom would never forgive me,” I mumbled.
He drained the rest of his water and tossed the empty bottle into a nearby recycling bin like a basketball into a hoop. “Since when has that been a problem for you?”
“This is different, Ben, and you know it. We are talking about her sorority, her sisterhood. Being president of Chi Delta was her biggest accomplishment in life.” He started to argue with me, but I held my hand up to stop him. “Whatever. This isn’t something I have to decide today.”
“You’re right. You have plenty of time. But I’d like to be able to help you with decisions like these. I wish I’d had someone to guide me through my first year. What do you say we get together more often, maybe even once a week?”
“Who? You and me?” I held my breath, waiting for Ben to suggest we invite Emma to join us the next time.
“No Shrek and Donkey. Of course you and me.” He leaned back in his chair. “There are things you need to know, like applying for next-year’s housing. Are you aware that you have to turn your application in by the first of November?”
“Already? We’re only just getting settled into this year.”
He shrugged. “With so many students to place, I guess they have to get started early.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “What say we meet at the Virginian for brunch next Sunday?”
***
For the next six weeks, I managed to compartmentalize my life—family, school, social. Emma always had a date for me when one was needed, and many times when one was not. Everywhere we went she was the center of attention. At least amongst the guys. With the exception of Phoebe, Carla, and myself, Emma seemed to have trouble bonding with other females. She made her rounds at parties, introducing herself to all the other girls. But when I encouraged her to join a group from our hall for dinner or a movie, she always declined, although I often wondered if that had more to do with money than anything else. If her parents gave her any allowance, it was minimal. More and more she seemed frustrated over her finances.
Tired of hearing her complain, I asked her, “Why don’t you just get a job?”
“And when do you suggest I do that? I’m already working in the library for my financial aid, and my father insists I work for him, for free, during the summers.”
“It’s none of my business, Emma, but it doesn’t seem fair for your father to expect you to work for him without pay. Can’t he get another student to intern for him so you can get a job that pays?”
She grew quiet as she often did when something was on her mind. Her silence reminded me of Ben. The invisible wall would go up, and she would retreat inside her castle, alone.
It became our habit, Ben’s and mine, to try out a different restaurant every Sunday. When we were pressed for time, we’d walk down to the Corner, but when we were feeling more adventurous, we’d take his car over to the downtown mall. He surprised me on the first Sunday of October by bringing Maddie Maloney along. With shoulder-length black hair and big brown eyes, she was tall and lean, like a model, although her thinness was in disproportion to the amount of food she ate. In the span of an hour, I watched her polish off a chicken caesar wrap, finish what was left of Ben’s cheeseburger and french fries, and then split a hot fudge sundae with him for dessert.
Composed and graceful with a true sense of self, Maddie was the kind of girl I would’ve handpicked for my brother. I thought they had something special going, until I barged into my dorm room two weeks later and found him in a lip-lock with Emma.
“Try knocking next time,” Ben said, flustered, as though I’d barged in on him in our bathroom at home.
“Seriously? Last time I checked, this was my room.”
“Ben was just helping me get an eyelash out of my eye,” Emma said, rubbing her eye for added effect. “Guess what, Katherine? Ben just asked me to go with him to the Monster Bash.”
Every year the KO’s theme for their Halloween party was different. Last year everyone went as mummies, while the year before that, the success of the Twilight Series inspired a vampire theme. This year they’d planned a masquerade ball. The guests were to dress in black tie with scary masks to hide their faces. Emma was determined to go. She’d been obsessing over getting a date for weeks.
Saving Ben Page 6
