Greek: Best Frenemies

by Marsha Warner

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be perfect.”

  For a moment, it seemed to be last year all over again to Evan—the white, heart-shaped bouquet of roses with the Omega Chi sweetheart ribbon over it, the women in gowns usually reserved for black-tie affairs and the champagne out long before it was due. The difference was, of course, that Casey wasn’t running, and he wasn’t dating her, and he wasn’t supporting her against Frannie. He was supporting Rebecca, who had her own troubles, though not all of them were her fault or even within her sphere of influence. She looked beautiful and unharried anyway, even if she was wearing silver instead of the traditional red.

  “Red would have clashed with my eyes,” she said. That was her opening statement to him as he went to personally greet her.

  “And hello to you, too.” He supported her perhaps a bit less than he had Casey, who was at the time the love of his life, but since then he had learned how fleeting things could be and to appreciate the little things—even if Rebecca wasn’t little, except physically. And there were certainly a lot of roses if he wanted to stop and smell them. “You look terrific.”

  “Thank you.” Her face betrayed a hint of a smile—a real smile, not a fake one. “Where’s the bar?”

  He gestured and she was off without another word, and he couldn’t color himself surprised. He greeted the rest of the attending ZBZs instead. “Hi, Case. Ashleigh.” They were appropriately dressed as well. Casey still looked fabulous, but Evan decided to hold his tongue on that. “I’m glad to see you both here.”

  “Surprise! We’re here! As if we weren’t going to be,” Ashleigh said with a laugh. “Seriously, who would miss this? If anything, the scandal—ooh! Mini hot dogs!” She ran off before she could say anything else embarrassing, and Casey gave a relieved sigh.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m used to much worse,” he said. “And I’ll be in for some really uncomfortable moments if Rebecca doesn’t win. I can’t wait for this contest to be over.”

  “Evan Chambers! How could you not support your brothers and Omega Chi tradition?”

  He kept his smile on for everyone else passing him. “I know some brothers with stronger feelings about Omega Chi traditions than I do, in the opposite direction.”

  “Oh, this will all blow over. It’s not house…burning. Wait, how did that become the litmus test for everything?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do you really have to ask?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Thank you for your support.”

  “See how much better it is this year?” Grant said to Calvin as they made their rounds to greet their guests. Despite the scandal, or perhaps because of it, the catering hall was packed with four sororities’ worth of stupendously dressed women.

  “After this week, how can you possibly say that?”

  “Because we’re both out and no one’s asking our opinions, and I don’t have to pretend to like every woman equally until the voting starts,” Grant said. “Also, nice ice sculpture.”

  “Swans are so uncreative.”

  “But it has a rose in its beak. That must have been hard to sculpt.”

  “True.” Calvin looked at Rebecca coming his way. “Hey, Rebeca. Good luck tonight.”

  “I don’t need luck,” she said. “Calvin. Grant.” She nodded to both of them. Her mood was hard to read, but she was here, and that was the point. “I see the Tri-Pis are in full display.”

  “We couldn’t find a reason to disqualify them. They put Melanie on probation, so that’s that. But you know, somehow I don’t think it’s going to hurt your chances.” He said the last in a whispered voice.

  “Thanks,” she replied in the same whisper and gave him a sly smile. Not that either of them expected different from her.

  Casey looked at her phone for the fourth time since arriving through the doors of the well-stocked catering hall. Cappie was still trying to get her to stop by, promising a “good time” for “his sweetheart.” It was cute, but she was busy—mostly with being concerned, as she still didn’t know what Rebecca was going to do and she certainly hadn’t won any points by not wearing red, but that was out of Casey’s hands now. If only she could stop worrying about it.

  She did get another text, this time from Rusty. “Cappie is on the ball,” it read. Whatever that meant. Her brother was supporting Cappie but seemed to be trying to indicate that Cappie had something planned to make up with her, even if all she wanted was a show of responsibility. What was he planning? There was no way to tell from the messages, and she had more important things for the moment as they were called to the area with the podium for the beginning of the sweetheart speeches.

  Rebecca was last. That was by her own design—she specifically requested it, and the confused Omega Chi acting as concierge immediately agreed. Some people truly didn’t understand politics.

  Natalie of Gamma Psi put on a brave face and went first. It was to her credit that she didn’t outright mention her house burning down, as it was the bright pink elephant in the room, but it also would have looked absolutely shameless. She nonetheless made some mention of “triumph over adversity.” The gist of her speech focused on how much she cared for her sisters, a safe bet, especially given what her sisters were going through under her watch. She actually sounded pretty good, despite that shrill voice of hers. There was no hesitation or doubt in her voice, two things which could really hurt the impression she made with the crowd. On the other hand, the judges were guys, and she ran long in Rebecca’s opinion, by at least a few minutes judging from the glazed-over look of the guys, even though there was no official time.

  Stephanie of Tri-Pi went next, and this time a few more people put their drinks down and paid attention, but not for any reason Stephanie would have really wanted. She was the candidate of Tri-Pi (technically Pi Pi Pi, but nobody called it that). Rebecca suspected that if Stephanie didn’t win, which was likely, and this all blew over, they would be very forgiving, given how poisonous the scandal was for their votes. But Stephanie didn’t focus on the Tri-Pi pledge’s open letter. She began with “When I was a child,” which was the worst possible way to open a college essay, in Rebecca’s opinion, much less a sweetheart competition. Maybe that was the opening to her college essay, because the whole thing sounded a bit as if she was applying to a college that only accepted sweethearts. “And that’s why I’m the best candidate” also sealed her fate as the giver of the loser speech.

  Shelly of Beta Theta Tau was up next, and she made up for what she lacked in professionalism with enthusiasm. She was certainly perky, and she was a dancer. Not that she literally danced in front of them—she just told them about it, but in bits spread across a joke-laden speech that sounded suspiciously well-written, as if someone was hired to write it. Well, according to Casey, it wouldn’t be the first time. She was charming, and that was the problem. Most of her jokes landed, but at this point in the evening the alcohol was flowing pretty heavily and the jokes got points for that alone, so she didn’t get full credit for being a comedian in Rebecca’s book. But she had to admit, except for the Gamma Psi pity vote working hard for Natalie with all her professionalism, Rebecca felt that Shelly was a strong candidate.

  After that it was back for more cocktails. Rebecca grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar. She needed it. Her throat was actually a little dry. She saw Casey and Ashleigh and the others heading her way for support.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said when they converged.

  “Not that we expected any different, but go you!” Ashleigh did a little hop. She couldn’t help it. She was excited. Rebecca couldn’t bring herself to blame her.

  And then it was her time. She stood behind the podium as the master of ceremonies called for quiet. It was the last speech of the evening, so anticipation was building and this time nobody found any emergency calls to take or other things to do, which was exactly how she wanted it. “My name is Rebecca Logan of Zeta Beta Zeta,” she said as required, “and I didn’t get here be
cause I wanted to be sweetheart.” Rebecca waited for the gasps to die down before continuing.

  “I didn’t actually run for the position of sweetheart. I was chosen for reasons that shall remain forever a mystery, except within the halls of Omega Chi, and I was supported by my sisters. While at first I was dubious about being judged by people I don’t know all that well, I’ve come to realize that the sweetheart competition isn’t really about that. A woman is chosen every year not because she is particularly sweet, necessarily, but because people care about her enough to support her. My sisters spent a week celebrating me for something I hadn’t worked for and hadn’t yet won. Every good attribute I may or may not possess was defined and highlighted for the entire campus. Like how I may not bake or possess certain charming qualities—while I assure you, there are others some of you are not at liberty to see—but I was prejudged as being worthy of the highest honor Omega Chi could bestow by the people who are most important in my life, my sisters at ZBZ. Knowing that I have their respect and support is more than enough for me. So, vote however you want to vote. In my mind, and my heart, I’ve already won.”

  When she stepped away from the podium, they were clapping. They clapped after each candidate, for courtesy or otherwise, but she could read claps. Years on the political trail with her father taught her that much. She was glad to be ushered into the waiting room with the other sweethearts and away from the very sisters she had just praised, who looked more than a little misty-eyed, and that was something she was not prepared to deal with.

  “Way to take the high road,” Natalie said rather immediately.

  “Maybe you should have thought of it first. Or just thought to go last.” Lasting impressions were everything.

  The amiable Shelly said, “We don’t know anything yet.”

  “We know I didn’t win,” said Stephanie, and they all looked at her. “What? The Tri-Pis, after what Melanie did? There’s no way I’m getting a single vote.”

  “You’re taking it well.”

  “I had a good cry last night. And another this morning. And this afternoon, to make sure I’m all cried out. Which I am, but I have a huge headache and all these red dresses aren’t helping my eyes. How late does the bar stay open after they announce the winner?”

  They weren’t kept long before being ushered back into the main room, where Evan was standing at the podium. He tapped on the wood for a few moments as Calvin came to him with the envelope, and then he opened it. “And the winner is…Rebecca Logan.”

  There were shrieks in the air, not all of them from the pledges.

  “We knew you could do it,” Ashleigh said. “We never doubted you. Not, like, that you need to be told that. But it’s true anyway so we’re saying it. Or I’m saying it. Casey?”

  “I am totally saying it,” Casey said, starting to cry, if just a little. “Whatever you did, you were going to be awesome.”

  Ashleigh and Casey contributed their fair share of tears while holding on to each of Rebecca’s arms as if she couldn’t hold herself up anymore, and maybe a small one came from Rebecca before they put the tiara on her head.

  But she would never admit that, even to herself, on pain of death.

  chapter twelve

  Rusty had an interesting Saturday, to say the least. It was like a scavenger hunt that involved scavenging for people, not things, and a lot of bribes involving alcohol along the way. It also involved far more subterfuge than he was used to, but he would do anything for Cappie, and Cappie knew it. That was why he asked.

  His goal was to find Alexander Izmaylov, philosophy TA, and as Cappie had learned through however he found out these things, a former engineering major at Yale. His first PhD was in computer science at MIT, and he was only working on the philosophy degree. In other words, he was no dummy, and he was undoubtedly a nerd, sans glasses and awful collared shirts. And he knew people, and people knew him—people who were in honors engineering programs. Cappie only had the people listed on his Facebook, and that’s where Rusty started. The quest led him from dorm to dorm, where he handed out fliers for the party and begged for information on where a certain TA might be and who could talk him into going to a party. One guy knew another guy who knew a girl he might have dated, but that turned out to be a dead end, as it turned out he’d blown her off. Rusty made a brief venture into town to talk to a townie who worked at a bowling alley, who led him of all places to a nightclub, where the owner very reluctantly—and with a considerable bribe—gave him a location.

  Which led him, somewhat obviously, to the professor’s house just off campus, something Rusty should have figured out immediately when Alex wasn’t listed in the campus directory. By then it was already dark, and a bleary-eyed man in his mid-twenties answered the door, as if he’d just woken up. “What is it?”

  Rusty handed him a flier. Alex seemed to have trouble focusing. “A party. You’re invited.” This flier happened to contain only the location of the house on campus, not any mention of it being the Kappa Tau house. “More specifically, your presence is requested.”

  Alex squinted and looked up at him. “And you are?”

  “Rusty Cartwright, honors engineering.” He held out his hand, but Alex didn’t shake it or make a move as though he was going to.

  “Oh right, you won that grant. For the regenerating wiring. That has a lot of potential.”

  “Thanks. If I could make it work for more than five minutes, it would have even more.”

  “And you’re inviting me to a party? You know, I’m not an engineer. And I’m on antibiotics. I’m not supposed to be drinking.”

  “Let’s just say some people who have your best interest at heart feel that you should get out and have some fun, and that’s all I’m at liberty to say,” Rusty replied. “People who wish not to be named.”

  “Yeah, the ‘liberty to say’ thing gave that away.” Alex handed the flier back to him. “No. I’m sick.”

  “You’re on antibiotics! And you’re standing, which by CRU standards is already better than some people by the end of the night. Come on, I bet you haven’t done anything all night except watch DVDs of Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

  Alex opened his eyes farther, paying a little more attention now. “Who told you I like TNG?”

  “Dude, computer science degree.”

  Alex chuckled weakly. “Fine. Give me some time to not be in pajamas. And I need that flier back.” He took it and slammed the door behind him, and Rusty took that as the best sign he was going to get.

  There was crying and there was celebrating, and then Casey let Rebecca be alone with Evan, which was where she wanted to be. She looked around and saw the other ZBZs happy and dancing the night away, and suddenly Casey remembered that Cappie had been trying to get her attention. “You got this?” she said to Ashleigh. “I have an appointment to keep.”

  “I thought you wanted him to study.”

  “I’m a sucker for puppy-dog eyes. Even if they’re done through an intermediary like Rebecca.”

  “She did Cappie’s puppy-dog eyes? I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “No, she just mentioned them.”

  “Girl, you are hopeless,” Ashleigh said. “Go. Go to him, as fast as your feet can carry you!”

  Casey rolled her eyes at the dramatic flourish and then called a cab to take her back to campus proper. No way was she walking all the way to Kappa Tau in heels.

  At the KT house, the party was in full swing, which meant a lot of beer in tubes and finer cocktails handed out to ladies based on how much (or how little) they were wearing.

  “Wow.” It was her brother who found her first, mostly by looking up from the couch. “You know you’re overdressed?” He was dressed in his normal weekday clothing. He wasn’t being condescending about it, and she knew that.

  “Yeah, I’m aware. Where’s Cappie?”

  “Studying. I’m told not to interrupt him until he’s done. And not to let you interrupt him.”

  “Me? Wait, what,
Cappie studying during a party? What is going on? And why are you watching Korean feudal dramas?”

  “Because that’s what the TV is stuck to,” Rusty said. “He might be a while, but he was really serious about this.”

  At which point, a man dressed in painted cardboard to look like a robot walked past her, and she said, “I think I’ve truly lost my mind.”

  “Because of the robot? Because the actual ones don’t work.”

  “Because I just got back from a speech where Rebecca praised me for being such a good sister and now I can’t find Cappie because he’s studying.”

  Rusty gave her a smile. “Miracles happen.”

  Seeing he wasn’t kidding about Cappie not coming down to greet her, she sat down on the couch on the spot that looked vaguely clean enough not to immediately ruin her dress. “And why are you grinning like a triumphant idiot?”

  “Because I may have had something to do with all of this. So, Rebecca won?”

  “Yeah, even after she threatened to tell everyone off in the speech. Which she sort of did, in her passive-aggressive way, but in the end it was about sisterhood and how she was taking one for the team. But she had a much better way of putting it.” She watched a woman walk past in a French maid costume, and as that was nothing out of the ordinary for a KT party, she ignored it entirely. “It was oddly…touching.”

  “Your makeup is running. Or was running. Now it’s dried like it was running.”

  “Yeah, there was some crying. But a reasonable amount. It seems to go hand in hand with the sweetheart competition. And this year, I didn’t have to crush my big sister Frannie and go home to the same house as her, knowing she would hate me forever. And that Cappie still loved me even though I was with Evan. This way is much better.”

  “But you didn’t win.”

  “It’s still better. That moment was glorious, but I wouldn’t repeat it. Watching other people succeed—when you want them to succeed—is better somehow.”