Nu Alpha Omega

by H. Claire Taylor

  “Eugene Thornton?” Leslie asked hesitantly.

  The name pulled Jess out of her own head. “Yeah. Wait, you’ve heard of Eugene Thornton?”

  “Yeah. He’s the one that’s been covering all your stories, right?”

  Ah, of course. Another asshole Jessica had helped rise to notoriety. “Making them up, but yes.” Then she went for it, filling in the missing pieces of the phone call for Leslie.

  Her roommate listened silently, and once Jess was done, Leslie sighed. “Wow. That’s crazy. But, you know, maybe Jimmy does actually want to help you. Sometimes people are just really bad at showing that they care and—”

  “I’m gonna save you the trouble,” Jessica said, holding up a hand. “I know you’re trying to help, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. Jimmy is the worst. I’m pretty sure he’s not the Devil, but it’s entirely possible he’s a demon at this point. Either way, nothing Jimmy does or says is for the advancement of anyone but Jimmy. Period.”

  Leslie’s thin lips pressed together in two tight lines and her eyes squinted in a way that made Jessica wonder if she was actually angry. Had she just pissed off her roommate with her honesty?

  Well, good. It was about time Leslie understood even a fraction of one percent of the frustration Jessica dealt with on a daily basis, and if she couldn’t handle honesty, that wasn’t Jessica’s problem to fix.

  She rolled onto her side and pulled out her phone to text Chris, who was the only person in the world she wanted to see right then.

  “Well, I just think maybe you should cut Jimmy some slack,” Leslie spat after a prolonged silence. “Maybe consider that you could be wrong every once in a while.”

  “Huh?” Genuinely confused, having already switched her attention to her phone, Jessica looked back over her shoulder just in time to see Leslie grab the rape whistle off the hook and drape it around her neck, sling her backpack over her shoulder, and march out of the dorm room.

  Maybe she’s never been mad before. She kinda sucks at it.

  But she still couldn’t stop thinking about the question Leslie had asked: “If he knew you wouldn’t do it, why did he ask?”

  She hoped for her sake, Jimmy had been lying about holding off Eugene, but she didn’t hold much hope of that. She’d probably just managed to make her already hard life even harder, but what else was she supposed to do, go back to White Light and let Jimmy humiliate and crush her for a third time?

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice … umm …

  FOOL ME THRICE, THOU ART A GOOD MANIPULATOR.

  Then I guess Jimmy isn’t a good manipulator.

  MY DEAR, SLOW CHILD, HE IS A BETTER MANIPULATOR THAN YOU CAN EVER IMAGINE.

  She groaned. So many people found comfort in God. Must be nice.

  “I’m telling you, Jess,” Chris said before shoving another handful of Froot Loops into his mouth, “we’re unstoppable this season. With Harker throwing and Moon, and Staples at wide receiver, there’s just no stopping us.” He swigged from his glass of blue Powerade and swished the liquid around with the cereal before swallowing. “And then Harker leaves at the end of this season, and he’s okay, but once I start playing next year, man. Moon and Staples are gonna set some damn season records, let me tell you.”

  Jess nodded along, not bored, but not particularly engaged, since this wasn’t the first time Chris had announced Moon and Staples’ presumptive Nobel Sports Prize. “Sounds like a fun season.”

  “I mean, as soon as we break this six-game losing streak, yeah, we’ll be golden.”

  She let her eyes wander over the students wandering in and out of the dining hall. After two months on campus, she was starting to recognize some of the faces, even.

  Following closely behind Dude Who Sits in the Front Row of Cultural Anthropology and Shamelessly Plays on His Phone was a girl whose real name Jessica actually knew.

  “Oh hey, there’s Judith.”

  Chris turned in his seat to gawk. “Where?”

  As Judith scanned the tables, Jess caught her attention with an arm wave.

  “Oh, the thick Latina?” he asked, turning back around in his chair. “Yeah, I think I have a math class with her, actually.”

  When Judith made her way over a few minutes later, full tray in hand, Chris pulled out a chair for her and she sat on the opposite side of the rectangular table from Jessica, next to Chris.

  “’Sup,” Chris offered by way of introduction. “Chris.”

  “Judith.”

  “We have a math class together.”

  Judith grinned. “Oh do we?”

  “Yeah. College algebra.”

  “Oh cool.”

  Chris shoved another handful of Froot Loops into his mouth. “Yep. Super cool.”

  He choked on an inhale and covered his mouth as he attempted to hack up the offending morsel. He sucked down more Powerade, and that seemed to help.

  “Are you okay?” Jessica asked her red-faced boyfriend, but she didn’t bother hiding her laughter.

  He nodded adamantly as his face returned to its usual golden tan.

  Judith was grinning subtly, which indicated that the girl was highly amused. “So how many dicks have y’all seen in your dorm so far?”

  Chris’s chewing slowed. His eyebrows lifted up toward his hairline as he looked to Jessica. “Is that a thing? Are you seeing a bunch of dicks?”

  Jessica laughed. “First of all, I haven’t gone a single year without seeing a bunch of dicks since I started football, so why are you suddenly so worried about it? And second, no. No dicks this semester.”

  “Except mine,” Chris assured Judith. “Obviously.”

  Judith chuffed. “Obviously.”

  “You?” Jessica asked, remembering her manners. “You seen many dicks?”

  Judith sipped her orange juice as she nodded. “Yeah. Our dorm is co-ed and has communal showers. I got stuck on the guy’s floor because they had too many women enroll—as usual—and you’d think after their fiftieth shower these dudes would remember to start bringing a towel with them to the bathroom, but no. It’s like living with a bunch of streakers except the novelty has worn off.”

  Jessica nodded. “I never could decide which was worse: seeing a dick just sitting still or seeing it limply flopping around.”

  Chris jumped in. “Just sitting there is way worse. It just looks sad. And it usually is.”

  Judith laughed outright at that.

  Chris nodded at Jess. “She kinda reminds me of Miranda, you know?”

  “I guess …” She hadn’t really seen it before. Maybe it was because they were physical opposites with Judith being more stout and sturdy with long, dark hair.

  But once Jessica thought about it, she could definitely see the similarities.

  The conversation moved on to topics not involving genitals, and afterward, once they’d cleaned and ditched their trays and parted ways with Judith, Chris slung his arm lazily around Jessica’s shoulders and they headed in the direction of the cultural anthropology class they had together.

  “Judith is pretty cool,” Chris said.

  “Yeah?” Jess asked casually.

  She could feel his arm muscles clench slightly around her shoulder before he said, “Yeah, I mean, she’s definitely not my type or anything, but she’s cool.”

  Jess looked up at him. “Not your type? Who said anything about—”

  “I’m just saying, you’re my type. It’s a very specific type.”

  “Messiah?”

  “Yeah. I mean. No. Like, your body type.”

  God love him (literally), but one of Jessica’s favorite things was to watch Chris dig himself out of a hole no one asked him to dig in the first place. “What’s my body type?”

  He swallowed hard and focused on her torso. “You know. Lean, average height, not too curvy, but a nice ass.”

  “Chris,” she said, trying to keep a poker face, “you just described ninety percent of the student body.
Not just the females, either. The entire student body.”

  When he didn’t have a response, she finally wrapped an arm around his waist and laughed, and she could feel him relax next to her. “Don’t worry. I know you just want me for my smiting.”

  “I mean, as long as it’s not directed at me, yeah, it’s pretty hot.”

  “I really like Judith, too,” she added.

  His voice raised slightly as he asked, “Like a lesbo thing?”

  “Nope. Not now, not ever.”

  “Damn.”

  “Demon slut!” shouted a voice from a small crowd of students that they passed.

  Chris’s head jerked toward the crowd and his middle finger shot up in that direction.

  “Nah, just let it go,” Jess said.

  “Sorry. Reflex.” He pulled her closer to him as they passed by the free-speech area that was surprisingly vacant. “When was the last time you talked with Miranda?”

  Jessica thought about it. Had it really been almost a month? How did time go by so quickly? “I guess a few weeks.”

  “I was chatting with her the other day because some Texas State softball girl had heard about her and—doesn’t matter. Anyway, I had hit her up, and she didn’t respond right away because she was in some interview for an award or a scholarship or something for her major.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah.” Chris let go of Jess’s shoulder to hold open the door of the social sciences building for her.

  The cool AC felt like ice water poured on her face. “She picked a major?”

  Chris threw his arm around her waist. “Yeah. Psychology.”

  Her energy seemed to drain out through her feet and she pulled away from Chris and leaned back against the wall, sandwiching her backpack. “I’m such a bad friend.”

  Chris chuckled and leaned a shoulder against the wall next to her. “What?”

  “Chris, I’m a terrible friend.”

  “What the shit are you talking about, Jess?”

  It was a suspicion that had long been looming in her mind, and for some reason the fact that she didn’t even know her professed best friend’s major seemed fairly damning evidence. “Did you know she was popular in high school?”

  Chris’s brows pinched together, an expression Jess knew meant his brain was recalculating what he thought the conversation was about. “I wouldn’t say she was popular.”

  “She was prom queen!”

  “Okay, so people liked her, sure.”

  “But did you know that before she joined you onstage?”

  “Onstage?”

  “At prom!”

  “Oh.” He turned to lean his full back against the wall. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we always sat with a bunch of people in math who seemed to like her. And they’d make plans for the weekend and stuff.”

  So that was news to her. “Plans?”

  “Yeah, like they’d go out and party and, um …” Jessica almost felt bad asking Chris to strain his memory this hard right before class. “I mean, once I think they went mudding?”

  “Mudding?!” She wasn’t sure why the thought of missing out on a bunch of dumb-asses doing donuts in a used up pasture caused her to feel such betrayal.

  Chris clearly didn’t understand either. “Jess. Mudding is stupid. Why are you so upset?”

  That line. The “why are you so upset” one. Miranda had explicitly taught Chris to ask it when he didn’t understand. Jess had applauded her best friend at the time for giving Chris such a useful emotional tool, but now the words stung like a knife.

  “Because you knew and I didn’t! How was I the only one who didn’t know Miranda was popular?”

  “What, was she supposed to tell you? Was I supposed to tell you?”

  “Yes!”

  Chris’s eyelids drooped and his lips pressed together in disbelief. “Yeah? And what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Jess, did you know your best friend doesn’t have people accusing her of being the Antichrist? Isn’t that awesome for her?’”

  He let that sink in, and Jessica sighed, feeling her words tangle in her chest until she was finally able to find a loose thread. “I’m a terrible friend. Maybe the worst.”

  Chris chuckled. “Whatever. That’s so not true.”

  A small group of students walked by and one coughed out, “Satan whore.”

  Chris shut his eyes to keep his focus and Jess simply let it go. “It is true. Miranda’s literally my only friend—”

  “Uh, what am I?”

  “You’re my boyfriend. Not the same.”

  Chris sighed, pushed off the wall, and held up a hand. “Just stop. Whether you are or aren’t a good friend doesn’t matter. You’re God’s daughter. Your job isn’t to win the World’s Best Friend award. It’s the job of those around you to be good friends to you. Anyone who doesn’t realize that has their head up their ass.”

  There was just no way that was correct. “That doesn’t even make sense. I’m supposed to be perfect, right? Part of being perfect is being a good friend.”

  But she could tell she’d lost Chris halfway through. “Perfect?” he asked incredulously. “Jessica McCloud. You know that’s bullshit. You’re not perfect, and I don’t think you’re supposed to be. And no offense, but I don’t think you’ll ever be.”

  She shrugged because she knew he was right, at least about the reality of her imperfection. But she’d be damned if she admitted it aloud. Self-loathing felt like the apt thing to do at the moment.

  “Besides,” he added. “You think Jesus was a great friend to anyone?”

  “I … I hadn’t thought about that, I guess.”

  “Well I have,” Chris said, surprising her. “He was a lousy friend. You think he remembered Peter’s birthday? You think he made sure to check in with all his disciples and just see how life was treating them? You think he knew all their majors?”

  “I don’t think they had—”

  “No. He didn’t. He was too busy getting shit done to be a ‘good friend’ or whatever.”

  Jess sighed. “And how did that work out for him?”

  Chris’s certainty dropped out from under him. “Well, I mean, for the most part—”

  Jess moved away from the wall. “We’ve been over this. I’m trying to avoid crucifixion.”

  Chris rolled his eyes and followed her as she began down the hallway again. “You know I’d never let that happen to you.”

  “I know,” she said. There was never a question in her mind about Chris’s loyalty.

  But Chris wasn’t the one who made decisions about this sort of thing. Her Father was, and he’d been conspicuously silent for the past week.

  And as nice as it was to be the only one occupying her cranial cavity, she knew that, in theory, it wasn’t good to have an absent father. And when your father also happened to be in charge of all of creation—or at least claimed to be—the absence could become downright ominous.

  “If it really bothers you, you can just call Miranda and talk to her,” Chris said. “Wouldn’t that fix this problem?”

  “Of course not,” she said, pausing outside the classroom. “It’s not that simple.”

  Chris scrunched up his nose. “It’s not?”

  “No. But it’s fine. Thanksgiving’s only a few weeks away. I’ll see her then and figure it out.”

  “Fine. As long as you got a plan, I guess.”

  A plan. Ha! When had a plan ever worked out for Jessica McCloud?

  “I’ll start off,” said Coach Rex from the head of the kitchen table.

  Jessica hoped he kept it quick because she didn’t know how much longer she could resist the smell of turkey, gravy, and green bean casserole.

  “I’m thankful to have so many impressive women in my life.” He grinned at each of them—Destinee, Cheyenne, Miranda, and then Jessica—who’d somehow managed to huddle around the small McCloud table that was jam-packed with dishes.

  Destinee took Rex’s hand and smiled at him.

  IF THAT ISN�
��T PANDERING …

  I have to agree with you, actually.

  “And I’m also thankful for football,” he added. “And the Cowboys’ win over the Giants last week. Man, that was huge.”

  Was that you?

  OBVIOUSLY. WHAT CAN I SAY? I LOVE A GOOD HAIL MARY.

  When it was clear that Rex had nothing else he was thankful for outside of women and football, Destinee took over. “I’m thankful for everyone being able to come together today.”

  The rest of the table nodded, including Jessica, who couldn’t help but wonder who Destinee—or anyone at this table, for that matter—was actually thankful to. Was it God?

  “And I’m thankful for HEB and their ready-made turkeys,” Destinee added. “And ready-made everything, really.”

  “Amen!” seconded Cheyenne Forte.

  ONE OF MY BETTER IDEAS.

  No. You are not taking credit for HEB’s products.

  AND WHY SHOULDN’T I? I DID CREATE HEB.

  Oh yeah? Was that day twenty-nine, or …?

  “I got a lot to be thankful for this year,” Cheyenne said, glancing down at her daughter. “I’m thankful for a daughter who can earn her way through college and stay in college. I’m thankful for her softball coaches who support her and Professor McArthur who nominated her for the psychology award.” She leaned forward to get a straight line of sight on Jessica. “And for friends who help keep my daughter on track.”

  Jessica felt her cheeks heat and she couldn’t meet Cheyenne’s eyes. She didn’t deserve any of the credit for Miranda’s many successes. Many, many successes. So many successes.

  “You know,” Cheyenne went on, now mostly addressing Destinee, “when I got knocked up, I never thought things would get easier from there. But they have. Getting knocked up turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  As Destinee nodded emphatically through watery eyes, Jess glanced at her best friend. Miranda wore an expression of horror that matched what Jessica was feeling.

  “Oh!” Cheyenne exclaimed. “I almost forgot to say I’m thankful for Miranda’s grades—”

  “Okay, Mom. I think we’re good on all that,” Miranda said awkwardly. “Um, my turn.” She fidgeted with the napkin in her lap and Jessica’s eyes crossed a little bit when she got a whiff of the sweet potatoes that were growing colder by the second. What a tragedy.