Handpicked

by Dani Oden

  "Morning," he greeted me, a smile visible behind his thick beard.

  "Good morning," I answered before ordering a strawberry oat bar and a small coffee to go. They rang me up and handed me my plain paper cup and brown pastry sleeve. I walked slowly around the seating area, stalling and taking in the local art and community fliers papering every inch of wall. I saw amateur black and white photos of local tourist attractions, watercolor images that were a cross between stick figures and abstraction, and brightly colored woven fabric laced through cracking frames.

  I had stumbled on another world. It was like the time I was trying out for cheer during my freshman year, and I accidentally opened the door to the auditorium instead of the gym. There, I found a room full of eager theater kids instead of my fellow aspiring cheerleaders. I had been embarrassed, but they couldn’t have cared less about my blunder. They had wanted me to stay actually, forcing me to make a split second decision. If I had stayed and taken a background role in "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown," it could have changed the entire trajectory of my high school path. Instead, I earned myself a spot on C-Team cheer, which I held for three and a half weeks before Lindy and I both dropped and joined the Cross Country team, since the girls ran practices with the boys.

  "Stay dry," the girl barista said as I opened the glass door, stirring the dangling bell on the handle.

  "Thanks," I said over my shoulder. Had they noticed the Greek letters splashed all over Tad's sweatshirt? Did they even know what the symbols stood for? Did they care? Were they judging me?

  As I walked slowly back, eating my oat bar and sipping my organic, fair-trade coffee, I felt a sense of dread mixed with a bit of wonder. Everyone said college would be different and great, and so much better than high school, and I guess they were kind of right. No one said it would be overwhelming and scary and full of situations that would challenge and frighten me. Or, maybe they had, and I was too busy trying to memorize the Greek Alphabet to listen to them.

  It was nearly seven in the morning, almost a full twenty-four hours since it had all hit the fan with the reporter. The bakery was a good fifteen blocks from Iota Beta so by the time I got back, my coffee was barely lukewarm and the rain was heavy again. Tad's sweatshirt was completely soaked, and raindrops were leaking down on to my cheek.

  The reporters were gone and the sidewalk was reminiscent of a music venue the day after a concert. Wrappers of all shapes and sizes were sprinkled on the wet cement, extra muddy footprints criss-crossed the walkway, and holes were left on the lawn where camera equipment had dug into the grass. I stepped around what I could, and headed up the front steps and into the house.

  I heard a few low voices talking in the dining room. I thought about tiptoeing upstairs to my room, but I was tired and cold, and the thought of a second cup of coffee sounded really good. And besides, if the sorority was going to get shut down anyway, what did it matter if someone else knew I'd been out during the lock down?

  It was Jenna and Kayla. They were in the same clothes as the day before, though their faces had fallen further since I'd last seen them. Both had dark circles swallowing their eyes.

  I tossed my wrapper and paper cup, filled a fresh mug of coffee and slid into the seat next to Jenna.

  "Did you just come in the front door?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Where were you?"

  "On a walk," I said.

  "We're on lockdown, remember?" Kayla said.

  I sipped my coffee. "Still?"

  “Did you sleep here?” Jenna asked.

  I met her gaze, but didn’t say anything.

  She sighed, "It’s not like it matters anyway.”

  "Are we going to get news today?" I asked.

  "Before noon,” Kayla answered.

  Jenna lifted her mug with shaking hands. "At least we won't be sitting here all day."

  Kayla shrugged. "That's one way to look at it."

  "And they’re going to tell us what’s going to happen to our house?”

  They paused, again considering how much they wanted to tell me. Kayla spoke first, "No, we already know we're in trouble."

  "We're just waiting to hear how much," Jenna added.

  "Did you guys sleep at all?" I said, already sure of the answer.

  They both shook their heads, while Jenna noted, "We were trying to plan for all the scenarios they could throw at us."

  "Who's ‘they’?" I said.

  "Everyone," Kayla muttered. "Chapter advisors, Nationals, Panhellenic University administrators..."

  "Are they all meeting together?" I asked.

  "They're all talking separately," Jenna said.

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to follow her, "So, who decides what we're going to do?"

  Kayla swirled her coffee around in her mug. "Any of them. All of them."

  "Any of them?"

  "Any one of them can give us sanctions we'll have to carry out. They can put us on probation, they recommend we close, or they can simply decide to stop recognizing us because we broke whatever rules they say we broke. Then it's over."

  "What does that mean?" I said.

  "If the university doesn't recognize us, we don't officially exist on campus."

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that," she said grimly.

  “But what rules did we break?” I said pointedly. “We didn’t do this, someone did this to us.”

  “They don’t care,” Kayla said.

  "So, is there any hope?" I said.

  Jenna opened her mouth to speak, then closed it twice before finally saying, "If they all give us soft punishments, there's a chance we can stay. But the chances are slim--"

  "We don't think that's going to happen," Kayla finished for her. "We were up all night trying to see it from all different angles, and we think they’re all going to stop recognizing us as quickly as possible so it doesn't grow into anything bigger."

  "So the next headline isn't 'Iota Beta International Sorority Continues Practicing Witchcraft,’” Jenna said.

  "Or 'Local University Slaps Mutilators on the Wrist, Keeps Them on Campus,'" Kayla added.

  "You have been talking about this all night," I noted, taking a sip of coffee. “What about, ‘Local Sorority Harassed and Threatened with Toys and Someone Else’s Blood’?”

  “Headlines don’t work that way,” Kayla told me.

  “The University and Nationals already don’t want anything to do with us. We’re bad for parents and donors,” Jenna said.

  "Where is everybody else?" I asked. “Do they know what’s at stake?”

  "Upstairs, I think," Jenna said. "Probably in bed still. I think they do. A couple of girls have come down for coffee, but since no one's going anywhere, no one's in a hurry this morning."

  Kayla sat up straighter and squinted at me. "So where were you before your walk?"

  "Nu Mu Chi," I said truthfully.

  She sighed. "Good for you. At least someone had a good night."

  If only she knew.

  With only a few hours left in Iota Beta, I considered asking the question I'd been holding in since our first night. At this point I had nothing to lose.

  As the two of them debated whether or not the university would let us all move into the residence halls after disbanding, I finished my coffee and waited for a break in their conversation. When one finally appeared, I interjected, "Why did you guys lie to us about Cammie?"

  Kayla sat back in surprise. "No one lied," she said.

  I thought of the limo, and the blood on her arm. I thought of Kayla herself, pretending to do homework to cover for whatever was happening in the Chapter Room. I thought of Jenna never showing up to help at our Pledge Meetings, and of watching Cammie getting carried away, unconscious.

  "There were lies," I said, and listed them for her. “And blood, on your hands, literally.”

  Kayla shifted in her seat. "No one was supposed to lie," she corrected herself. "They were supposed to protect you guys."

 
"From what?"

  "Cammie got alcohol poisoning," Jenna said flatly.

  "She did?"

  Kayla started to talk over her, but Jenna shook her head. "When is there going to be another chance to tell her? After Cammie was carried out, we called an ambulance and she spent the night in the hospital. She was treated and she was fine, but she was pretty shaken up--"

  "So were we," Kayla interjected. “It was intense. She was banged up from her fall, and her bloody nose made a mess all over the back room at the winery. And on me,” she said pointedly.

  Jenna explained, "We took turns visiting her, for days. I was there every night, I think I missed every pledge meeting. But she didn't want anything to do with IB after that, and neither did her parents. So we packed up her room for her and they picked up her things late one night. She's been staying at home since she left the hospital. She's still taking classes, and the last time I talked to her she said she was hoping to get a dorm room for the following semester.

  "It always sucks when a pledge leaves, but we were super sad about this especially since she had such a terrible experience. We didn't want any of you to find out because we didn't want to scare anyone, or make you doubt the house."

  I was dubious. "Were those the only reasons?"

  "Yes," Kayla said, before backtracking. "Well, yes and no. They were the main reasons. But, we were trying to make sure University administrators didn't catch wind of it either."

  "Did you think we wouldn't notice? She'd been with us for a whole day."

  "Honestly? Yes," Kayla said. "Almost forty of you joined that day. How were you going to remember everyone?"

  "We saw it happen. She's someone's roommate."

  Kayla shook her head and tilted it down toward the table. "We thought we were doing what was best for the chapter."

  "Is she okay now?"

  "Yeah," Kayla nodded.

  "Was she mad? How mad were her parents?" I ventured.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Like, mad enough for revenge...?" I trailed off. They were both so sleepy they didn't catch on. I lifted my right arm up and clamped my left hand around my wrist.

  "Oh," Jenna said. "No."

  "They were upset, but they weren't that upset," Kayla shook her head. "It wasn't her or her parents."

  "We might never know who it was," Jenna said sadly. "We've got what, a few hours left?”

  I was just about to ask more questions, when Jenna sat up straighter and cocked her head. "Someone's having trouble with the door code," she said.

  "Isn't everyone here?" I asked.

  "You weren't," Kayla pointed out. "Lockdowns aren't exactly easy to enforce."

  It was supposed to be a simple five digit code, but whoever was trying to get in was typing a long string of buttons. The three of us glanced at each other, all recognizing at the same time that something wasn't quite right.

  Wordlessly, we all got up and crept into the foyer just as the door opened.

  Bea, the school reporter, was more surprised to see us than we were to see her. She swiftly stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her hair was wet from the rain.

  "Why are you bitches still here?" she asked.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Bea's eyes bounced wildly between the three of us. "I thought you'd all be gone, it's quiet outside your house," she said, her voice thick.

  "What are you doing here?" I blurted out.

  Bea rolled her eyes so hard her chest heaved. "Please. I was born to be here." She strolled deeper into the house, wobbly on her feet. There was a bag slung over her shoulder and she held a traveler coffee mug in her left hand. She traced her other hand along the wall, the framed pictures decorating the foyer, and the empty space where the broken composite had been. As she passed me, the stench of liquor was overwhelming. She turned the corner into the living room and poured herself into a patterned armchair. "Guess I'm a bit early."

  As she set her bag down at her feet, Jenna, Kayla and I shifted uneasily. The three of us stood at the edge of the carpet, not daring to get any closer to her.

  "Early for what?" Jenna asked.

  Bea ignored her question. "Tell me what you guys are doing here."

  "We live here," Kayla said.

  Bea emitted a loose, loud laugh. "Enjoy it while you can." She rubbed her hands on the armrest, apparently just now noticing where she was. "This is nice. Is this corduroy?"

  None of us knew what to say.

  "Is this corduroy?" Bea repeated, raising her voice and sitting up. Her eyes met mine, and I wondered if she recognized I was the same girl who'd sat next to her in English on the first day of class. "I asked you a question!"

  "I think it is," Jenna stammered. "I think it’s corduroy."

  "Yes, it is," Kayla agreed.

  I nodded, unable to say anything beyond, "Corduroy."

  Bea slumped back against the seat and sighed. "None of you wanted to answer me. I could tell."

  "Of course we did," Jenna said.

  "We didn't know," Kayla said. "We didn't put it there."

  "Who did, do you know?" Bea said, still rubbing her hands along the upholstery.

  "Our alums pick out the furniture," Jenna explained.

  "Alums?" Bea scoffed. "What alums?"

  "I don't know," Jenna said.

  "It's been here since I moved in," Kayla added.

  "Me too," I said.

  “Maybe it was Lorilie Elsabeth Hopkins, or Jean Kathryn George?" she said casually, rattling off names from our handbooks. “Mary Lee Thompson? Or Charlotte Johnson Williams?”

  She waited for our reactions.

  “You recognize those names, don’t you?” she challenged us impatiently.

  “Yes,” we all answered. “Our founders,” Kayla added.

  “Good girls,” Bea said, waving a sloppy hand. “But of course the founders of Iota Beta didn’t pick out the furniture in this chapter house, we all know that. You know who did, though? My grandma." She reached down in front of her and pulled a bottle of liquor out of her bag with one hand, still holding her coffee mug in the other.

  She stood up. She swayed around the edge of the living room, studying the lamps and rugs and pillows. She turned her back to us as she went deeper into the room, calling over her shoulder, "It's too bad it'll be gone soon."

  Kayla laced her arm through mine, prompting me to do the same with Jenna. The three of us huddled together at the edge of the living room, our feet cemented to the ground, our eyes glued to Bea. I didn’t want to know what else was in her bag.

  “She’s crazy,” Jenna breathed softly and I nodded.

  Bea was still circling through the living room, drunkenly humming the same song I heard when our composite got ruined. She stopped at the couch, tipped her head, and leaned in so close to the armrests she had to steady herself. The whole time, she kept taking leisurely sips from her mug.

  “Should we scream?” I whispered.

  Jenna shook her head. “I think she’d attack us.”

  "Are you talking about me?" Bea shouted from across the room.

  "No," Kayla called back.

  "What were you talking about?" she said, moving back toward us.

  I tried to think of something believable, but with her beady eyes staring into me, I couldn't get my mind to work. "I--I...we...were just...saying..."

  "Were you talking about sorority secrets?" she swayed, her face softening.

  "Yes?" Kayla answered.

  She stopped, as if the thought of continuing toward us was too much for her to bear, and sighed hopelessly. "Why do you have to have so many secrets?”

  None of us had an answer for her.

  "Why can't you just tell me what they are?" she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I could have pretended. If you would have just told me, none of this would have happened."

  "None of what would have happened?" Kayla ventured.

  "This," she said, shaking her head and waving her arm around. "All of this. I went through a lot of trouble.
”

  "But aren't you just the girl who found the hand?" Jenna said, clearly confused.

  Bea dropped her mug, spraying brown liquid all over the floor. "Just the girl who found the hand?”

  Jenna's eyes widened as she realized she said the wrong thing.

  “Did you really just ask if I was just the girl who found the hand?”

  “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” Jenna trembled.

  “Just wait,” Bea predicted.

  Behind me, I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs, but I didn't dare turn away from the fragile monster in front of us.

  Bea hiccuped loudly and said sharply. "You know, my mom used to sing Iota Beta songs to put me to sleep. I know all of them. Probably ones you haven’t even learned yet, Jill. And my Grandma left me her Iota Beta pin in her will. She said I couldn't wear it until I was official. So it sat on my dresser for years. Years. Until last year."

  The footsteps on the stairs had stopped, which had me hoping whoever it was could hear what was happening.

  "I tried so hard," Bea continued, moving back toward the couch. "I got dressed up. I straightened my hair. I put in my contacts. I did my make-up. I did everything. My mom told me what to say, what to do. I sat right there," she pointed to a cushion sitting on the couch. "Right there, and I talked to so many of you and I smiled and said nice things, and I thought about my grandma's pin sitting at home on my dresser and..." she trailed off, unscrewing the lid of her liquor bottle.

  "You rushed?" Kayla breathed.

  Bea nodded.

  "Last year? And we didn't offer you a bid?" Kayla went on, putting the pieces together.

  Bea nodded again.

  Jenna cleared her throat and began, "It's too bad that happened--"

  "It's too bad?"

  "Yes, it’s unfortu-"

  "That's all you have to say?" Bea said.

  "What else is there?" Kayla said.

  "There's a lot. Did you know I joined the newspaper instead? At least they were happy to have me," Bea said indignantly, gesturing so hard with the liquor bottle some of it sloshed onto the couch.

  "Well, that's good," I said hopefully.

  "It's better than good," she said. "Did you guys know the newspaper staff has been trying to write a tell-all on the Greek System for years?"