In public, the two sister sororities embraced each other, celebrating their common ancestry. Both sororities’ headquarters encouraged cooperation and joint ventures.
In private, Delta Beta and Mu Mu Mu were not so cooperative. Or encouraging. Or civil. But like any family we kept our feuds private, behind closed doors and fueled with an impressive amount of alcohol.
Casey texted me that he couldn’t handle being around a ‘herd’ of Tri Mus. Not for the first time, I envied Casey’s non-Panhellenic status. He got all of the good parts of being in a sorority and none of the pain in the ass parts.
The Debs had picked their best bowlers to represent the chapter and studious Jane was the captain. She was as ferocious about knocking down pins as she was about enforcing study hours. The Delta Beta sisters tried their hardest to cheer and stay excited about the tournament, but it was bowling, after all. I never could understand why Tri Mu had picked the least interesting sport as a way to raise money. But I didn’t understand anything about the Moos.
I started to drift away after the fourth time the little box came down and rearranged the pins. I was out of practice faking enthusiasm for stuff. Deciding that a Chapter Advisor should totally walk around and make sure everything was in order, I started at the end of the alley where the snack bar was. If I got a giant tub of buttered popcorn that would probably be okay, too.
I was standing in line at the snack bar when I saw two familiar heads in the shoe-changing area. It was semi-blocked off by open cubbies where bowlers could store their shoes while they wore strangers’ old shoes. There was nothing about that custom that I understood. One, I’d never leave my shoes where just anyone could take them. Two, strangers’ shoes? Ew.
I paid for my popcorn and extra butter and slipped in behind the cubbies, only thinking about the fact that if the Panhellenic Advisor was talking to my Chapter President, it was probably something I needed to be informed about.
I couldn’t tell you why I didn’t make my presence known immediately. I wasn’t the type to slink behind stinky shoe cubbies, but something about the tone of the words made me draw up short. And they were talking so softly that I had to be real still to hear.
‘What do you want from me?’ the blond head said.
‘This is none of your business. It’s been handled.’ That was Amanda’s voice. I recognised it easily, even though it had been years since we lived together in the sorority house.
‘Handled? That’s what you call it?’ The other voice hissed.
‘Do you think I need your help? Do you know who I am?’ Amanda sounded like the quintessential Panhellenic queen bee.
‘Do you know who I am? Who I know? One call to nationals and this whole thing is done.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ Amanda sounded as shocked as I was.
‘It’s not a threat. I already called. I’m not letting this travesty go on.’
‘That’s not very Panhellenic of you.’ Amanda paused, her voice softening. ‘I think you need to trust the process.’
‘I want it done. Or I’m handling it my way.’ There was a rustling sound and then a perfect blond head swept out of the changing area, not looking back at me or at Amanda. I would recognise those perfect blond waves anywhere. They were Aubrey St. John’s waves. In a pale pink and bright orange Tri Mu shirt.
I counted to five and then circled into the changing area from the opposite way. Amanda sat on a bench, her head resting on a locker behind her, her eyes closed.
‘Hey Amanda Jennifer Cohen,’ I trilled, sounding as casual as possible. Amanda’s eyes snapped open. ‘Didn’t know you were going to be here!’
‘Margot Melissa Blythe.’ She smiled, using my whole name in response. Best friends had silly little traditions like that. ‘Panhellenic Advisors get to go to all the philanthropy events.’
‘Fun! So do Chapter Advisors,’ I said as I sat down next to her. ‘Somehow, it’s not as much fun as it used to be.’
‘No,’ Amanda said flatly, lost in thought. ‘It’s not.’
‘You look like there’s something bothering you.’ I wanted to encourage her to confide in me without confessing that I was an eavesdropper. Not that I thought she would mind about the eavesdropping. But there could be some Panhellenic confidentiality rules that I’d violated.
She shook her head. ‘Sometimes, I try so hard, you know? I try to help people, but some people don’t want to help themselves.’
I nodded, thinking of Stefanie Grossman. If she’d just shown up to the hearing, maybe we could have worked with her, given her some other kind of disciplinary consequences to her public display of affection. But she hadn’t and we couldn’t do anything else but apply the letter of the law. ‘Sometimes we just have to do what we have to do,’ I sighed.
‘Being a grown up sucks.’ I offered Amanda my popcorn and she took a handful, still lost in thought.
Loud cheering erupted from the bowling alley. It sounded like someone had taken the lead or striked out or something. My presence would likely be required. I gave the rest of my popcorn to Amanda, who took it with a grateful smile. ‘Do you want to do lunch tomorrow?’ She looked so depressed and I wanted to cheer her up. ‘We can do it off campus, so we’re not seen together.’
‘I’d like that,’ Amanda said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I couldn’t believe it was Monday again. A week ago, I’d just arrived in Sutton, brimming with excitement about being back at my alma mater and all the new possibilities of helping another chapter on the road to sorority excellence. Little did I know that the new possibilities would include a murder investigation and a new position as Chapter Advisor. Both were turning out to be big bummers.
Mondays were filled with preparations for the chapter meeting. I tracked down the officers to compile their reports, typed up the agenda and made sure that dinner would be served at 5:30 p.m. on the dot, allowing everyone enough time to eat and change into proper pin attire worthy of the formality of the chapter meeting.
I was meeting with Cheyenne in the dining room when a brunette with corkscrew curls yelled and ran into the room. Another brunette, this one with poker-straight hair, ran in on Curly’s heels. They were both screaming something incomprehensible. Finally, I understood. Sort of.
‘Goats?’ I asked in my grown up, completely authoritative squeal. ‘What do you mean, goats?’
Curly breathed hard. ‘Goats. In the bathroom.’
‘Which bathroom?’ I asked both of them
‘The half bath on the first floor.’ That was Curly. Her name might have been Stacy. Or Tracy. Lacey?
‘Yes, GOATS!!!’ That was the straight haired sister. I was pretty sure her name was Emma. Or Jenna. Jemma?
The ladies in the dining room got up as one and followed me down the hall to the half-bath. Sure enough, there was a certain odor emanating from the bathroom. And a shuffling, munching sound. I tiptoed to the door and cracked it. What the …?
‘GOATS!’ I yelled before I slammed the door again. A bleating came from inside. Or was it a baa?
‘What do you mean?’ Asha Patel was confused.
‘It’s an acronym,’ Jane told her.
‘Not an acronym,’ I said.
‘Or a disease,’ Jane said.
‘Definitely not a disease,’ I disagreed. ‘Goats.’ I opened the door again. ‘See?’
Jane, Asha and eight other women peered into the half bath. One goat was on the floor, eating something. One goat stood on the back of the toilet tank. Another rested on top of the vanity, its little goat belly inside the sink. I wondered if that was a comfortable position for a goat.
‘What’s that one doing on the counter top?’ one of the girls asked reasonably.
‘It’s probably pregnant,’ Asha said. ‘About to give birth in a manger like Mary.’
Oh hell no. There were going to be no baby goat deliveries on my watch, virgin or otherwise.
‘Does anyone know who’s in charge of removing goats from the half bath?�
�� Jane asked the group. Again, it was a reasonable question.
Ten sets of eyes looked at me. ‘Me?’ I asked dumbly. ‘But don’t you need like, a goat licence? Or a vet to properly dispose of a goat?’
A tall basketball player with straight blond hair burst into tears. ‘Don’t kill them!’
So that would be wrong? ‘I’m not going to kill them,’ I said, reluctantly tossing aside my brief visions of goat-icide.
‘Does anyone know whose goats these are?’ I yelled in my mean Chapter Advisor voice. ‘There are three goats in a Delta Beta bathroom. Somebody has to know where they came from.’
All I got was a bunch of blank looks in response. Great. A goat mystery. That was all I needed. There was a goat sound from inside the bathroom, then two. Then the sound of splashing and a toilet flushing. ‘That’s it,’ I muttered. I pulled out my phone and called ‘911.’
‘What’s your emergency?’ the operator asked, in a not very urgent voice.
‘I have goats in my bathroom.’
‘Okay, is this something that you’ve had before or did it just start today?’
‘Today,’ I snarled, not appreciating the implication that I always had goats in my bathroom. Who did he think I was?
‘Are you having trouble breathing, pain in your chest, dizziness, or …’
I interrupted him. ‘Yes, no and …’ I grabbed at the wall with my free hand. ‘Maybe. I’ve never dealt with this before.’
‘Do you have someone there who can drive you to the hospital?’
‘I have three goats in my bathroom, I can’t go anywhere! They’re going to flood the place!’
‘Okay, I’m sending someone out immediately,’ the operator said.
I looked up at the girls around me. ‘Someone go out and wait for the goat exterminator.’ The tall blonde wailed. ‘I mean, the nice firemen. Asha.’ I got the social director’s attention, her big brown eyes wide with excitement. ‘You know the frats pretty well, right?’
‘Well …’ She blushed and looked down, clearly misinterpreting my question. Seriously?
I waved my hand in front of her face to get her to focus on me again and not her love life. ‘Get on the phone and find out which stupid fraternity wants their goats back.’
In unison, the remainder of the girls went ‘ah’ and nodded in understanding. As furious as I was about three goats taking up residence in the first floor guest bathroom, I had to give props to whichever fraternity pledges thought this up. This kind of prank took both unprecedented skill and sneakiness, two traits highly valued by the fraternity men of Sutton College.
The first responders showed up, firemen who acted like they had never removed goats from a building before, which I found a little ridiculous. These were somewhat common farm animals, if Lucy, the bubbly sister from Kentucky, were to be believed. What were these firemen doing with their time? They hemmed and hawed and got rope out and finally came up with the brilliant plan to lead the goats outside with rope around their necks. Firemen are truly our nation’s heroes.
Then they left the goats out in the front yard, each tied to its own tree and left, their fire truck clanging down sorority row as it went, causing Tri Mus and Betas and Epsilon Eta Chis to all come out of their houses to look at the goats in the Deb yard. Because that was just what we needed this week. Farm animals certainly didn’t help a chapter’s reputation on top of murder and phone sex.
I called animal control about pests in the front yard. They said they didn’t deal with goats.
‘I didn’t say they were goats,’ I snapped back.
‘Yeah, we heard about it over the scanner. Good luck with your goats.’
‘Asha!’ I yelled.
She appeared by my side in a jiffy. ‘I have it narrowed down. It definitely wasn’t the Trikes.’
I rolled my eyes. Trikes weren’t known for animal pranks. Their pranks usually involved protractors and the scientific method. Annoying, but easy to clean up.
And so, I found myself babysitting three goats until we caught the culprits and brought them to justice … or at least gave them their goats back. And this was why I was sitting in the front yard of the Deb house, hand-feeding a potentially pregnant goat Honey Nut Cheerios when Lieutenant Ty Hatfield strolled into the Delta Beta yard.
‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘Police scanner?’
He settled into the tree swing, his long legs stretching out. ‘Nah. Heard it from the postal workers downtown.’
I didn’t want to know how far this had gotten. I patted the nanny goat’s head and pretended that I was on a farm, far, far away.
‘You’ve got a way with farm animals,’ he said. I shrugged. ‘But you’ve got a way with most things.’
I scratched between the goat’s ears. She seemed to like it. Turned out, a goat was kind of like a larger, uglier, smellier dog.
‘So what’s your plan? Are you going to slap some sorority letters on these and teach them about proper etiquette and what not to wear?’
Just when he was acting nice to me, he started in on my sorority. That’s how I knew that Ty Hatfield and I would never work – in a romantic sense. He didn’t appreciate my sorority. And any man who couldn’t do that was out the totally theoretical door.
‘We’re arranging for their owners to pick them up.’ I informed him, like that had been my calm, well thought out plan all along.
‘Not going to happen,’ Ty said. ‘The frat pledges don’t own up to their pranks. They like to be anonymous. Like really anonymous.’
I knew that. Sutton College prank week never made the most sense. Like the time the Omegas paid a marching band from a local high school to march up and down sorority row between the hours of two and four in the morning. Or the time the Alpha Kappas had two hundred pineapple pizzas delivered to the Deb house. Who even eats pineapple pizza? The pranks were annoying and juvenile and probably, in the end, harmless. That’s why they liked them, I guessed. They could still be kids, do kid stuff, without any of the grown up consequences.
‘We’ll find out who it was,’ I said calmly, stroking the goat’s head.
‘And then what?’
I turned my big, innocent brown eyes on him. ‘We’ll take revenge.’
Ty pretended to shudder, which really wasn’t appropriate for an officer of the law. He really should have taken a threat of revenge more seriously. But I guess I wasn’t very scary and neither was my sorority. For as long as prank week had been going on, fraternities had pranked and sororities had sat back and been pranked. It was a tradition. And there was no room in that tradition for a sorority to join in and exact vengeance. Especially a sorority as demure and polite and formerly scandal free as Delta Beta.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
After the goat debacle, the bright spot in my day was meeting Amanda for lunch. She texted me the name and location of the restaurant, a little tea room on the town square not known for attracting the collegiate crowd. It was feminine and quaint, perfect for private conversation between two sorority sisters who needed to catch up.
After we ordered our sweet iced teas and chicken salads, I decided to tackle the issue straight on, as honesty was the best Deb policy.
‘I saw you talking with Ainsley St. John yesterday.’
Amanda’s spoon stopped stirring her tea. ‘Oh,’ was all she said.
‘C’mon, Amanda. If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to? I’m your little sis. And I’m Chapter Advisor, now. I get the drama, believe me. With Liza’s death, this week has been … a little much.’ That was an understatement, but I didn’t want to burden Amanda with all the unseemly details.
‘I can’t even imagine,’ Amanda said, compassion and empathy all over her pale face. She reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘You’re right. We should be able to talk about our problems. We’re probably the only ones who understand each other.’
‘It’s so crazy. We have Liza’s memorial service tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Amanda asked.
‘Well, we couldn’t have it today. Chapter meeting is today.’ Amanda nodded in understanding.
‘When’s the funeral?’ She asked, straightening the napkin in her lap.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ I took a sip of iced tea. ‘I don’t think they’ve released the body yet because of the investigation. And the toxicology.’
Amanda’s eyes got real big. ‘Toxicology?’
I nodded, ‘To determine the cause of death.’
‘What was it?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, lowering my voice while the waitress put down our plates. ‘Lieutenant Hatfield is being strangely tongue-tied about it.’
‘You two are talking about it?’
My eyes rolled around. ‘Sort of. He keeps saying he wants to share information, but I think he only wants me to give him information. He’s not forthcoming at all, especially about–’ I cut myself off. ‘Stuff.’ I finished lamely.
‘Come on, Margot,’ Amanda’s voice was chiding. ‘You have to tell me, especially if it’s Deb related. I’m a Delta Beta first and foremost.’
That was so true. ‘Okay,’ I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to break the scandalous news to Amanda. She wasn’t going to handle it well. ‘Turns out, Liza McCarthy had a secret phone sex organization on the side.’
Amanda’s fork clattered to her plate, but something in her eyes wasn’t as alarmed as I thought she should be.
‘Have you heard about this?’ I asked evenly.
A guilty look crossed her face. ‘Rumours, only. I just thought they were vicious rumours spread by–’
‘Try Moo,’ I finished for her. It was that obvious. Especially with the rumours that Casey had heard, that Tri Mu headquarters had heard something, which is what I was telling Amanda when her phone buzzed. She looked at the number. ‘I have to take this,’ she said.
‘Is it Dean Xavier?’ My voice went a little sing-songy. I thought it was cute how flustered she looked at his name.
‘H-how did you know?’
‘When I took Liza’s sociology papers back to the department, I met him then. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about you.’ I winked. ‘Much.’
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