by Rachel Shane
So I skipped my nine A.M. class on Monday and made an emergency appointment with Ms. L. I sat on her couch, squishing the squeeze ball in my hand rather than the safe, soft tissue. “I’m finding it harder to stay in control of my anger,” I admitted. When it had just been my mother wreaking havoc on my blood pressure, I could maintain balance. But now I was mad at Harrison and also mad at myself for liking Harrison. My body couldn’t handle it.
“Have you been using the breathing techniques?” Ms. L asked, pushing her dark curls out of her face.
“I need something stronger.” I explained to her about the recent events, glossing over the ocean tryst and Harrison in general but focusing on the phone call with my mother and the dread of being completely on my own without the funds to actually support myself.
Ms. L frowned, which made me cringe. She usually never showed emotion, so this must be bad. “Have you told your mother any of these feelings?”
The sand in the squeeze ball depressed under my white knuckles. “She won’t listen. She prefers to win the crown on Worst Mother Ever than actually care about anything I say.”
Ms. L tapped her pen against her clipboard. “It’s not about her listening. It’s about you getting your feelings off your chest.”
I bristled. “Isn’t that what I’m doing here?”
She gave me a tight smile. “I know you’re not telling me everything. I can see you holding back, and I think that’s causing your anger to boil over. I suggest you write a letter to her.”
I started to protest but she held up a hand.
“You don’t have to send it, though I think it would be good if you did. I want you to put everything down in that letter you’ve ever felt about her. Get it out on paper so you’re not bottling it inside. Then decide whether you want to destroy it or send it. That’s your homework before our next session.”
But what I really wanted was to forget she ever existed. Just like I wanted to forget Harrison existed. So instead of agreeing to Ms. L’s homework, I made another vow to myself: Bianca Cruz would no longer lose her shit around Harrison Wagner.
I SWIRLED MY SUGAR-FREE vanilla latte on the table and brought it to my lips, if only to give me a method of stalling. Matt sat hunched over our little two seater table, gazing at me with an expression that was a cross between enamored and terrified.
I gritted my teeth and grasped for something to say. Anything, damn it. Meeting Matt had been a mistake. It was like trying to fix a totaled car using Elmer’s glue to adhere the front bumper back on. Nothing was strong enough to save the wreckage. I’d agreed to meet him at Starbucks to in the dumb hope that seeing Matt would wash away the stink of seeing Harrison.
“Were you in Florida with Harrison?” Matt asked after millions of minutes of silence.
“No!” I shouted too fast, too loud. Heads whipped in our direction. Harrison’s name was on every person’s tongue today but Matt was the only person so far to tie him to me. My roommates knew, of course, but they cared more about our illicit hook up than the loss of the football team.
“But he said—”
I shook my head. “He’s a dirty liar. Which is why we need to trap him. Did you find anything else?” I asked.
“Nothing. I searched everywhere but it’s really hard to find something when I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Harrison managed, I thought bitterly.
“But also…” Matt glanced down at the table and my stomach flipped. I barely knew him but I’d already picked up on a few of his tells. And this one meant he was working up the courage to say something important. “I think it’s wrong of me to be doing this. Unless…you were my girlfriend?”
I dropped my coffee. It splattered all over the table, soaking my lap, scalding hot against my legs. My scream left my throat but it seemed almost disembodied, as if it had come from someone else. Planted into my mouth like a ventriloquist pulling my strings.
Matt rushed to grab a stack of napkins so thick, I wondered if he’d hulked out and used adrenaline strength to rip open the container. He frantically wiped some on the table and dropped a few in my lap for me to wipe. But I was numb, my brain working overtime to calculate the exact pros and cons of Matt’s offer.
PRO: Matt will continue to search for dirt. CON: Harrison is onto him and will hide said dirt.
PRO: Dating Matt might make Harrison jealous or at least piss him off. CON: I do not like Harrison. I do not like Harrison. I need to stop liking Harrison.
PRO: Matt will be my eyes and ears for all things Out House. CON: I’ll have to kiss Matt. Ugh, I might have to do more than kiss him.
PRO: Dating Matt means I can’t hook up with Harrison. CON: Dating Matt means I can’t hook up with Harrison.
CON: I need to forget about Harrison entirely and focus on taking down Layla. She’s the real enemy.
CON: Dating Matt means I’d have to date Matt.
CON: I don’t even like Matt.
CON: It’s wrong to use people.
CON: That would be stooping to Harrison’s level.
PRO: Unless it wasn’t a lie at all and Matt understood my intentions.
PRO: We could help each other. Fake dating me would make him seem date-worthy.
PRO: Fake dating him might convince my subconscious not to engage in any more naked activities with my enemy.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I’ll be your girlfriend.” I sucked in a deep breath. “But there’s a catch.”
Matt blinked at me, his face frozen in a smile, clearly still stuck on the yes part.
I rushed in with the conditions. “I like you, Matt, I do. But only as a friend.”
His face dropped, but his brow furrowed, trying to make sense of my mixed messages.
“Still, I think we can help each other. You continue to find the skeletons in Harrison’s closet and I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend,” I said, dropping my voice to prevent others in the coffee shop from overhearing. “If girls see you dating an upperclassman, they’ll get curious. Wonder what I see in you. They’ll start to see it too. Girls always want what they can’t have. Unattainable equals attractive.”
He smushed a sugar packet with the tips of his fingers. “But I want you.”
And I want Harrison. But sometimes what you wanted wasn’t what you should have. “I know. And I’m really sorry I don’t feel the same way. But let me help you find someone that does like you back.”
He hesitated for a full minute. My chest stilled as I waited.
Matt met my eyes. “Do I still get to kiss you?”
I resisted the urge to cringe. “Only if we’re trying to make someone jealous,” I said, realizing the we’re included me and gave me permission to make Harrison jealous. Except I wouldn’t do that. I was going to stop thinking about Harrison like that. “And no tongue,” I added just to prevent dead fish syndrome all over again.
“Okay,” Matt said, signing my verbal contract.
CON: Harrison and I were one and the same.
Harrison had offered to give me hidden camera surveillance pens but I couldn’t rely on him anymore. Every time I did, something bad happened. Either to the people he exposed or to my heart. So I scoured online websites until I found the same items Harrison must have purchased. Several pens, a magnet, and a few black circle devices were soon on the way to my house. But a set of three cost five hundred. I’d have to do this the old fashioned way. Evidence via word of mouth and whatever we could snag on an iPhone video.
The front door opened and I leaped off my bed and lurched into the hallway. Fallon trudged upstairs to her room and jumped when she spotted me hovering on the landing. “Oh, hi Bianca,” she said. “You scared me.”
“I have to talk to you,” I blurted, bouncing on my toes. I’d been waiting over an hour for her to get home from the art studio. I cursed myself for only memorizing Harrison’s class schedule and not everyone I ever came in contact with.
She squinted at me, pushing her white-blond locks out of her sweaty face. �
��Sure. Just let me put my stuff down.”
I followed into her room and she slowed her pace, whipping her head around at me.
I stopped short, realizing maybe she needed a minute or two of privacy. “I’ll come back in like five minutes?”
But ever since I got the idea this morning, I couldn’t wait another second. Harrison had suggested sending in a spy but the list of options basically contained only one person. Fallon. Layla had already caught Erin with me. She’d never let Mackenzie step within one hundred feet of her. And I didn’t know any freshman well enough to trust their loyalty…without also pretending to be their girlfriend.
Fallon wasn’t part of the Greek system. She was perfect.
Except for the small hinderance that she wanted no part of it.
Her door flew open and she waved me inside. She perched on her bed and offered me her desk chair but I paced the room, too amped to stay still. “I need a huge favor.”
She nodded, always eager to serve. She’d been helping out so much already with the Yours décor even though she gained nothing from it.
“I need you to pledge Layla’s version of Rho Sig.”
Fallon giggled but then clamped her mouth shut when she caught my harried glare. “Oh wait, you’re serious?”
“I know you don’t want anything to do with the Greek System, but I promise, this isn’t for real. I’ll be honest, you’ll probably have to go through some crappy pledge shit but once we gather solid evidence, you can quit for good.” I explained to her about the hazing and the surveillance equipment.
She studied her bitten-to-the-quick nails. “Hazing is one of the reasons I never wanted to join a house.”
I swallowed. “Name your price. Anything.”
“Price?” She sounded offended. “Of course I’ll do it.” Now she sounded offended that I thought she might refuse. Here I was asking her to do something shitty and I realized the shittiest part of all was that I didn’t really know her. “But Layla knows I live here. She’s never going to accept me.”
I bit my lip. “I’ve thought about that. We have to stage a fight. An epic one in Layla’s presence.” I also thought about making sure Harrison wrote about it in the paper but that would require me to talk to him and me talking to him might turn into me fighting with him and me fighting with him might end up with me hooking up with him…so that idea was out. (Or in?) (No, stop it, definitely still out.)
“I’ll have to move out.” Fallon’s voice came out all strangled. “To really make it believable.”
My stomach squeezed. “No! Don’t do that.”
But she was already nodding. “It’s okay. I’ll stay at Liam’s until it’s safe to come back here. Actually, you should kick me out during the staged fight. Any ideas when that could happen?”
I nodded solemnly. Wednesday marked the end of Beta Chi’s philanthropy event where the sororities would be pitted against each other in an epic themed skit night with all proceeds going to Multiple Sclerosis research. Beta Chi had already extended an invite for us to participate. And I’d make sure Nate would extend one to Layla. “In five days.”
Fallon stood up fast. “Then I better get packing.”
When I opened the door to find Nate and Dale standing on the porch, I let out a squeal of excitement. In past years Nate and Corey always coached Rho Sig for the Beta Chi Lambda philanthropy but since Corey was no longer a standing member of the house, someone had to take his place. Though I doubted that Dale volunteered for our house because of us.
They stood side by side, hands in their pockets, not talking. Not even looking at each other.
When they stepped over the threshold, Dale’s eyes flicked in Nate’s direction. A second later, Nate’s flicked in Dale’s.
An idea swelled deep in my gut. I’d promised myself I’d get them together and had let that vow fall to the wayside. They clearly needed a stronger push. Divine intervention in the form of an impromptu Mystery Date party thrown by Rho Sigma. Sure, the usual protocol for a Mystery Date party meant each sister would be assigned someone else in the house to set up on a date. But we were underground. We didn’t need to play by the usual rules. I could invite Nate and Dale and set them up with each other.
And maybe I could use this opportunity to find a date for Matt and uphold my end of the bargain there.
“Don’t make plans Sunday night,” I told them as I ushered them down the basement steps. The Mystery Party plan was already unfolding in my mind. Quigley’s was dead on a Sunday night. We could host it there for free and if we did digital invites, we wouldn’t have to pay any costs at all.
“But the skits aren’t until Wednesday?” Nate said.
“Exactly,” I told him. Everyone would be free. “Actually, can I talk to you for a sec?” I pulled him into a dark corner where the heater concealed my voice. “I think Dale still has feelings for you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, he told me he volunteered for this house because he wanted to work with you.”
Across the way, Dale was staring at us, pleading with me. But I couldn’t make out his message. Was it, “don’t say anything?” or, “say something?!” I chose for him. “Look, I think he’s hurt by what happened between you but also because he thinks you still have feelings for Corey.”
Nate swallowed. “I don’t. I haven’t for a while now.”
That fact was as plain as day to me when Nate and Dale walked in. They both only had eyes for each other. “Tell him. Make a move.”
“But—what if he says no?”
“What if he says yes?” I sauntered away on that note, letting Nate ponder. He dropped onto the purple couch next to Dale, leaving a clear three feet of space between them that crackled with chemistry, or at least I hoped. They avoided looking at each other but stared forward in such a way, I knew they were eyeing each other in their peripheral visions.
“Okay, enough anticipation! Tell us the theme.” Mackenzie asked from her perch on one of the folding chairs.
Nate kept staring forward, his signature move that I used to find endearing. I always used to imagine what he was thinking when he checked out so completely. But now I realized all my romantic feelings toward him were…gone. Drowned in an ocean in Tampa.
Dale leaned forward and raised his brows a few times in succession. “Beauty pageant.”
I froze, mouth going dry, while everyone else either cheered or groaned at the idea of parading in front of guys in the skimpiest of bikinis.
Dale held up his hands. “Not my idea. But could be fun.”
My head involuntarily started shaking.
Nate squinted at me. “What’s wrong, B?”
I rocked in place, feeling dizzy. My mind was a montage of my past: Vaseline slicked across my teeth. Double-sided tape burning as I ripped it off the edge of my boobs. Pain pulsing in the balls of my feet from too-high stilettos. My body full on display while my mind proved unimportant and unnecessary. No one cared what I had to say as long as it was the memorized stock answers about vague suggestions for political causes. Attention, both wanted and unwanted.
Guys who carried weight in the circuit, who peppered you with ultimatums, who convinced you it was your choice to sleep with them in order to get ahead. That it was the right thing. You needed this. You wanted this. Not the sex, but the opportunities it unfolded. And you did, so you agreed.
Cringing as they moved on top of you, slick with sweat, and you watched the hotel clock tick tick tick until it was over and you could let the tears fall freely in the shower before you covered it all up with pounds of make up.
Your wavering smile as the same guy from earlier placed the crown on top of your head and offered you a private wink, which almost made you shatter right there on stage.
Stage moms who encouraged it all—all—and shook their heads in disappointment when you finally snapped, punched one of the judges in the gut, then quit before the state finals where you were the frontrunner.
Mothers who still wouldn’t look at
you the same after you walked away forever and crushed their dreams. Rage that only escalated from that first punch, spiraled further by your mother’s huge failure at being motherly.
A stuffy house filled with accusations and disappointment. The cowardly decision not to subject yourself to that anymore. To flee for the entire summer to your best friend’s house as a partially unwelcome guest and work in the news industry you never thought you wanted but now you wonder how you ever lived without.
“Bianca?” Nate prompted. Heads started swiveling in my direction, their gazes weighing heavy on my back.
Bile rose to the apex of my throat. I scrambled out of my chair and flew up the steps, only pausing to catch my ragged breath at the top. Footsteps pounded after me and in a flash Erin, Mackenzie, and Nate surrounded me. Corey must have stayed downstairs as subterfuge.
“I take it Beauty Pageant is a terrible theme?” Mackenzie said in a clear attempt to make a joke that fell to a splat on the floor at our feet. Last year she’d opted out of the Beta Chi philanthropy week because she and Corey had just broken up and the year before she’d been secured to the ball and chain of her ex. This was her first event with them.
I opened my mouth to make some excuse but a strangled cry escaped. In a swoosh, Erin pulled me into a hug and Nate patted my shoulder for comfort. Last year his touch would have fueled me for days. Now I craved someone else I couldn’t have.
I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Sorry, guys. I’ll be okay,” I said, but I knew it wasn’t enough. No one reacts that strangely to the mention of a fun theme. I owed them an explanation. But I’d long buried the truth, and I needed it to stay there. Ms. L’s letter be damned. “I used to do pageants,” I whispered, as if that was my ultimate shame. I said no more and received no questions. My friends were good ones: they knew when I needed space.
Mackenzie offered me a sad smile. “You can sit out of this one. No big deal.”
