by Kata Čuić
“Nice,” Jake comments.
They go through the entire ordeal again for four more rounds. On the last, they slam their shots in the air and yell, “Dibs!” at varying times.
“Tim and Nate got it first. Winner of this round plays Jimbo. Winner of that round plays Jake, and Sophia is last since she didn’t call dibs.”
“Smart.” Tim nods in my direction. “Gives you time to sober up.”
I blink at them in confusion.
“You have to call dibs to see who goes first when pong gets started for the night,” Jake explains. “Then, it’s on a tier system with the winner of each round playing a new opponent.”
There are actual rules to beer pong? “You guys have this whole culture I never knew about before.”
Oops. That just slipped out.
“You’re here now.” Jimbo smiles again as he makes his way behind the bar. “That’s all that matters.”
I flip him the bird.
He winks at me. “Later.”
Another amateur mistake on my part. Everyone around the bar laughs because I basically just asked Jimbo to fuck me. And he agreed. Publicly. So, he obviously didn’t go as low as he possibly could on the dance floor.
Jimbo and Jake start filling red Solo cups with beer from the keg behind the bar then pass them off to Tim and Nate, who carry them to the table on the other side of the basement. I don’t need to know how they set up for pong. I’m rattled, and I need a few minutes to calm down, get my head on straight again, and prepare to crush Jimbo into itty-bitty pieces.
Chapter Fourteen
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My features appear fuzzy, and that’s not just because the surface seems to be permanently fogged.
Can I really do this? Can I really meet Jimbo on this low level? Can we really trade orgasms like weapons of mass destruction?
Sure, we’ve slept together before. Yes, my panties are still uncomfortably damp from what happened downstairs. And yeah, my initial plan was to make him fall in love with me since he planned that first.
That’s almost worse, in hindsight. Casual sex is one thing but tricking someone into having actual feelings is … God, that’s just awful. Way worse than anything we’ve ever done to each other before.
“This is stupid,” I tell my reflection. “I don’t want to be like this.”
I’ve changed before. I can do it again.
I went from wild child in high school to good girl in college. Tonight hasn’t been all bad. I’m actually really enjoying the camaraderie with Tim and Nate and Jake. It’s fun, getting to see this side of Shannon. Maybe what I need to do is find a happy medium.
Just like with Jimbo.
Shannon’s so right. Hate and love are too closely intertwined, and I can’t do this anymore. It’s exhausting. I’ve been rising to his challenges for so long because I never wanted to seem weaker than I already felt when he pretended not to know who I was at our rookie camp.
And honestly, I wanted him to notice me. I wanted to matter.
But maybe it just doesn’t fucking matter.
Maybe it never mattered at all.
He made his choice, and I should have respected it. A good feminist would.
It’s not like I haven’t had other boyfriends since Jimbo. I get so pissed at all the casual sex he has, but maybe that’s only because it reminds me I was casual to him, too.
And I never wanted to be that.
But that wasn’t my choice to make. I misunderstood, and I need to get over it already.
“Get over it,” I tell myself. “Just get over it.”
A knock on the bathroom door reminds me I’m not alone in the house, and until I get my apartment back, I don’t really have as much privacy for talking to myself as it might seem.
“Sorry! Be out in a sec!” I turn on the faucet to make it seem like I was doing normal things in here instead of giving myself a lame pep talk.
I wince at the line six people deep when I open the door. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to take so long! Why didn’t you use the bathrooms upstairs?”
“Because those are off-limits to anyone but ITK brothers,” Jared answers, pushing off the wall. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. Here, this is for you.”
He holds out a to-go thermos with the State Miner logo printed on it.
“It’s a little late for coffee.”
“It’s not coffee.” He smiles, and this one seems much nicer than the ones he wore downstairs. “I know the guys kind of put a spotlight on you by not letting you take the shots, and I also know how important it is to you to have a fair fight. They’re hammered already downstairs, so unless you want to cheat by being sober when you face off with your opponent, you might want to drink this.”
That doesn’t make any sense. “I thought you wanted Jimbo to lose?”
“Oh, I do.” At least he’s honest. “Like I said, I know how important this is to you. And any chance I get to undermine Jimbo, I’m gonna take. You’ve already got my vote. You’re the best candidate for the job.”
“Thank you.” It’s the first time anyone has told me that since the voting was announced at camp. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but what’s in the drink?”
He glances down at the cup then up at me again. “It’s a mixed drink. Whiskey and cola. I know you don’t attend parties much, but the beer keg is as cheap as they can get it. Tastes like piss on a good day and warm piss by the end of the night or after sitting on the pong table for a while. The secret is to be buzzed enough before you play, so you won’t taste it.”
That sounds like solid advice. I’m not a big beer fan anyway. I prefer a cocktail on the rare occasions I drink. “It’s not a good idea to mix the two though, right? I always get the saying confused. Which way does it go?”
He barks out a short laugh. “Liquor before beer, in the clear. Beer before liquor, never sicker. I thought you didn’t party much? How do you even know about that?”
I take the offered thermos. “Just because I don’t go to ITK parties every week doesn’t mean I’ve never been to a party. And we go to State. Even if I holed up alone in the library and did nothing but study, I’d find out that info eventually.”
He laughs. “True enough. Well, see if you like this. If you don’t, I’ll make you something else. I might have been a little heavy-handed on the whiskey.”
I take a tentative sip, expecting the burn of the shot, but it’s much more pleasant. “This is a perfect mix, Jared. Thanks. Why aren’t you the bartender for ITK parties?”
“We have a rotating schedule,” he explains. “Until we get pledges in a few weeks, the brothers take turns manning the bar. Jimbo volunteered for tonight since he’s president, but I have bar duty next week for the kick-off toga party.”
I’ve heard about these infamous toga parties. “The themed parties are open to anyone on campus, right? Not just for bandies?”
“Yep. That’s how we raise funds. Cover charge on open party nights.”
Loud cheering floats up the stairs from the basement.
“That’s my cue to get back down there. You’d better drink up. It’ll be your turn soon.”
I raise my thermos. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He heads downstairs, and I take a seat at the table where a group of saxophones are playing what looks like euchre. This is a perfect opportunity to get in some quality time with my bandies.
“Do you mind if I hang with you up here for a while? At least until it’s my turn at pong?”
Charlie, a sophomore, smiles. “This whole competition thing is so crazy. I’m so sorry you’re being put through this.”
“It’s okay. As long as it’s fun for everyone, we don’t mind doing it.” I take a few deep swigs of my drink. It really is good. I could get used to this.
“It’s not really fun for everyone,” a junior says, studying the cards. “I miss the rookie-initiation ritual. Now, that was fun.”
“I
know,” I admit. “But we didn’t have enough notice to plan anything else. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them. Even though I’m graduating, we can still make next year better.”
And surprise, surprise, they have tons of ideas.
We get so deep into conversation about all sorts of improvement ideas, I startle when someone yells my name.
Shannon peers at me from the doorway to the basement. “Have you been here the whole time? Everyone’s looking for you downstairs. You’re up for pong!”
I rise from the table and realize my equilibrium is way off. I also realize my drink is empty. I’m definitely on even footing now. Not with the ground. With the other drum majors. Holy shit, I might be drunk. It takes a little more effort than usual for me to walk across the kitchen. “How long have I been up here, and who am I playing?”
“Jimbo.” Shannon smiles, but I really can’t tell if it’s out of pity or out of encouragement. “And you’ve been missing in action for over an hour. I was starting to get worried.”
I follow down to the basement, gripping the railing like I’ve never used stairs in my life. “Why didn’t you look for me upstairs?”
She glances over her shoulder as she makes a path through the bodies toward the pong table. “Honestly, I kind of thought you needed a little time-out to regroup after the dancing thing. Especially since you didn’t really get to have your revenge with the shots.”
Oh, I got some revenge all right. Thanks to Jared. But I’m not in the revenge business anymore. I’m letting it go. And honestly, I am feeling so relaxed and happy right now that I don’t even care if Jimbo beats me at beer pong. I will take it on the chin, shake his hand, and congratulate him on a game well played. And then I will talk openly with more of my bandies tomorrow at practice, and I will win head drum major the right way.
“Here she is!” Shannon deposits me at one end of the beer pong table.
Jimbo does not look nearly as happy to see me as he usually is when he’s about to win at something. “Where the fuck did you get that?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The drink, Soph. Where’d you get the drink?”
Oh, I’m still holding my special little cup. Maybe Jared can get me a refill. This was way better than cheap, warm beer.
Suddenly, someone pulls the thermos out of my hand. I look up. It’s Jimbo.
“Oh my God, you drank it all?”
Why wouldn’t I drink it all? “Why wouldn’t I drink it all, Jimmy? Jim, Jimbo, the Jimster. I’m not gonna call you James anymore. It’s mean. I only called you James because I knew you hated it. Would you answer to Jimmy? You were Jimmy when I first met you. I’m really not a fan of Jimbo, but if that’s what you prefer, then that’s what I’ll call you.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re wasted.” He slams the thermos down on the table and glances around the room. “How long ago did you give this to her, you motherfucking asshole?”
Jared’s laughing.
I like Jared. I wave at Jared. “Jared, can you make me more? It was really good.”
“How long?”
“Jimmy, there is no need to shout. We’re all friends here.” I pat his arm. His super-muscly, muscled arm.
“I put enough in that thermos for a guy your size!” Jimbo keeps shouting. He’s never been very good at listening. Especially to me. “If she ends up in the hospital tonight, so help me God, I will murder you. Now, how long ago did you give it to her?”
“About an hour ago, I guess. If it hasn’t kicked in yet, it’s probably not going to.” Jared’s still laughing. He’s having fun.
I would like to have some more fun, too. “Let’s play pong, Jimmy. No more war. I want to have fun!”
“No time, babe.” He bends down, and then the room tumbles upside down.
Maybe I fell again. Like that one time at band camp.
“Make a hole!” Jimbo yells.
A path through feet magically opens up until I’m spun around, and the feet close in again in front of me, except I’m moving backward and then up the stairs.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jimmy chants as he runs.
Oh, I get it. He threw me over his shoulder. We’re running up to the third floor. The hallway tumbles right side up, and Jimmy pushes the bathroom door open.
“Get in there and just take off all your clothes. I’ll be back with supplies as soon as I can.”
He shoves me into the room then slams the door in my face.
I don’t get a chance to tell him I don’t want to compete over orgasms. I don’t want to compete at all anymore.
Chapter Fifteen
I thought hell was opening my eyes on the field to find Jimmy holding his hand out to me. I thought embarrassment was thinking everyone in the basement knew I’d had an orgasm just from dancing with him.
I was wrong.
I was so, so wrong.
Hell is my intestines liquefying then being expelled with G-forces that shouldn’t be possible through a flaming duct of razor blades that used to be my asshole.
I once thought I might like to try anal play with the right person. Nothing will ever go near my asshole again. Nothing might ever go in my mouth again either. Because I might not live through this, and if I do, I’m drinking nothing but water for the rest of my sad, humiliated life.
“How are you holding up in there?”
I’m too weak to even glare at the bathroom door that Jimmy’s voice carries through.
“Why are you still out there? Go away.”
God, the fan doesn’t even work in here. Not only does it smell like an actual sewer, but he must also be able to hear every horrifying retch of my entire digestive system collapsing into the toilet.
I’ve flushed no less than fifty times.
“I told you, I’m not leaving you.”
“Please leave, Jim,” I whisper through tears of absolute agony. “Please leave me. Forever.”
“Please let me come in there,” he begs.
“If you open that door,” I scream loud enough that, surely, everyone all the way down in the basement hears me, “I swear to God, it will be the last thing you ever do!”
“I don’t want you to pass out and hit your head on anything,” he pleads. “Just promise you’ll tell me if you feel faint or if you have heart palpitations or anything really dangerous. If you’re too weak to get up, let me help you. You’re probably dehydrated. If you want to clean up, I can put you in the shower.”
I absolutely want to clean up.
My act.
I sobered up pretty quickly after the first half hour of the explosive fecal horror show. And I am firmer than ever in my belief that this is all my fault. I did this to myself. I should never have tried to play dirty to win this drum major competition. When I heard Jimmy’s plan, I should have done exactly what Shannon suggested. I should have notified the directors about improper behavior.
I can’t even say I didn’t go that route because I didn’t want to be a snitch.
I just didn’t want to say no to Jimmy’s waving red flag.
I’m saying no from now on.
“Soph? Just make some noise every few minutes, so I know you’re still alive, okay?”
No.
“Sophie, honey? I’m coming in there if you don’t let me know you’re okay.”
Well, I definitely don’t want that. “No.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
“Are you drinking the electrolytes I brought you?”
“No.”
“Do you need more baby wipes?”
“No.”
“More air freshener?”
“No.”
“Don’t forget to use the ointment. It really helps.”
“No.” It actually does help. A little.
“I can’t believe you,” another voice comes through the door. Shannon.
“It wasn’t for her, I swear!”
> So, they’re having a conversation about me. Where I can hear them. While it sounds and smells like a giraffe is dying in here. Great.
I might just sleep in the bathtub tonight. I might never open that door again. Eventually, my entire body is going to disintegrate anyway. They can just rinse me down the drain.
“I meant, I can’t believe you were stupid enough to hand Jared a drink that you’d just magnanimously made for him in a special cup, no less, and actually expected him to fall for it! You’re so much better than that!”
No, he’s not. He’s not better than anything.
“I know, all right! I just … I was pissed about the shit he’d pulled at camp. Then, he came into our house and pulled the same shit again tonight, and I snapped!”
Every time he says shit, my poor, abused asshole spasms.
“Even if he didn’t drink it himself, how was I supposed to know he was going to give it to Sophie?”
“Because you know damn well he likes to hit you where it hurts.”
They continue their argument that fades away as I repeatedly doze off. Still sitting on the toilet.
A thud wakes me up.
“Sophie?”
It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. Still in the bathroom, curled up on the floor in the fetal position I wanted so desperately to be in when I first arrived at this house of mayhem.
“I haven’t heard you in a while.” Jimmy’s voice sounds different. Gravelly. Like he just woke up, too. “Give me a sign of life, or I’m coming in there.”
“Please don’t,” I croak, barely audible. My tongue weighs a thousand pounds. So do my limbs.
I’ve been wrung out within an inch of my life, but my stomach isn’t quivering with revolt anymore. The bathroom doesn’t smell like the deepest pit of a garbage dump, but I might just be so used to it that I’ll never notice a sweet fragrance ever again.
The door creaks open, but I can’t even cringe.
“I think it’s over, honey. Everyone’s gone. It’s been hours.”
I lick my lips, but it doesn’t matter. Every part of me feels as cracked and dry as a raisin left too long in the sun. “What time is it?”
