by Ina Carter
He knew the lunch lady, and she let him cut in line, so we could get our lunches first. Then, we ran behind the gym with our loaded trays and ate our sandwiches away from the other kids. Lunch was my favorite part of school because Kevin always made me laugh. I was nervous when I pulled out the paper with my story and gave it to him. He looked at the page and started reading it. His face was blank like he’d gone somewhere far away. I was nervous. His opinion was always what mattered most. This time though, when he finished reading, he didn’t yell “Snowfall,” didn’t make a joke that teachers are “dumb,” and didn’t tell me I’d do better next time. He looked at me, his eyes more like the mid-summer pond—liquid greens, glossed with moisture.
“You know, one day I’ll be sitting in our corner in the library and reading a book you wrote,” he whispered. “You have to see yourself when I read you a story. You ain’t listening, Jules. You get that look, like you are transported inside the book, like you are living someone else’s life…”
Maybe Kevin is right? Mamma says I’m running into walls ‘cause I keep my head always in the clouds. Last week when Miss Morris said to write a story about what we want to be when we are grown-ups, I wrote about my dream to be an adventurer and find lost things…
You must be careful what you wish for because, in a way, this was exactly how my life unfolded. Unfortunately, my adventures were not exciting but painful, and I was still searching for the things I lost. When I looked at the letter and read the word, “Congratulations,” I knew I had skipped over the first obstacle on my journey.
Once my family assumed I was “fixed,” even they let off the constant disparagements and gave me a little more space. As long as I dressed appropriately, joined them at their country club, and smiled, they were placated.
My mother’s friends, like her, were all shallow and spent their time at the country club, gossiping and talking behind other women’s backs. I sat with them, biting my tongue, and wondering what they were saying about me while I wasn’t there. One day I decided I had had enough. Tessa, my mother’s bestie, was commenting on some woman’s clothes and how her tennis skirt was so short it was showing her ass. It was pure hypocrisy, considering they were all in their late forties, but dressing from the kid’s section in the store and calling it “cougar sexy” style.
“Oh, are you talking about Tammy? I heard her husband wants her to showcase the new butt implants. She went to Kim’s surgeon you know,” I whispered like I was in on the gossip.
“Kardashian’s surgeon?” Tessa perked up.
“Oh, God no. That’s just lame. Kim Jong Un’s personal doctor. She went all the way to North Korea for the surgery. You know, they have the best of everything there. It would blow your mind. The best food, the best hospitals, the best clothes… It’s the new thing and people say it’s explosive.” I mocked them. All eyes were on me, like my mother’s friends thought I was serious, and they were behind on some trend. Those women couldn’t care less what was happening in the world, and probably never watched any news besides TMZ. I held my laughter imagining the face of Tessa’s travel agent if she asked about the cost of medical vacay to North Korea.
My father was not that dumb and gave me a scorching look when he overheard my sarcastic comment but didn’t call me on my bullshit. I think he preferred the phony act and subtle mockery to my previous antagonism towards their social circle.
Manipulating self-absorbed people was not that hard. I cut some of the obvious derision and focused on how I could circumvent my mother’s attempt to make me look like a circus clown in college. A few casual mentions that “pink was so last season” backed up with some stupid article in a fashion magazine, and my mother was in a frenzy to change her own wardrobe. Even her stylist Claudio started singing my tune once he understood his self-interest in the scheme. So, my new college wardrobe was somewhat normal once my mother was convinced that the sport-casual style was the new “glam.” Distressed Gucci jeans and Tom Ford sneakers were way better than a mini dress paired with Louboutin’s.
In one of our outings to dinner with her friend Bethany, my mother introduced me to her daughter who was the leader of the Delta Phi sorority. Cattie was a bitch, and she told me she and Bianca were friends, which meant she already had a preconception of who I was. It was not going to be easy to fool her with my phony act. Because of my mother, I was considered a direct legacy for the freaking sorority, which ensured I would get an invite. Still, I had a feeling Cattie was going to make me suffer, and wouldn’t let me into her circle without some pushback.
My first week of college was far from perfect. My dad called me into his office and stomped over my hope that he might let me live on campus until Rush week.
“No way, Lauren. You can stay here, drive to classes, and go to your interviews with the Delta Phi sisters. You can move out only if you get accepted. This was the deal, right?”
I knew what he meant – there was still a chance I might not attend the college I worked so hard to get into, unless I truly submitted. I needed motivation, a reason to go through the recruitment process. I needed to see Kevin Tanner.
I drove to USC and as soon as I registered for classes, I veered in the direction of Dedeaux Field. The baseball team had practice, but I couldn’t sneak inside the facilities, so I walked around the fence and hid behind the advertising panels. I recognized the guy from the photo instantly. He was at the batting cages, laser-focused on the flying balls. I was too far away to see his face to know for sure if he was my Kevin. Many memories might have faded away, but his eyes were etched into my brain, and every time the sky started falling and my world crashing, I just reached into that vivid memory and found my safe haven.
Watching that baseball player, even though he was not like the scrawny little boy from my childhood, I noticed familiar things. The ritual he had before batting – swing left, right, tap his shoulder, down, then tap his back.
My heart skipped a beat. I remembered my Kevin used to do the same thing when we were young. Year after we met, Kevin and I stopped taking the school bus because we started going to the public library at the other end of town. We found a corner that we claimed as ours and spent a few hours each day reading books. Kevin was the one who read to me before I moved up from picture books. My mamma worked late in the diner and daddy didn’t care if I was late. I didn’t know if Kevin got in trouble with his dad, but he never spoke about Jack Mason in general.
Kevin always had a large twig in his hand that looked like a baseball bat. Of course, he never played baseball. We were too poor for Little League, and the school didn’t have sports until middle school. He left his “weapon” by the school fence and picked it up when he walked me home. He used to say, “There are bad people, Julie. I got to protect you.” And he did. Many times. But while we walked down the road, he always did the same thing - swing left, right, tap his shoulder, down, then tap his back. Just like this guy.
I watched the man I was stalking for an hour that day. When we were little kids, Kevin was a good-looking boy with his shaggy hair and disarming smile. The teachers at school loved him and let him get away with trouble when he charmed his way out of the shenanigans he pulled. Some things might have never changed because this guy had the “bad boy charmer” written all over him. He had grown into his looks, and I was sure he would be breaking hearts left, right, and center around campus. Kevin Tanner was tall, athletic, and gorgeous as sin, but not in a wholesome preppy way. His sleeve tattoos and the “I don’t give a shit” attitude were in contrast with his open laughter and lighthearted bantering with his teammates.
I wished I was closer to hear what they were talking about or take a closer look at his ink. I knew tattoos told a whole lot about someone, and even though I had just two – they encompassed my entire life.
Before I left the field armed with the conviction that I had found my old friend, I looked at my class schedule, considering when I could sneak back and stalk him a bit more. I needed to form a plan of how to bump in
to Kevin and what to say to him. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the date. It was August 22, Kevin’s birthday. He was not only turning 22 today, but it was exactly twelve years after we were torn apart. This was the exact sign from the Universe I needed. I had to persevere, swallow my pride, and pledge that sorority.
The moment I stepped foot in the Delta Phi house I knew I’d entered my worst nightmare. The task of convincing those girls I was like them was not going to be an easy one.
The place was not bad, the rooms were spacious, but the whole sisterhood was exactly like Cattie and Bianca – fake smiles, haughty attitude, and a single-minded conviction to crush my spirit.
Based on my choice of outfits during “rush week,” I tried to give the impression I belonged. When I looked in the mirror the morning before my first interview, I almost gagged. My short skirt barely left anything to the imagination, down to the t-shirt with the bedazzled logo of Delta Phi I gathered and tied into a knot to reveal my midriff.
During Greek recruitment, I walked around the booths and talked to some of the other sorority sisters and not all were horrid. There were some normal girls who spoke about academic success, helping each other with tutoring, normal social activities, and philanthropic causes. Why did I have to be stuck with the “rich’n’bitch” house?
I did my research and found out that Cattie had a fashion blog, and she’d even posted a whole “advice article” of what you should wear to each day of Rush. With Claudio’s help, I spent some insane amount of money to try and fit in. And yet, all week the skank was on my case, picking on my outfits and declaring them “inappropriate” or “lame.”
I think the one reason I made it to the final round and pledged the sorority was that they all knew who my father was, and you simply don’t reject the daughter of the L.A. District Attorney. It’s probably the most valuable connection those bitches could hope for, considering you never know if your future rich hubby might keep the swanky lifestyle with some questionable business ventures.
One week in that house, and I was ready to kill myself just listening to the constant chatter, pointless pretentiousness, and giggling.
We were just getting ready for bed when Cattie and a few of her minions opened our doors and screamed that all new pledges should come down to the living room. This was it – the hazing. The one thing that I was afraid would make me snap, say something stupid, and get myself kicked out. I closed my eyes remembering all the reasons I was there and going through with this hell.
“Listen, bitches!” Cattie spat at us. “To be a real member of this house, it’s time you show us you can follow rules. From now on, you won’t speak. Not to each other, not to us, and not to your masters until you are allowed.”
Her choice of words made me shiver. Horrid images of chokers, chains, and torture came to mind. They used that word “master” for slave owners after all. Her next words confirmed my fears.
“Tomorrow morning, you won’t go to classes. Instead, all of you will stand in front of the Bovar Auditorium and wait to be chosen. All of our brother fraternities and the athletic stars will have the first pick. You’ll each wear a pin with your number, and whichever guy takes it, you’ll be his slave for the day. You’ll have to do whatever they tell you – their laundry, clean their rooms…. Tomorrow night there will be a party at one of the fraternities and you are required to attend.”
I was about to throw up; the bitterness of the humiliation choking me. Was this a part of proving yourself as a submissive pushover wife? Cattie’s word “slave” was ringing in my ears like an omen. This was what I signed up for, wasn’t it? It was part of the blasted deal.
“What if they ask us to have sex?” some girl asked, looking a bit scared. Most of them were still freshmen - too young to be thrown to the wolves.
My eyes snapped to Cattie, watching her as her lips crooked into an evil smile.
“The brothers are not going to pressure you for sex, dimwit. No one wants to be accused of rape… However, it’s up to you what you do tonight – it’s a party anyway.” She nodded like this was completely normal and part of the party scene.
Once again, I had to bite the inside of my cheek, lower my head, and shut my eyes. I knew my father, and he wasn’t going to hesitate to pull me out of school for the smallest infraction. I’d dealt with assholes before, and I was sure I could handle some frat brother if he got too handsy. After all, Kevin taught me how to hit when I was six.
Chapter 6
Humiliation day. No other way to describe the spectacle that I was a part of. All ten of us Delta Phi pledges were lined up like cattle at the country fair, ready to be inspected and branded. I wished I could disappear. My plan was to wear something horrible like a baggie sweater, to roll out of bed and not put makeup on; not even brush my hair. I would rather be the laughingstock for the frat brothers than attract anyone’s attention. My idea went up in flames when Cattie sashayed into my room at 5 a.m. and declared that we all had a “big sister” who would be in charge of our wardrobe and would shadow us to make sure we didn’t “disobey.” When she turned to me, her eyes were cruel, full of spite.
“I’ll be your watchdog, Lauren. I promised your dad I’d keep an eye on you,” she spat the words.
She didn’t have to spell it out for me, but the bitch knew everything about my rebellious past and that I was at her mercy. She didn’t say it, but I was sure she would be on the phone all day, updating my father on how I followed his rules.
Sometimes I wondered if he got a kick out of breaking me. He was the type of man who thrived on power, and my mother and sister were not a challenge to him. They were easily bendable and eager to submit to his will. Me on the other hand – I put up a fight and always kicked back. Now he had me where he wanted me. Maybe If I provided him with a good show, and he had proof I was finally broken, he’d leave me alone. “It’s one day” I reminded myself. Then, I’ll stay low and try not to get on Cattie’s radar, focus on school and on my goal. Maybe once I met Kevin, he would save me from this hell.
The bitch picked the shortest skirt from my closet and gave me curt directions for an hour on how to do my makeup. I ended up looking like all of them – plastic and soulless, a girl without dignity.
It was only six in the morning and the campus was still dead, classes not starting for another hour. My skin crawled, covered in goosebumps, not only because I was freezing my butt off, but from the anxiety that I might be picked by some asshole who would make me do God knows what.
The first sign of life came from a group of three football players who were passing through campus on their way to the Physical Education Building. They were dressed in tracksuits and seemed to be in a hurry to get to their morning practice. When they saw our group, they stopped and started to hoot, like they were amused by the spectacle we made.
I was mortified when the other pledges and their “big sisters” started giving those guys a complete show, they pushed out their chests, batted their eyelashes seductively, and almost drooled over the prospect they might be picked by one of those hunks. Cattie seemed to know some of the football players because she addressed them by name.
“Chris, Graham, come on guys, don’t you need someone to carry your bags or clean your locker room? My girls are all yours for the day.” she taunted them.
One of the guys, a handsome African-American, looked with disdain at our group and snarked at Cattie. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. One of your pledges might break a nail, and then drama all day… The frat boys might like that crap, but it’s not my game.”
The other guys laughed at his comment and continued down the street, not sparing us another look. I finally exhaled the breath I was holding. There was hope. By the look on Cattie’s face, she was pissed. I bet the bitch was not used to being snubbed in public in front of the pledges. Thank God for normal guys.
I was enjoying this a bit and lowered my head to hide my smirk when I heard Cattie’s shrilly voice. “Hey, Tanner – come over here.”
&nbs
p; My head snapped to the guy running past us. He slowed down because Cattie got in his path and blocked him with her hand to his chest. Kevin Tanner was only five feet from me, and I could finally see his face up close. His eyes were blazing fire, and his hard jaw clenched when he looked at my keeper. Jesus! I remembered that look so well. It was usually directed at Tommy or some of the other bullies who picked on me. This Kevin was even more intimidating, hovering a head taller than my current tormentor, making her take a step back like she was afraid for her life.
“What do you want, Corine?” he hissed in her face. It was apparent that the guy couldn’t stand her.
“Cattie,” she corrected him, and then like a trained robot, she plastered a fake smile on her lips and pretended she didn’t notice his disdain. “Don’t be mean, Kevin. We are just having a little fun with our new sisters. Didn’t you get the fliers?”
She reached for his arm, flirtatiously batting her eyelashes, trying to sway him with whatever she had in her arsenal. Kevin pulled away like he was burned by her touch, but he snapped his head in our direction.
And then our eyes met. Images of the jade irises sparkled with specs of gold and lashes a shade darker than his hair floated in my memory. His eyes were similar to the boy I knew, but there was no warmth, no recognition, no kindness in the look directed at me – only cold contempt. A shadow of pain crossed his face, and his jaw tightened even harsher than before, the knuckles of his hand, holding the strap of his gym bag, turned white.
Without breaking eye contact, Kevin Tanner approached me, standing only a few inches from my face, towering over me like a thundercloud. I could smell his minty breath when he spoke.
“What’s your name?” his words sounded like a threat. Penetrating. Cutting deep into my soul.
“Her name is Lau…” Cattie’s voice came from somewhere far away.