by Tiffany King
“Tressa, I can help you catch up.” His words finally wormed their way through my mind, which was acting like a horny teenager.
I glared at him before jerking away stubbornly. “I don’t need your help.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. College can be hard for some people.” I bristled at his words. Hard for some people? He might as well have attached morons like you to the statement.
“Don’t worry about us stupid folk. You can go play with your intellectual kind,” I drawled before turning around and stalking away.
It wasn’t until I was out of the building that I finally allowed my shoulders to slump.
Mother of all donkey suck. I wasn’t sure I could remember a time when I felt as mortified as I was at the moment. The idea that Trent knew about my academic failures felt like a sucker punch to the gut. I couldn’t believe Professor N had blabbed. Wasn’t there some kind of student confidentiality or something he was supposed to uphold?
My anger carried me across campus to my apartment. I was still fuming as I stomped up the four flights of stairs. I shoved through the front door, slamming it closed behind me.
“Whoa, Hurricane Tressa,” Derek joked, looking up from his laptop. I ignored him, throwing my book bag on the floor and then kicking it across the room in a complete fit of anger. “Whose ass needs to be kicked?”
“Professor N’s,” I answered through gritted teeth, hurling myself on the couch beside Derek.
“Oh, well, I’m out on that one.”
“Gee, thanks.” I glared at him.
“What happened?”
I shrugged, not wanting to tell him the real issue. It was bad enough Professor N and Trent knew the current dismal condition my grades were in. I didn’t need my friends to know I was a total loser. “Nothing,” I mumbled, climbing off the couch.
“Hey, you can talk to me.” He sounded sincere. For a moment, I was tempted, but the words stuck in my throat like a lump.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, grabbing my book bag off the floor and heading for our room. I closed the door behind me and tossed the bag in the far corner. At the moment, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. I collapsed on the bed as the last of my anger faded and was replaced with remorse and something akin to pain.
“Tressa,” Derek called, knocking cautiously on the door.
“Come in,” I answered in a monotone voice.
Derek turned the knob and entered the room slowly. If I wasn’t in total mopeville I would have laughed. My friends knew me well enough to know that if something got me this steamed, it must be serious. “If you need me to kick your professor’s ass, I’ll do it,” he said, looking pained. He slid an arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
I debated his words like I was actually giving them serious consideration. “No. He’s a tough old bird. It would be embarrassing for you if he was the one who ended up doing the ass-kicking.”
“Hey, I’m tough. I’m just not sure I could punch an old dude, let alone Professor N.”
“It’s the thought that counts, sparrow.” I felt marginally better. Derek excelled in this area.
“What else can I do to make it all better?”
“Do you and Cameo feel like going out?” I asked hopefully. I kept my eyes averted from my book bag, ignoring my promise to buckle down.
“I’m game. I think Cam said she had to work until eleven, though. What time do you want to leave?”
I glanced at my phone to check the time, seeing that it was later than I thought. “Does six work for you?”
“That works. Now, put on a happy face. We’re going out,” he said, dropping an endearing kiss on my head.
What a relief. Going out was exactly what I needed. I would deal with my mess later.
5.
In typical Tressa fashion, dealing with my schoolwork mess meant basically ignoring it altogether. I had recently gotten a job at a coffeehouse near the campus that kept me busy and made it easy to temporarily forget about my academic nightmare. In my twisted justification, I convinced myself the extra money was more important than improving my grades. What MSC really needed was a procrastination class. That’s a subject I would excel in.
Saturday night rolled around and my book bag was still taunting me from the corner of the room where I had left it. I knew it needed my attention, but the big Sigma Pi throwdown was tonight. It couldn’t be missed. I made a vow to myself that tonight would be the last party I attended until I was caught up in my classes. It felt like the entire campus was buzzing over rumors about what the fraternity had in store for the pledges. If half of them were true, tonight would be the party of all parties.
“Tress, what do you think of this?” Cameo asked, joining me in the bathroom, where I was liberally applying my eye makeup.
“Whoa, this is smoking.” I whistled, admiring the practically see-through sheer blouse she’d bought last weekend. Instead of a camisole underneath, she paired it with a plum-colored Victoria’s Secret bra, skintight jeans in the same deep plum color, and six-inch heels to complete the look. “You look like a total sex kitten.”
“Meow,” she responded, tracing her lips with liner. “I’ll probably freeze my ass off, but it’ll be worth it.”
“It’s not like you have a whole lot to freeze off,” I said, smacking her butt on my way out.
“Hey, you have to buy me a drink before you get to test the merchandise.”
“You liked it,” I teased, adjusting my clothes. Just a few minutes ago, I had been satisfied with the way I looked. Now, standing next to Cameo’s petite frame, I felt self-conscious. At times like this, it was hard not to feel inadequate.
“Eventually I’d like to use the bathroom too,” Derek complained, joining me in the hallway.
“Sorry, sparrow, you can’t rush this,” Cameo said, leaving the bathroom with a cloud of Viva La Juicy perfume in her wake.
Derek coughed, fanning his hands in front of his face to clear the fragrant fumes. “Viva should be spritzed, not bathed in.”
“I’m not sure what I find more alarming. That you used the word spritzed or that you know Viva by smell,” Cameo called after him as he closed the bathroom door.
“I have four sisters.” His voice was muffled through the door.
“I’m sure that’s what it is,” I said, winking at Cameo.
Ten minutes later we were chattering away as we walked down the second flight of stairs when a familiar voice called Derek’s name.
Derek’s eyes looked panicked even in the dimly lit stairwell. Run, he mouthed, grabbing our hands and dragging us down the stairs.
“Hey, these shoes aren’t made for running,” I hissed, trying not to fall down the stairs. My hooker heels were impractical for most vertical activities, but they looked uber hot.
“Just hurry,” Derek squeaked in a high-pitched voice that should have embarrassed him.
“If you break my heels, I’m going to break your head.”
Derek nodded, though he didn’t slow down. We could still hear the thumping of footsteps on the stairs above us.
The door leading outside was within sight when we heard “yoo-hoo” right behind us. Derek groaned under his breath.
“Gird your loins,” I teased, turning to face Destiny, the colorful cross-dresser who’d had his eye on Derek for months. Cameo and I found the situation hilarious, but Derek avoided him at all costs. Destiny was harmless, and definitely not shy about checking out the “merchandise,” as he called it.
“Didn’t y’all hear me calling you?” Destiny drawled, not the slightest bit out of breath. Unlike the three of us, who were sucking air like we had been chased by a pack of wolves.
“Sorry, Destiny, we’re late for a party and didn’t hear you.” Cameo lied smoothly as Derek wedged himself behind us.
“Oh, I like to party,” Destiny cooed, eyeing Derek meaningfully.
I nearly laughed when I heard Derek gulp behind me. “Sorry, it’s only for MSC students,” I answered, stepping in
before Derek started hyperventilating.
“I understand, honey darlin’. Maybe we can have our own party sometime. You know I’m free anytime, and y’all are always welcome.”
This time Derek blanched, looking like he could pass out.
“Sure, Destiny, but we better head out.”
“Y’all have fun, and, Derek, don’t you be a stranger,” he said, throwing a sizzling look Derek’s way.
Cameo and I barely made it outside before we dissolved in a fit of giggles.
“Not funny,” Derek complained, looking green in the face.
“Maybe you should take him up on it. I bet Destiny could teach you things you never knew you were missing,” I pointed out.
“Oh God, I just threw up a little,” he said.
“Come on, don’t be a prude. What’s wrong with a little variety?” I continued, grinning at Cameo, who was laughing so hard she was holding her side.
Derek held up his hand. “Don’t say another word.”
“I’m just saying you never know,” I teased.
“And I don’t want to know, thank you.”
We continued to mess with poor Derek as we drove to the party. The frat house was less than a mile away, but there was a definite nip in the air, finally providing relief from the unseasonably warm temperatures we had been experiencing this fall. The heat in Derek’s truck barely had time to warm up before we got there. Stepping from the vehicle, Cameo stood shivering beside me while we waited for Derek, who was primping in the mirror. Finally satisfied with his appearance, he climbed from the truck and put an arm around Cameo to keep her warm.
Sigma Pi was already thumping when we arrived. I’d never seen so many people crammed into one house in my life. Derek darted away when his name was called by a couple of buddies, leaving Cameo and me to push our way through the crowd, looking for her current fling, who happened to be a fraternity brother.
“He’s over there,” I said, spotting him first. “Is that a pledge he’s walking?” I added, laughing at the leash that was hooked to a collar around the pledge’s neck. The poor dope was dressed in nothing but a Speedo with a dog tail attached at the ass. His nose was painted black, and he was wearing a set of dog ears.
“They all are,” Cameo said, pointing to a couple of other guys walking their own pledges.
“That’s classic. I want to walk a dog too.”
“I’m sure Chad will share,” she said, throwing herself into his arms. Her lips met his as he wrapped his arms around her. He easily lifted her slender five-foot frame off the ground.
After a moment, they broke apart. “Share what?” Chad asked, looking at me appraisingly. “I’m always willing to share,” he added, winking outrageously. “There’s plenty of me to go around.”
“Oh no, if only we’d known. Cameo and I already got it on before we headed out tonight. We didn’t realize you’d want to join in,” I said, innocently brushing a finger across Cameo’s bottom lip. Her eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Whatever, evil twins,” Chad muttered, adjusting himself.
We both burst out laughing. Guys were so easy. If I had a drink for every time Cameo and I were propositioned for a threesome, I’d be an alcoholic by now.
“You know you love it,” Cameo cooed at him.
“Please, I was just kidding,” he answered.
“That’s too bad. We weren’t,” Cameo said, stroking his chest.
Chad’s eyes widened like he’d won the lottery. “Really?”
Cameo and I laughed again, making the pledge at his feet snicker.
“Evil, just plain evil,” Chad complained, adjusting himself again.
“Nice dog,” Cameo said, patting the pledge on the head.
“You like my bitch?” Chad asked, pulling on the leash so the pledge’s head lifted. Cameo and I both snickered when his tongue lolled to the side. Pledge week was always better when the pledges went with the flow. For the most part, MSC was pretty tame when it came to hazing. We’d all heard the horror stories about fraternities using feces or urine in their pledge rituals. The most you were going to see here was some harmless streaking or crazy antics like jumping off the roof gripping a mattress. That really couldn’t be counted as hazing since all the frat brothers had done it at one point or another. Hell, even I had tried it for the rush.
I scratched the pledge’s head at my feet, patting him like a dog. “Where can I get a bitch of my own?”
My question went unanswered since Chad and Cameo were currently playing tonsil hockey.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture of the pledge on a leash so I could post it. “Good luck with that,” I said to the freshman, who didn’t look all that thrilled at being strapped to a make-out fest. Leaving them behind to suck each other’s faces off, I decided now was as good a time as any to scope out the rest of the party. Snagging a beer from a nearby cooler, I made a circuit around the room, stopping to chat every few seconds.
“Hey, girl, I was wondering when you’d show,” our friend Melissa greeted me.
“Hey, Mel. We just got here a few minutes ago. I love the dog theme,” I said. “Steve’s idea?”
She nodded. Steve was head of the Sigma Pi fraternity. He and Melissa had been dating since freshman year, and they pretty much dictated most of the social events at MSC. Melissa’s sorority was notorious for pranking Sigma Pi, which made her my kind of girl.
“Yeah, the other brothers voted on ideas, and this was one of the winners. You should have heard some of the other suggestions—downright disgusting.”
“Like what?” I was pretty confident there was nothing that would shock me.
“Dipshit John suggested all the pledges eat vanilla pudding. He said they’d wait until they were almost done and then tell them they all put their jizz in it.”
“That’s just wrong,” I said, shaking my head.
“It’s effing sick. I don’t care if it is a joke. You know John, though. He can be such an asshole.”
I nodded, having experienced it firsthand. I made the colossal mistake of agreeing to a date with John last spring. He was a total flirt who believed women should be flattered by his ogling and lame-ass comments. It only took one date to realize he was a shit.
“What else do Steve and the guys have up their sleeves?” I asked, dying to know what their grand finale would be this year. Last year their master plan fizzled out when security busted them for breaking into the library. The pledges were supposed to erect thrones for the fraternity brothers out of books. They were going to record it and post it on YouTube.
Melissa’s eyes narrowed slightly, seeing through my ploy. “I’m not that easy. You have to wait just like everyone else.”
“Come on, I’m not going to tell anyone.”
She hesitated for a moment, so I went for the kill. “I’ll give you total credit when I post the pictures on Instagram,” I said, coaxing her. I could see she was close to caving. My Instagram account had become legendary around campus. I’d been posting pictures before Instagram was considered cool. Word of mouth spread and now I had more than ten thousand followers. People say I have a gift for snarky taglines and hashtags. Not to mention the pictures of pranks that most of the time were initiated by me, not to toot my own horn any further.
“Total credit?” she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“Total credit. Steve won’t even be a blip on the radar.” I knew that’s what she was going for. Mel and Steve were tight, but they were always trying to one-up each other. I guess that’s what you got when you paired two alpha dogs together. Someone always had to win. I really couldn’t care less about their competition. I just wanted to know what the frat house had planned.
She looked around one last time before answering. “Okay, but not a word to anyone. I’ll have to seriously cut you off if it gets back to Steve. He made me swear not to tell anyone.”
I looked at her blandly. Everyone knew I wasn’t a snitch.
“They’re going to make t
he pledges raft down one of the tamer runs on Penobscot River,” she said in a hushed tone, waiting for me to be impressed.
I waited for her to continue. I knew there had to be more.
She sighed after a moment, knowing she’d have to dish all the goods. “Fine, but not a word. They’re making them do it buck naked.”
“Nice,” I said, grinning broadly as we fist-bumped.
“Yeah, they want to do it as a race. They’ll dump the guys and their rafts at the starting point, and the first five who make it back will become brothers. The others will be shit out of luck.”
“That’s effing brilliant. Are they doing it in the morning?”
“Hell no, that’s the brilliant part. They’re doing it tonight. Half the fun will be making them fumble through the dark.”
“That’ll suck for taking pictures.”
“You can take a picture of the guys as they load into the rafts.”
“That works. The chilly weather ought to make for some interesting pictures. I heard shrinkage is not just a myth,” I said, grinning wickedly at her.
“Trust me, it’s not. Steve talked me into skinny-dipping last spring at the lake near my parents’ house. It was butt-ass cold and Steve’s penis looked like a turtle head scared to peek out of its shell. I was scared it was permanently damaged and I was going to have to turn it in for a new model.” She winked at me.
“Can’t blame you there. A broken penis is a no-fun penis.”
“Totes,” she said, grinning.
“When are they going out?”
“Ten, I think. Whoops, I think Steve is looking for me,” she said, glancing at her ringing cell phone. “Remember, not a word until they head out, okay?” She placed her hand on my shoulder to emphasize her point before leaving to join her man.