Greek: Best Frenemies

by Marsha Warner

  “We’re still working on the lever for direction,” Dale said. “But it does rock and sock. And not, like, overly hard.”

  “I’m so relieved,” Casey said and rolled her eyes.

  chapter seven

  The Coffee Farm was the one coffee shop open bright and early, for all of the premeds and engineers and bio majors foolish enough to take 8:00 a.m. classes and the athletes up for 6:00 a.m. track runs and swim practice. That didn’t mean that Ashleigh and Casey were there at eight, or at nine. But 10:00 a.m., for them, was a morning-bird hour. Or possibly a very late night. The point is, they were there, away from the house and its perpetual craziness and the rejected posters and signs they had to step over to get down the stairs. Rebecca mentioned it was a fire hazard and could cause the house to burn down, before making her merry way to the gym.

  “Do you actually think Cappie’s going to get here before noon?” Ashleigh was already done with her first cup of coffee. The Coffee Farm was smart enough not to have a “bottomless cup” policy. Or breakable cups. Ashleigh still had her doubts about Cappie, not wanting to see Casey’s heart broken again as it was when he dumped her freshman year and when he almost got together with her and then almost sort of dumped her sophomore year, or when he abandoned her after she proclaimed her love for him at the beginning of senior year.

  Casey was thankful for Ashleigh’s concern, mostly, but whatever Cappie lacked in stability, he made up for in his genuine feelings for her. For the most part. “He’s been acting weirdly responsible lately. He even cleaned his room.”

  “He cleaned his room?”

  “He masked the typical Cappie odors with a refreshing chemical lemon scent. Not from a candle. From one of those automated pumps.”

  “Wow. Drop another hint and I think he’s a step away from a Roomba.”

  “I know! Although those robots creep me out.”

  “Me, too.” Ashleigh was chipper, but that was because of the coffee. Or, her natural chipperness was enhanced by the coffee. “What if they go somewhere and stop whirring because they’re in silent mode and you don’t know where they are? If the machines ever rise against us, I don’t want to say I was captured by a Roomba. Or just cornered by one.” She looked around for what seemed like the eight-hundredth time. “Why did we invite Cappie? Correction, why did you invite Cappie?”

  “Because he’s my boyfriend and we share things and he knows Rebecca. And has known her. In the biblical sense.” There was no reason not to say it. Actually, there were plenty of reasons not to say it, but there was no reason to deny it, as it lasted almost a semester. But saying things out loud made Casey feel better. She was an expressive person. “And I have to talk to someone who’s not a screaming pledge about this.”

  “I have to admit, I’ve never heard Cappie scream.”

  “I have. It’s not shrieky. He’s not one of those guys who screams like a girl. That’s a deal breaker with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I grew up with Rusty. Enough is enough.” She smiled at Cappie’s arrival. Half an hour late was astoundingly good for him. “Good morning.”

  And he didn’t even seem overly tired, either. He kissed her on the cheek. “Hey you.” He sat down, and it was hard to tell if he’d just rolled out of bed in those clothes, or if he had spent a lot of time dressing and looked as if he rolled of bed in the clothes he carefully put on. That was Cappie. “Ashleigh.”

  “Cappie. Thanks for coming. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “If you’re receptive to hearing about the trials and tribulations of ZBZ,” Casey said.

  “You were inviting me for something else? Thank goodness, I thought this was an intervention.”

  “For what?” Ashleigh had to ask.

  “I don’t know. My lack of ability to do laundry. Video games. Beer before it gives me a beer gut, not so much the addiction thing. But by all means, go ahead with your house’s myriad of adorable problems.”

  “Adorable?” Casey and Ashleigh said at the same time.

  “Jinx,” he said. “And yeah, what’s more adorable than a stockpiling of muffins?” He cleared his voice. “Sorry, please go forward with your very serious problem.”

  “The problem is Rebecca.”

  “Okay, slightly more serious. Or way more serious, depending.”

  “It’s not, like, scandal serious.” Casey took a deep breath. “It’s just Rebecca’s attitude. It’s…hard to deal with.”

  “So, this is the part where I withhold comment—”

  “About the muffins and the cards and the balloons, yes,” Casey replied. “We need to win the sweetheart competition for the house. Which makes it doubly important on her, because when we graduate, she practically will be the house. She’s the most qualified.”

  “And she did go all the way during rush week,” Ashleigh said. “She broke into that zoo for the scavenger hunt. Back when we thought getting arrested for opening a tiger cage was a huge scandal for the house.”

  “Yeah,” Casey said. “The point is, we’ll be gone next semester, and she’ll be the face of ZBZ. Theoretically, as president. But she’s been avoiding everyone and not accepting support, and with the house standing and the other houses putting in really good efforts and the Gamma Psi pity vote—”

  “—even screwing Evan won’t make her sweetheart?” He immediately apologized. “Sorry, Case. You know, you are actually a sweetheart. That’s why you won. But shouldn’t Evan have this all wrapped up anyway?”

  “Evan has his own problems,” Casey said.

  “Yeah, I heard all about them.” His tone indicated that the Omega Chi’s behavior last year—leaving Kappa Tau to the wolves known as the police during a prank so Evan could regain his standing in his own house as president—was not a place for the discussion to wander into.

  “The point is, it’s not guaranteed and I don’t think she cares.”

  “And you still haven’t asked her if she cares.”

  “She won’t even look at me when I talk to her about the competition. I mean, what have I done?” Casey was innocent, or so she thought. The looks on Cappie’s and Ashleigh’s faces indicated that maybe she wasn’t. “Ash? You’re with me on this?”

  “Well, you have been pushing Rebecca for not being excited about this. Rebecca’s never excited. She’s more of a cool cucumber.”

  “And you’re president. You should be pushing for ZBZ—and Rebecca. And in this circumstance, Rebecca is ZBZ.”

  “The burden of a Greek president is truly a great one,” Cappie said, speaking for Ashleigh and maybe himself, but perhaps not so much, or he wouldn’t have agreed to be president of Kappa Tau twice. “I’m sure Ashleigh has plenty of other irritating responsibilities that severely cut into her video-game and beer-pong schedule. Almost to tragic levels. Or she has to put on her cougar-attracting outfit to talk a certain lady in administration out of a fine. Or—”

  “Okay, I get it, your life is tough. The lives of all Greek presidents are tough.”

  “Uh, yeah, minus the cougar-outfit part?” Ashleigh said, shooting a look at Cappie, who found something very interesting about his coffee cup at that precise moment. “Jeez, Case, you were president like, six months ago. Long-term memory a problem much?”

  “Fine, fine. You both have other exciting things on your schedules. Like presidential orders and beer pong,” Casey relented. “I thought about what you’ve said, both of you, and I’m thinking maybe we should let Rebecca step down and Abby step up.”

  “Abby?” Now Ashleigh did shriek. “The pledge? The one I have to keep shooting down when she raises her hand during meetings or they would never get done? As in, I think last Thursday’s meeting would still be going on if I hadn’t called a moratorium on questions asked by Abby, and that was before the sweetheart competition?”

  “She really wants the sweetheart position,” Casey said. “And she is a sweetheart, in her overexuberant way. She’s gone out of her way to help Rebecca, way mor
e than we would ever ask a pledge. She’s running the whole campaign, and not because anyone asked her. Okay, so she is a little ADHD-riddled, but isn’t ZBZ supposed to be for beautiful, excited, gregarious women? Isn’t that what we want the image of the house to be?”

  There was a significant pause before Ashleigh answered. Cappie calmly sipped his coffee, perhaps having the evolutionary sense to stay out of this one as Ashleigh went off like a siren. “How can you possibly say that? That Rebecca, a loyal active who’s stuck with us through every scandal is less deserving of sweetheart than an overeager pledge? Rebecca, who I will point out, Casey, is your Little Sister, and was rightfully nominated just as everyone wanted her to be by the Omegas, doesn’t deserve it because she’s being herself? She may be the strongest presidential candidate, but maybe she doesn’t like politics. Plus there’s all those issues with her father that I can’t even begin to imagine because I have a dad who didn’t make my whole family a disgrace and ruin my childhood and a small portion of my ongoing adulthood by becoming a national scandal. We have normal dads and we had normal childhoods and we didn’t have private jets and parents who weren’t speaking to each other because one of them was screwing interns and it turns out some people who weren’t really interns but part of some prostitution ring, which I don’t know why it’s called a ring anyway, isn’t it just a bunch of prostitutes? What qualifies it as a ring? Who made that decision? And no, Cappie, whatever you’re going to say, don’t stop me. Casey, if I had the childhood Rebecca had, and had to put up with her dad claiming he’s all reformed and wanting her love again, I would be pretty damn cynical and wouldn’t go near politics and campaigns with a ten-foot pole, even if it meant holing myself up in the abstinence dorm and never leaving except to go to class. She’s done way more than her fair share without even considering her background. So even if she doesn’t want sweetheart, she deserves to be a part of this discussion. And why am I even telling you this? Did you take the initiative by asking Rebecca what she wanted? Did you, with your sacred sisterly connection to her, notice that she hasn’t said a word about any of this unless forced, and we all just assumed she was fine with it? If you really cared about Rebecca and not the house—which will be just fine and will not, like, explode if it doesn’t win sweetheart—instead of telling her what to do and think, you would support her. She’s our sister and we’re supposed to support our sisters.”

  Shocked into a stunned silence, Casey looked to Cappie, who was checking his text messages by all appearances, either because the situation was awkward or because he was distracted. Or wanted to be.

  “I’m sorry,” Casey said. “You’re…you’re right. I’ve been a really bad Big Sister. I just…don’t know what to do. Rebecca’s so hard to read. And you’re right—and Cappie was right—I should have asked her.”

  “Sorry, but it had to be said. Also, I shouldn’t have gone for the triple espresso,” Ashleigh said. “Sorry, Cappie.”

  “I’m cool. I mean, in comparison to you guys, definitely. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Ashleigh said.

  Casey was still a little angry at him for not supporting her, but could she really expect him to, after that? She couldn’t even think about Cappie. This was about Rebecca, and they were both right. They had both tried to tell her the same thing, in very different ways, which was that she wasn’t listening to Rebecca. Rebecca, who may have dated not one, but two of Casey’s exes and exchanged a lip-lock with Ashleigh’s ex, but who had stuck by them through every disaster and even gone undercover with the IKIs for the sake of ZBZ. She helped them cover up the fire, keeping the secret better than anyone even if she openly played with Casey’s and Ashleigh’s emotions about it. She was a ZBZ, and she would be one until she died, not until a better offer came along or she got sick of them. If she wasn’t sick of them now, she never would be. She deserved better, especially from Casey. Even if she didn’t want to be sweetheart, she deserved better than being pushed aside for Abby. “I’m sorry for even suggesting Abby. I don’t know what I was thinking. This competition is making everyone crazy…and some of us stupid. Please don’t tell Rebecca.”

  “It’s forgotten. Cappie?”

  “What was I supposed to forget?” It was hard to tell if he was joking or not paying attention. He finally looked up from his phone. “Sorry. Cartwrights. They have a thing about needing to talk to me. Which I sometimes really, really love. I totally do, Casey.”

  “Rusty’s about to spontaneously combust again?” Casey was happy for the change in direction. They all needed it. “Just tell him to take a couple of puffs on his inhaler. But not anything else. Or at least, if he’s puffing on anything else, don’t tell me about it.”

  “Don’t worry. The house has been under watch since the police-car incident,” Cappie said. “Suspicious smells would not be in our best interest, except for the rat that died behind the sink, which we can’t do anything about. Or, I think it’s a rat. It could be a raccoon.”

  “Gross!” Ashleigh said, apparently just as eager for a change in conversation and tone. “The university has an exterminator.”

  “Yeah, and he’s not speaking to us. Prank gone bad, long story. Funny story, actually, but long. And no, Case, I don’t think it’s an asthma thing. The robot project is not going to plan. Huge shocker there.”

  “You’re building robots?” Ashleigh asked.

  “Robots that fight. Or punch each other in the face. But, you know, life-sized. It’s supposed to be the new Vesuvius, and Rusty was hoping they would be ready tomorrow.”

  Ashleigh looked at him. “Shouldn’t you be helping him? I mean, if you weren’t at this. Which we totally appreciate.”

  “Yeah, listening to us moaning about house problems should not be your number-one priority,” Casey said. “Sorry.”

  “I am Boyfriend Man. I go where I am needed and ask no reward for my endeavors,” Cappie said with a deep voice, then returned to his normal one. “Besides, I felt bad for kind of criticizing Casey last night. Thanks for backing me, Ashleigh. Even if it wasn’t your intention. That it happened unintentionally was good.”

  “I was kind of not listening to you enough,” Casey admitted. “So, do you have to get back to Rusty?”

  “He can explode without me for a change,” Cappie said and put his phone away, even if it kept buzzing with new messages. “And his knowledge of Greek philosophy is minimal. Dale’s the real source, but he’s at class.”

  “Greek philosophy?” Ashleigh perked up. “I took it as a freshman! I thought it would look good, as a ZBZ pledge. Turns out they’re not even like, remotely related, except for the letters. But I got an A!”

  “Really?”

  “Socrates was executed for impiety, Plato was called that because he had a big head and platon meant broad and Aristotle wrote that women had fewer teeth than men. And also, they all had beards. What do you need?”

  “Beyond physical descriptions and inaccurate medical research? I need to submit the proposal for a paper, and that’s due in twenty minutes, and the paper’s due on Monday. Not, I would add, because of my notorious procrastinating, but because it’s a last-minute, prevent-me-from-failing paper. What do you know about Aristotle’s opinions on things other than dentistry? Because I might not get far with ‘Aristotle and Robots.’”

  “That’s the name of your paper?” Casey asked.

  “It’s a bit more sophisticated than that, but the TA tends to see through things like this. And also does not award you any points for buying one of those neat plastic folders to hold the paper. Did you know those things cost a dollar-fifty now?” He smiled at Casey rolling her eyes. “Seriously though, I am not the slacker idiot I’m made out to be.”

  “I never said you were an idiot,” Casey replied. “Or thought it. You’re just too good at joking about things that are really important.”

  Ashleigh, it turned out, was eager to help, and Cappie passed her the proposal. This led to a full twenty minutes of conversation, a lot of
which was circular reasoning, but Ashleigh held her own against someone in an advanced philosophy class to a point that Casey actually felt kind of dumb, sitting there and not being helpful. Grammatical errors she could find. Name all of the five elements that existence was composed of according to Aristotle, not so much. Fortunately for Cappie, that was the subject of Ashleigh’s term paper all those semesters ago.

  “The robot is made of earth, arguably, which falls, and water is made of water, which rises, so if you put the robot in water it would sink, because it would go down and the water would go up.”

  “Which is not correct.”

  “Right, because Aristotle didn’t know about gravity. But as far as Aristotle knew, it was correct.”

  They had to wrap in time for Cappie to get to class, at which point Ashleigh was tapped out and also interested in the blueberry muffins that were just put out, so Casey avoided making a comment about muffins and offered to walk Cappie to class.

  “Sorry for talking over your head, if that’s what we were doing,” Cappie said, holding her hand as they walked. It was bright and sunny, as it was every day at CRU, the magical campus of good weather in Ohio. “Assuming you’re not, you know, secretly holding back on me.”

  “When it comes to Greek philosophy, no. And besides, you’ve been talking over my head a lot, but that’s just because I was ducking. To take the metaphor way too far,” Casey said and looked up at him. “I should have listened to you. I don’t even know where this Abby thing came from. She’s just so eager and Rebecca’s so…not. But as you guys have both said, why should I expect her to be? I should know my Little Sister better.”

  “Which you’re learning to do, which is way more important than two-thousand-year-old incorrect assumptions about the behavior of mass in water. That mass being robots, if I can swing it. It sounds smart, but it’s book smart. That’s the easy part of life.”

  “To you, maybe.”