by Ginger Scott
“When’s your test?” she asks with a sigh.
“Monday. Early,” I say, holding her gaze. Goddamn does she have nice eyes. They’re blue. Ocean blue. I notice them every time she comes into the store.
After a few long seconds, she wads my papers up in her hands and marches to the trashcan a few feet away, tossing my craft project away. She drags an extra chair over to the opposite side of the coffee table from me, then pauses, looking at me again while she chews at the inside of her lip. I can actually see her tongue pushing on the inside of her mouth like she’s working really hard to avoid calling me something. Her eyes flutter in this annoyed blink-like movement, and to most people, it’s probably irritating, but it makes me smirk. Her mannerisms are familiar somehow.
She holds up a finger before walking quickly back to the study room she was sitting in. When she comes back, she’s carrying all of her belongings—her bag not fully zipped, like she probably just tossed everything in quickly. She drops everything next to the chair, then sits in it and slides forward until her knees touch the table. She folds her legs up in her chair, then leans forward to grab my book, flipping it around so she can look at it. Her shirt is navy blue—I know that much—but I can’t tell you if it has a pattern on it, a scoop-neck or whatever else comes on a chick’s shirt. I can tell you that it’s loose enough to drape forward when she leans down, and I can tell you that I now love pink bras.
I’m too slow to pull my eyes back, and she catches me staring. Even though her eyes look angry, her mouth curls the tiniest bit on one side, and I know she’s not angry at all that she caught me looking. If she were angry, she’d have pulled her shirt up and quit leaning over; Paige did neither.
“Is it a verbal or a written exam?” she asks, and I shake my head to pay attention just like Bugs Bunny does when Lola Bunny shows up and makes him all jelly-brained.
“Both,” I say, and catch her wince a little. She’s heard my verbal.
“How long do you have tonight?” she asks.
“How long do you need?” I’m already prepping myself for the text I’m about to send Casey that I’m not coming. This isn’t about the pink bra. Well, okay, maybe it’s a little about the pink bra. But honestly, if Paige can help me pass my Spanish final, I’ll forgo eating and sleeping for twenty-four hours if I have to.
“Judging from the way you just butchered comida? I’d say we’re going to be here for a while.” I get caught up in her lips for a few seconds when the word literally falls from them, sounding like I’m sure it’s supposed to. It’s both the hottest and most amazing thing I’ve witnessed in a while—that, or I’m desperate—for tutoring and a woman.
“Give me a second,” I say, pulling my phone out and firing off the text to Casey that I won’t be able to make it.
He types back.
CASEY: You’re a dick. What am I supposed to do now?
ME: Sorry. Try the computer commons. They have lots of geeks there.
CASEY: They’re not as geeky as you.
ME: You can’t sweet-talk me. I’m sorry. Something important came up.
CASEY: You owe me beer.
ME: When don’t I?
Casey sends me one final text, an icon of a middle finger. I toss my phone down to my backpack, smirking, and lean forward, my elbows on my knees, ready for Paige to work a miracle.
“I’m all yours,” I say, and she looks at me the same way she did when I stared at her boobs—eyes hazed, but mouth curled. This girl is an enigma.
* * *
I feel a little guilty. I’ve checked Paige out; I even look forward to her coming in to pick up orders, pulling the tickets before Sheila has a chance to go through them, just to make sure hers are in my pile. I do it because I think she’s cute. But—and I’m an asshole for assuming—I never thought she was smart. I’ve been sitting on the floor for the last two hours, my legs stretched out under the coffee table while she grills me on Spanish vocabulary, forcing the words into my head, and somehow pulling them from my mouth correctly. I’m going to pass my Spanish final, and Paige is a genius.
I can tell she’s sleepy. She keeps standing and stretching, yawning with her arms over her head. We’ve got a few empty energy drink cans on the table between us, and I feel wired enough to run home. I kind of don’t think Paige would make it past the fountain out in front of the library before curling up and dreaming.
“You’re tired. I think I’ve got this now. Let’s call it a night,” I say, moving to close the book and gather my notes.
“No, it’s okay. I’m not that tired, and we still need to go over your verbs again.” She’s shuffling through papers in front of me, searching for the one she wrote the verbs on. I list off the verbs in order, my pronunciation as close to perfect as I’m going to get.
“See, I think I’m good,” I say. Paige lets out a big breath, her eyes grazing over the pile of papers in front of her before flicking them up to meet mine. There’s the blue.
“You’re…sure?” She twists one corner of her lip up, scrunching her right eye.
“Honestly, if I would have been here alone all night, no…I wouldn’t have been sure. But you are like a Jedi master,” I say, and she rolls her eyes, standing to pack her things, pulling a thick sweatshirt out from her bag.
“Boys and Star Wars. I don’t get it,” she says.
“Ohhhhh, do not bag on Star Wars. The force is not to be reckoned with. It’s strong with you,” I say, feeling the twitch in my lips as I try not to laugh at the way she’s looking at me.
“Wow. You just went all convention there on me, didn’t ya?” she says, waving her hand from side to side.
“I did,” I laugh, zipping up the last of my things and pulling my bag over my shoulders. She walks next to me all the way to the door, and I can’t help but think how much nicer she is when that asshat she’s dating isn’t around. I’m about to bring him up, when she speaks, stopping me.
“You don’t have figurines, do you? Please tell me you don’t have figurines,” she says, and I keep my eyes forward. I may have one…or three or four. I don’t remember. They’re in a box in Mom’s closet. But only because I asked her to hang onto them for safekeeping, and…
“Ohhhh my god! You have dolls! Like, figurines! You should meet my sister’s boyfriend. You two would so get along. He has a thing for teddy bears,” she’s talking fast, and there’s this smile on her face that I’ve never seen on her before. “What?” she asks, pausing in the middle of her make-fun-of-Houston-fest.
“Nothing, I just noticed…” I start, but then rethink where I’m going with this. Ah, what the hell. “I just noticed you have a nice smile. You don’t show that one a lot. You should; it’s….” I stop before the word pretty slips out, but that’s what I’m thinking. Paige’s smile is pretty.
“What do you know?” she says back, the smile gone and her defensive tone right back where I’ve grown used to it. I nod and make a mental note to add another second to my think-before-talking rule. “It’s not like you’ve seen me a lot, or even know me very well. You work at the deli counter. Whatever.”
I’ve never had my employment thrown back in my face quite like that, and I know I should be offended, but her backlash only makes me laugh.
“What?” she asks, still letting her anger rule her demeanor.
“You,” I say, and she furrows her brow, her eyes zeroing in on me as we near the parking lot. “That’s all I’ve got. Just…you. You’re…I don’t know. You.”
I click twice to unlock my car, then scan the parking lot looking for hers, but soon realize she didn’t drive here. She walked. And it’s dark outside, the sidewalks empty.
“You want a ride home?” I ask.
“I have a boyfriend!” She almost yells it at me, and I work hard, pushing my lips together with every bit of control I have as I try not to laugh.
“Wow,” I mouth. I can see her start to feel embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That’s…I know. I’ve met him, remember?”
She nods, rolling her eyes a little. She’s covering, and I’m going to let her.
“I just meant…it’s late. I don’t like the idea of you walking anywhere far—alone,” I say, pushing the passenger door a little wider.
“It’s not far,” she says, her face looking off to the side, her lips hanging open, her breath held along with her thoughts. “But…a ride would be nice. I’m just at the Delta House, on Main.”
“Easy enough. I’ll drop you off,” I say, pushing the door all the way open now. She slides in, her bag and purse on her lap. My car has one of those automatic seatbelts; it’s old, and I’m pretty sure it’s been recalled. Paige lets it fold over her before unraveling it from her purse and bag. Watching her through the closed door makes me smile. She catches me looking and shrugs her shoulders; I jog over to my side, toss my bag in the back, and start the engine.
“Your seatbelts are stupid,” she says, her lame insult catching that nerve in my mouth, making me smile again. It’s funny that those words come out of the same mouth that speaks perfect Spanish.
“So, why do you know Spanish so well?” I ask, doing my best to make small talk during the short ride.
“My dad speaks it. He’s a lawyer, and he’s done a lot of foreign contracts. He was learning the language when my sister and I were kids. So, for a year, he made our house completely bilingual. It made Spanish in high school a piece of cake. I tested out for full credit here,” she says.
“That’s so cool. I would give anything to have that luxury. I think the only thing I could test out of would be wrestling. And that’s not going to happen,” I say. Her eyes widen when I mention wrestling, and I answer the question before she asks. “I’m not on the team or anything. I had a chance…to wrestle in college. But, it just wasn’t the right fit. I want to focus on computer science and programming, and sports take up too much time.”
Her enthusiasm wilts so fast, I’d swear she punched me if I didn’t know there was no way she could get her arm out from that pile of stuff in her lap.
“You have a sister?” I ask. She was already looking out her window when I spoke, but something makes her focus away from me even more.
“I do,” she says, her voice softer. “We’re twins.”
“Wow. Twins. Did you do that thing in grade school where you switch places with each other and trick your teachers?” I ask, and she pulls her things in close to her body, bracing her hand on the door.
“It’s right there. You can just drop me out front,” she says, looking at the brightly-lit brick house, the bushes out front cut in perfect squares, outlining a long, green lawn. I slow as we approach the front walkway. She smiles with a closed mouth as she turns to face me. “Cass and I are fraternal. That wouldn’t work, we’re too…different.”
She reaches for the handle, pushing the door open and stepping out quickly. She turns on her heels at the curb, her hand stretched out, but barely touching the door.
“Thanks for the crash course,” I say, realizing the knots in my stomach from the anxiety over my test are gone—totally gone.
“Thanks for all the sandwiches,” she says, flinging my door closed and walking away. I indulge in watching the sway of her ass, and even though she was doing her best to insult me just then, she lifted the back of her shirt just now, and she knows exactly what my eyes are looking.
After a few seconds of being a perv, I push the car into drive and head home, flipping the lights off before I hit the driveway so I don’t wake up the house. I tiptoe inside, turn the locks, and climb the stairs—smiling at the small light I still see spilling from underneath my mother’s door. All these years, and she still has to wait up for me to make sure I made it home safely.
I’d love to shower, get the smell of salami out from my hair and fingernails, but I’m too tired. It’s almost midnight, on a Saturday. I haven’t been out this late for anything other than work in months. And I can’t say it was for a party or a date. No, it was for studying. Maybe I am one of those convention dorks. I rub my eyes and pull my pants and shirt off, tossing them by my door in the pile that I secretly love my mother picks up for me every day. I crawl on my hands and knees to the pillow, letting my face collapse into the coolness, and fall asleep with Paige’s voice rolling R’s in my head.
Chapter 2
Paige
When nothing happened Sunday, I chalked it up to the weekend. But then Monday came and went. And Tuesday, too. The anticipation of confrontation was almost worse than shit actually hitting the fan.
I’m so consumed with finding Chandra’s name on the campus news website’s gossip page, I almost miss it—almost.
ASSOCIATE FACULTY MEMBER FILES LAWSUIT AGAINST SCHOOL FOR WRONGFUL TERMINATION
The headline couldn’t be more wrong, and the story is total bullshit. The home page of the news site is dedicated to my sister’s attacker. I scan it quickly, my heart racing that Cass’s name might be in there.
It’s not.
Paul Cotterman is my sister’s physics professor. He got a little touchy-feely during a tutoring session a few weeks ago, so Cass kneed him in the nuts and punched him in the temple.
Paul Cotterman is also Chandra’s ex—of course he is. Two gross people dating; what’s more perfect than that? I can’t believe they broke up.
I read the story all the way through, laughing out loud by the end over how innocent the quotes make him sound.
“Oh my god, did you read that? Isn’t that guy the one Chandra dated? I feel so bad for him,” says Ashley, a freshman who joined Delta when I did. Keeping my back to her, I let her glance over my shoulder at my laptop. I know if I turn around, I’m going to tell her to get the fuck out of my room, but I’m going to need allies when Chandra’s story comes out.
“Yeah, that’s the guy. But…I don’t know. I get a real sleazy vibe from him,” I say, my eyes penetrating his name on my screen.
“Huh,” Ashley says. “Not me. I think he’s super hot.”
I twist in my chair, but Ashley’s back is to me as she’s walking out the door—probably a good thing, because my rebuttal was perched on my lips, and it wasn’t nice.
She pauses at the door, and leans into my room with her hand gripping the frame; her head tilts so she’s looking at me upside down, like she’s about to start a back bend. “Delta meeting in ten minutes, by the way,” she smiles, then flips upright and rounds the corner.
My breath comes in slow and hard. It could just be an end-of-the-year thing. There are academic requirements to stay in the house—maybe it’s a grade check or announcement for study sessions through finals.
I close my laptop and slip it into my backpack, along with a few of my books. My classes are all done, and tomorrow is campus study-day. The only thing left is finals. I’m starting to think spending the rest of this semester at the library wouldn’t be a bad idea.
A month ago, I never wanted to leave my room. Now, it feels like a trap. It’s disguised as a place I should love. Looking at it now, I’m starting to think it’s all part of the plan, to lull me into a false sense of comfort until I break.
My room is purple, the furniture white with fancy trim. We all have special doorknobs—that’s sort of a thing they do for the girls who get selected to move in. Every Delta gets to pick a doorknob from the Restoration Hardware catalog. The girls who have roommates have to agree. But I’m alone, so I got to pick my own door décor. My knob is glass, with purple and silver swirls inside, cut like crystal. There’s a matching coat hanger—which I paid for on my own—mounted in the center near the top; I used half a month’s spending allowance.
Cass probably spent her money on granola bars and Gatorade, with lots of change to spare. I bought a hundred-dollar coat hanger. Now, I can’t help but fixate on it, noticing how small it is. The mount is made of iron, but the ball at the end is plastic. I chuckle quietly the more I think of how much it cost.
“Meeting starting,” someone yells from downstairs.
My small fit of laughter fa
des, and my frown feels heavy. I grab my bag, making sure I have my essentials inside—books, music player, phone, keys, purse, gum…yeah, I think that’s it.
The common room is pretty full by the time I get downstairs, so I plop my bag at the base of the steps and take my seat on the bottom stair, another girl standing next to me, leaning on the rail.
Chandra is sitting on the main sofa. That’s her seat—right in the middle cushion. Her jet-black hair shines against the purple velvet of the couch. It’s kind of pretty. Ashley is next to her…in the seat I usually take. A week ago, I think Chandra would have told Ashley to move. Chandra’s best friend, Talia, the vice president of our sorority, is on the other side. I wait for several seconds, just to be sure my instincts are right. In that time, I notice neither of them look up for me. They purposely avoid turning in my direction at all.
This isn’t going to be a meeting; it’s a public hanging. I need to decide if I want to slip my neck into the noose.
“Thank you for coming, ladies. I know we’re all very busy right now,” Chandra starts, and the room quiets faster than it does in any of my survey classes. I’m internally amused; Chandra commands more respect than a professor who won a laureate for helping guide the country through an economic crisis.
“Just a quick meeting; I promise,” she says, gazing over the room, never fully looking in my direction. I’m across from her, nobody in our path. And I can feel the rope slipping over my head.
“Tutoring hours have been posted in the kitchen. Please check to make sure you are taking advantage of any and all help the Delta House provides you. Remember, part of our dues goes toward ensuring academic success. And your success in the Deltas rests partly on your academic performance,” she says, her eyes crossing the room again in a sweep. I wait for her to stop short of me, like she did the last few times. But she doesn’t.
Chandra’s eyes stop right on mine; her lip raises the slightest bit, revealing her inner thrill of catching me. She knows. And I’m having a hard time breathing.