Pretty, Nasty, Lovely

by Rosalind Noonan

  Her eyes shiny with tears, Violet stood tall, holding the candle of truth with one hand and hugging the ritual book to her lace-covered bodice with the other. Her red curls shone, coppery in the candlelight. “The memorial for a dearly departed sister is called the ‘Rose Beyond the Wall’ ceremony. It’s so rare that it’s not in the book, but National sent us a copy. I know that, as ritual keeper, I usually conduct our sacred ceremonies, but tonight I . . . I just can’t. And I say that out of pure love and devotion to Lydia.”

  Really? From what I’d seen, Violet and Lydia had just tolerated each other. But after someone died, plenty of people wanted to jump on the friend bandwagon.

  “So I’ve passed the candle of truth to our president, just for tonight.” With a nod, she stepped back into line.

  Tori’s heels clicked as she went to the altar, placed the candle of truth on a bare spot of tablecloth, and held up a nearly transparent sheet of paper. “Sisters, we are gathered here today to pay tribute to our beloved sister Lydia Drakos. Repeat after me: Dear Lydia, we love you and miss you.”

  “Dear Lydia . . .” We repeated the words in zombie voices. Was any girl in the room feeling this in her heart? I wanted to feel something deep, but it sort of seemed like business as usual.

  Tori continued. “On this sad day, we bow our heads and remember you, Lydia Drakos, the Rose that has passed beyond the wall. Although you have left this side of the wall, the everlasting covenant of Theta Pi remains. Every sister’s allegiance to Theta Pi is eternal, every bond will last a lifetime. . . .”

  As she read on, my thoughts strayed and I suddenly wondered who here had taken the photo from downstairs. Was it the same person in a hoodie who had been on the bridge with Lydia that night? Keeping my head bowed, I scanned the faces around me, looking for . . . I don’t know what. A sinister look?

  Mia and Megan stood holding hands. They weren’t supposed to do that during a ritual, but Violet would probably correct them later. Violet was wiping tears from her eyes, and Courtney’s lips were puckered in that sad puss that she used all the time lately. I’m sure she had no idea how infantile it made her look. Angela, Haley, Defiance, Jemma, Isabel, Chloe, Belle, Suki, and more than a dozen others. Most girls stood with their heads bowed. Their expressions were somber amid the circle of light.

  I wanted to think the best of all these girls, my sisters. Aside from the nursing program, Greek life had been one of the big draws of Merriwether U because I knew that I needed a family that would hold me in their hearts and have my back and share my joys. I thought I had found that in this sisterhood. I hoped I was right.

  “We stand here in memory of you today, Lydia.” Tori addressed the photos on the table as if Lydia were hiding underneath, peeking out from under the tablecloth. “Each of your sisters is holding the flower of Theta Pi, a white rose, which means innocence and purity in the language of flowers.”

  Tori delivered the words smoothly, flawlessly, though I always expected her to stumble on the word purity, as most would consider her far from it. Tori had sex like a guy. She chose her partners based on looks, made them conquests, and bragged about it later. There’d been one or two “boyfriends” in the past year, but they hadn’t stuck around long. Tori managed to find fault with them, and most guys didn’t want to share their girlfriend with the defensive lineup of the university’s football team.

  “In loving respect to Lydia Drakos, we will drape her photo with the roses we hold. This is symbolic of our love and support for Lydia, the Rose Beyond the Wall.” Tori stepped closer to the altar and placed a rose near Lydia’s photo. “Sisters, as you come forward with your rose, take time to think of a message you would like to deliver to Lydia on the other side of the wall.”

  A message to the dead? I kept myself from frowning, swallowing back the cynicism. The language of our rituals was sometimes drawn from Christian texts, but this “beyond the wall” thing seemed a little macabre.

  The air was tense with grief and silent tears. Although the sisterhood had come together in sorrow, we were still quite alone in our individual thoughts. Alone in birth, alone in death.

  When I approached the table and saw the photos of Lydia—photos that made her appear to be contemplative, noble, loyal, and happy—that was the moment when I felt the pang of connection to the imposter in the pictures. Lydia had possessed none of these qualities, but she’d been a good pretender. I knew the girl who’d been a poser. I’d been prodded and manipulated by her, more than once.

  You were mean to me, I thought, and I’m sorry you died. But I’m not sorry I lied to you. I’m not.

  As I extended my rose, a thorn stabbed the pad of my thumb, puncturing the skin. I swallowed back a gasp at the sight of blood. I dropped the rose onto the table and backed away.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Just so we’re clear,” I told Tori, “I’m totally against this. I’ve told the sisters that, more than once, but I’ve been overruled. So here I am.” I plunked the metal cash box on the table in the foyer of Theta House and took a seat in the folding chair. “I’ll handle the door, but I’m not going to pretend this honors Lydia in any way.”

  “Wow, Emma.” Tori placed the Ziploc bag of name tags and pens on the table. “I sense that you’re upset.”

  Even as I was looking up at Tori, a bad angle for most people, she was beautiful, the lines of her jaw regal, her skin smooth with just the right amount of peachy highlights. I stood up again to even the playing field. “You can’t pay tribute to one of our sisters with pancakes and hookups. It’s just wrong.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Tori said sweetly. “You should sign up for a session yourself. Sounds like you could use a good—”

  “Hey, guys!” Isabel interrupted, skipping into the foyer like a five-year-old. It didn’t help that she was swimming in the “Lydia Memorial” T-shirt Violet had ordered for us. “Did you know that we have gluten-free pancakes, too? I’m so psyched.”

  Tori gave a mincing smile. “Somebody’s happy.”

  “For the pancakes,” I said. “But she doesn’t like the memorial thing. Do you, Isabel?”

  “Me? Oh, well . . .” She hesitated to stand up to Tori. “Not really. I mean, I’ll support the sisterhood’s decision, but I think it’s kind of eerie, using Lydia.”

  “To each his own,” Tori said. “I hope you’ve got a lot of fives in that cash box, because there’s going to be a shitload of girls and dudes here with twenty-dollar bills and big hopes. So Haley and Alexa are in handling the griddles in the kitchen, and we’ll have a few girls in the dining room to make sure people clean up their mess. Last time those guys from Theta Tau thought they were cute with that syrup war. That can’t happen again.”

  “I’m not in charge of the dining room,” I said, touching the familiar diamond shape of my Theta Pi pin on my T-shirt. Before I pledged, the only T-shirts in my wardrobe had been plain cotton in black or white, but sororities were big on matching T-shirts or sweatshirts tailored to certain events.

  “Don’t be so spiteful, Emma,” Tori said. “You know those frown lines around your mouth will be etched there forever.”

  I didn’t have frown lines—I knew that much—but Tori had scored her point.

  “I’ve got to make sure the babe cave is set up for the speed daters,” Tori said. “Oh, and encourage the sisters to participate in the dating, at least to get things started. Last year we had a lot more guys than girls.” She strode off, her heels clicking with self-importance as she crossed the tile floors. I never understood how she could stand to wear heels that high.

  “Are you going to chill with me here?” I asked Isabel. “I could use help explaining things to the newbies.”

  “Actually, I was planning to be in on the dating. I’ve never tried it before and it might be cool.”

  “Izzy, this is a random four minutes to plead your case. It’s fodder for a meaningless hookup. You get a lot more information on Tinder or OkCupid.”

  “But Tinder is so c
old. I think everyone gets rated completely on their looks. If you’re not, like, a supermodel, guys swipe left. It’s a dead end for me.”

  “But you’re beautiful,” I insisted. I believed that, but I knew Isabel was hard on herself.

  “I just feel lonely. Like there’s no one there for me.”

  I slung an arm over her shoulder. “You can always talk to me.”

  “I know that, but it’s not the same as being in love.”

  “I know.” When I gave her a squeeze, the fine bones of her shoulder made her seem like a delicate bird in my arms. My heart ached for Isabel. I understood loneliness, but I had learned to suppress all the myths about romantic love, valentines, and soul mates. But her quest was so pure and genuine that I didn’t want to discourage her. I just prayed that her heart didn’t get broken.

  “Anyway, Tinder hasn’t worked out for me, so why not try this? I’ll have time to do the first session before my shift downstairs.” She leaned over the sign-up sheet and wrote her name and cell phone number in the girls’ column. “Here’s the fifteen dollars.”

  “Exact change. So you planned this.”

  “Maybe. Do I need to do anything else?”

  “Make yourself a name tag. You’ll be in the first group. Other people should start arriving in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. I promised Patti I’d help with the cleanup, so the first group is perfect.” Her dark eyes seemed bright and round as quarters as she took a chair next to me. “I just saw Defiance in the kitchen, and she told me something special is going to happen tonight. Something about the November Super Moon in Virgo that stands for beginnings.”

  “I thought you weren’t into New Age stuff.”

  “I am when it’s positive.”

  “Aw.”

  “I know. I’m adorable,” she said.

  “Who could resist you?”

  We made a few last-minute adjustments, moving the table farther from the door and posting signs for PANCAKES in the dining room and SPEED DATING downstairs. That was when I noticed that the photo that had been removed from the wall was now returned.

  “So the picture’s back. Anyone know who returned it?” I asked, moving closer to the group portrait.

  “Nobody’s mentioned it,” Isabel said.

  It wasn’t hard to find our senior girls in the photo. Tori, Violet, India, Haley . . . and there was Lydia, smiling and composed, her chin lifted to an unknown future. I squinted. The portrait seemed kind of washed out and faded, but maybe it had always been that way.

  My attention was drawn away when the front door opened and three guys came stumbling in like baby bucks finding their footing. Tall and lanky, as if their bodies had been stretched out. Obviously underclassmen, probably athletes.

  “Hey, guys?” Isabel chirped. “Are you here for speed dating or pancakes or both?”

  One guy with dark hair and a triangular patch on his chin opened his eyes wide. “We want it all!”

  I went over to the table to get them set up. “That’s fifteen dollars for the first session of speed dating, and five for unlimited pancakes.”

  As they were paying, a handful of girls came in bringing a cloud of one of those sweet perfumes that smells like cake batter. Giggly and awkward and overly made-up. Moving like a swarm of bees, they bumped into the guys and backed up and lined up. Definite signs of pre-party.

  “So how does this work?” one girl asked. “The speed dating.”

  “They’ll go over it all downstairs,” I said, “but basically, we’ll do twenty people at a time. Ten girls and ten guys.”

  I noticed that the guys were also listening intently. Apparently, their first time, too. “The ten women will be sitting down,” I said, “and each guy will go sit with one, exchange first names, and talk till the bell rings. You get four minutes. When the bell rings, you write either yes or no next to the person’s name on your paper, and you move on. Four minutes with the next girl, and the next. Then keep going until you get through all ten.”

  “So if we give a girl a yes, we leave with them?” asked one of the tall guys. He had a crew cut and pale gray eyes, a fine profile that was overwhelmed by his oversized Merriwether hoodie.

  “Not quite,” I said. Good thing this presumptuous guy was on the shy side. “You need to give every girl a chance, and don’t ask personal information beyond first names. Well, not too much. We’ll keep track of everyone’s contact info,” I said. “Besides, each girl is also giving you a yes or no after you talk. When your session is over, we’ll compile the stats. If we see that two people both wrote yes, we’ll text that couple with the name and contact info of the other person.”

  There was excitement in the air, as if people were going on to a TV game show. I didn’t mind that, though it still annoyed me to think of Lydia being connected to these festivities.

  “If you’re speed dating, make sure you get a name tag,” Isabel said as a line began to form behind the group of girls.

  For the next half hour, I kept busy with the steady flow of students at the door, some of whom I knew from classes or Greek events. There was only one student on campus that I wanted to avoid, but I didn’t think Sam would have the nerve to come to Theta House after what had happened. Sam had broken my heart and stomped on it, and it was my sisters who had helped me piece my soul back together.

  Our first session had begun and our second session was nearly sold out when some Omega Phi brothers appeared in the queue. With mixed emotions I spied Rory MacFarlane among his friends. I was glad to see him, but disappointed that he was into the speed-dating thing.

  “Hey. How’s it going, Emma?” His eyes caught mine with a heavy look.

  I felt glad that he remembered me, but that was Rory. Everyone liked him because he had mad skills on a snowboard but was still genuine and down-to-earth.

  His friends were doing the speed dating, but Rory wanted pancakes only.

  “So you’re the hungry one,” I teased.

  “I came for moral support.” He tapped one of his friends on the arm. A husky guy with a dark beard and thoughtful eyes. “This is Charlie. He wants to talk with you when you have a chance.”

  I didn’t know what to think about that, but I was fairly sure I’d never met Charlie before. “Hi, Charlie. I’m kind of busy now, but I’ll come find you when one of the sisters takes over for me.”

  “Cool.” Charlie nodded and moved down the line with his friends, while Rory swung around the table and took the empty seat beside me.

  “Okay if I sit here? I’m not up for pancakes just yet.”

  He smelled of citrus and maybe woodsmoke, that slight hint of fragrance that made you want to move closer and breathe deeply. He wasn’t wearing the knit cap, so I could take in the full effect of his poster-boy good looks. His hair was shiny, probably freshly shampooed. Reason for that great smell. “Sure. You can play bouncer if someone gets crazy.”

  “Not me.” He held his hand up. “I’m all: Make love not war.”

  I kept my focus on the next person in line, trying not to be rattled that Rory was sitting beside me talking about making love. Of course it was an expression, I knew that, but still, it was cool. His presence kept me on alert as I made change and explained the dating process to the new arrivals.

  “What’s up with your friend?” I asked Rory as I waited for two girls to fill out their name tags. “What’s his name again?”

  “Charlie Bernstein. It’s about Lydia. He feels really bad. Wants to talk to someone who knew her.”

  I was about to say that I wasn’t that close with her but stopped myself. It was time to own the fact that I’d had a relationship with Lydia, even if it was a bit twisted.

  We were starting to get a lot of people who wanted pancakes only—people who’d gotten baked on weed and wanted to burrow into a snack. From the dining room came the buzz of conversation and laughter, while the living room housed people waiting for the next session. They generally separated into packs by gender, talking quietly as they
checked each other out across the room. It was a high school dance with a twist.

  When I got the line down for the time being, I went into the dining room to snag somebody. I found Angela, wiping her hands on a damp rag. “People can be so disgusting,” she said.

  “Cover for me at the door for a few minutes?”

  “Yes. Please,” she said, tossing the rag onto the sideboard.

  Rory and I plucked Charlie from the other Omega Phis and stepped out to the front yard, where the lights and flames of the memorial to Lydia still glowed at the center of the lawn. My gaze combed the street for a lone detective, waiting and watching, but aside from a male jogger who was fixing his shoe, no one was traveling alone. If there was a cop out there, he or she was probably sitting in one of the cars parked on the other side of the street. I turned away from the street, which gave me a chance to watch the steady stream of people heading into Theta House.

  “So what’s up, guys?”

  Rory clapped a hand on his friend’s back. “Charlie wanted to talk to you about Lydia.”

  When I turned to Charlie, the color seemed to drain from his face. “Wow. This is so awkward, but I’m really sorry.” He struggled over the words.

  I looked away. “Thanks. We’re still feeling it.”

  “I feel really bad because things weren’t completely right between Lydia and me. We went to the spring formal last year and . . .” He patted the breast pockets of his plaid flannel shirt, then dug one hand into a pocket of his jeans. “I have this for you. I was supposed to give it to Lydia, but that never happened. I’m really sick about it. I mean, she told me she could wait till I got it together, but . . .”

  Trying to make sense of it, I watched as he pulled out a wad of cash.

  “I was hoping you would take this,” he said. “Get it to her parents or . . . maybe sorority dues or something?”

  “Lydia loaned you money?”

  “Not exactly a loan,” he said, turning to Rory. “I just owed her this.”

  “For what?”

  He squeezed the curled bills in his hands. “It’s embarrassing. I would have paid her right away, but I didn’t have the money. I work the desk in Pittock Hall. Night security on weekends. But part of that goes to my room and board.”