Handpicked

by Dani Oden

  "I know, I appreciate it," I answered, placing my hand on his chest for no reason other than I knew I could. I considered brushing his cheek with my lips, but I didn't have the nerve. Not there, not in front of the other girls. Instead, I doodled on the front of his shirt, drawing an intricate scene of stick figures dancing under music notes.

  Out of nowhere, Tad jumped forward, bumping into me and nearly knocking me over. Right behind him was my closet roommate Tasha, marker posed in hand right where his butt had just been. She giggled nervously.

  "You startled me," he said sheepishly, putting a hand on his lower back. He turned and I saw the beginnings of her phone number on his shirt right below his waist line. Seriously?

  "Sorry," she chirped before skipping away. She shook her head at her group of girls and they turned their attention elsewhere, tracing their hands all over the nearest guys. Some were over precarious places, the cartoony outline of a hand clutching someone's butt cheek, another gripping someone's chest area.

  "This is...a bit much," I said, grimacing.

  Tad looked in the direction I was staring. "They're quite the crowd."

  "They are.”

  "No wonder you've been over here three out of the last four nights," he said.

  "Has it been that often?" I said. "You're kidding."

  "I've been keeping track," he grinned.

  "I haven't been bugging you, have I?"

  "Nope, not at all."

  I laughed, not because it was particularly funny but because I was relieved.

  A taller pledge, a bigger guy who I'd never seen before, wandered into view. His shirt was covered in nothing but multicolored handprints, in all shapes and sizes and going in all different directions. I must have cringed because Tad immediately laced his fingers through mine.

  "Too many hands?" he said.

  "No, it's just...they remind me..." I bit my lip.

  "Want to get out of here?"

  I didn't have a chance to reply before Lindy appeared, grabbing my wrist. She wobbled slightly on her feet and asked, "Did you seen Hannah?"

  "No, she was here? I missed her."

  "For like, a minute. She was visiting Evan."

  "Did you talk to her?"

  "Just for a sec. She said she's staying with her cousin. Get this," Lindy pulled me away from Tad, into a corner. She leaned so close I could smell the liquor on her breath. "She told me the Exec girls got her out of bed to question her last night."

  "What?"

  "I know! After that, she was so done. She finished packing and took off to her cousin’s. And she also told me when she went outside to leave, she felt someone watching her."

  "No way."

  "I know! I have no idea what she was talking about, but she said she wanted us to know."

  "Was it someone from Exec? They were probably looking after her."

  "It didn't sound like it, she seemed freaked out."

  "That's really weird," I said slowly. "And, really creepy."

  "I know. She said it was only for a second, because she had called a cab to take her to her cousin’s and it was already waiting. But she said there was a pretty intense moment.”

  "She was drunk though," I reminded her. "At least she's okay."

  Lindy shrugged. "Seems to be."

  "Is she coming back?"

  "She didn't say," Lindy said, teetering a bit.

  "Did you drink?" I asked her.

  "A little. I was trying to talk to Gina but she wouldn't let me unless I took two shots."

  "You had two shots?"

  "It's cool though, now I'm not thinking about you-know-what in our you-know-where."

  "Do you need me to stay with you?"

  "No, no, hang out with him. And have fun," she said.

  “Are you sure?” I said.

  She gave me a dainty hug, and said directly into my ear, “Positive.” Then, she disappeared into the crowd so quickly I didn't get a chance to stop her. I watched her catch up to the group waiting on the far wall.

  "Is she okay?" Tad came up to my side.

  "I think so," I said. "She took two shots."

  "I don't blame her," he said. "You guys have a lot going on."

  "And she doesn't have someone like you to keep her company," I pointed out.

  "Can I take you upstairs now?" he said, sliding a hand behind my ear and ducking his face toward mine. "I've been waiting ever since the last time you left.

  I let him guide me up the stairs two at a time. Thankfully, the room was completely dark when we arrived, with Evan still down at the exchange. Tad turned on his desk lamp and put a sock over the doorknob.

  Walking smoothly toward me, he pulled his shirt off by the collar. He reached over and lifted first my t-shirt and the tops I had layered underneath. Next, he pushed me down onto his bed, letting me fall through the pale yellow sheets encircling it. Propping himself above me with one hand as the other ran up and down my side and over the cups of my pale pink bra, a boyish grin crept over his lips.

  "You were excited to get up here," I noted.

  "Can you blame me?" he said. He tugged at the waist of my jeans, unzipping them slowly, pulling the fly open to peek. "You match tonight," he commented, running a finger along the soft pink lace. "Is that for me?"

  I felt my cheeks flush, "Maybe."

  "Thank you," he said, before burying his mouth into my neck. He rolled me onto my stomach and expertly kissed a trail down my spine, unhooking my bra when he needed to, stopping just short of the point where my entire body began to tingle.

  He gently nudged me over so I was on my back again, staring up at him with my mouth open to accommodate my heavy breathing. He began kissing down my front the same gentle way he had with my back. The top of his head hovered around my breasts, with his hair mussed from my hands running through it. His eyes, visible when he lifted his head just so far, were closed in concentration. The sight made me warm with desire and affection. He could have asked for anything from me, anything, and I would have willingly obliged.

  The line of kissing stopped when he got to the edge of my panties. He slowly lifted himself back so we were eye to eye, and we kissed in a way I'd never kissed anyone before, a way that was both tender yet aggressive. And though I was laying down, I was lightheaded.

  I reached for the waistband of his jeans, seeing whether or not he wanted me to take them off. He didn't react at first, so I slipped my hand in, running my fingers along him, testing him. Within seconds, I had my answer.

  With our clothes in a puddle on the floor next to his cave, I slept better that night than I did the first night I stayed with him.

  TWENTY-ONE

  When I opened my eyes the next day, Tad was already awake and sitting at his desk in warm-up pants and a gray t-shirt. The morning sun was shining in through their streaky window, lighting up our cozy bed cave.

  "Morning," I said, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back.

  "G'morning," he answered cheerfully. He abandoned his desk chair and crawled back in bed with me.

  I smiled back at him and propped my head up with my hand. "What time is it, do you know?"

  "It's early, it's like eight something."

  "What time did we go to sleep?"

  "Around one, I think."

  "Hmm. Do you have class today?" I asked, tracing an imaginary design on his chest with my free hand.

  "I have a ten-thirty. You?"

  "I have a ten-thirty, too," I said.

  "Do you need to go back to IB first?"

  "Probably a good idea. I don't want to be the kinda girl who goes to class in the clothes she wore out the night before."

  "That's fair. How about I kiss you for a while, then take you to coffee and walk you home?"

  Before I could answer, Evan threw the door open and stumbled in, looking like he spent the night on the front lawn. He reeked of beer and sweat. Clearly, wherever he'd been for the past few hours hadn't been good to him.

  He didn't seem to notice T
ad and I were even in the room. We watched him pull his shower caddy and his towel from his closet and drag himself back down the hall, letting the door slam behind him.

  A beat of silence hung in the air before Tad laughed. "Drunk roommate totally ruined the mood, didn't he?"

  "Sorry," I said. "I could actually smell him from here."

  “Gross,” he sat up and put his feet over the edge of the bed. "I think he’s trying to drown his sorrow over Hannah not being in a sorority anymore.”

  “Makes sense,” I said, recalling how much she shared about his coaching of her rush experience.

  “So, does coffee sound good?"

  "I better not," I said, sitting up next to him. "I should get back to Lindy sooner than later."

  "Can I at least walk you home?"

  “Of course,” I smiled as he kissed my forehead.

  Once I was dressed again, we headed downstairs. In the light of day, the Nu Mu Chi house was completely transformed. The main floor of the fraternity smelled like an entire party exploded. Without the throbbing music and trendy girls in every corner, it seemed more traditional, dated even.

  Outside, we dodged our fellow schoolmates heading toward their early classes. The last time we walked together early in the morning, it was a weekend and hardly anyone was around. Now, there were tons of people making me self-conscious. I expected disapproving looks from them, or catty up-and-down glares from the other girls, but no one seemed to care. They didn’t even seem to notice my chilly toes exposed in his flip-flops which were at least four sizes too big for me.

  “Can I ask you something?" Tad asked as he led me down the sidewalk.

  "What's that?" I replied.

  "I was just wondering if I can take you on a proper date one night this week?"

  "A proper date?" I turned to him, and was floored to see he was actually blushing. I smiled and hooked my arm through his. "Sounds great."

  "Yeah? We can go somewhere outside of my room."

  "What night do you have in mind?"

  "What's today, Wednesday? I have a paper due Friday that I haven't started yet, so probably Friday night is best."

  "And Friday's a real date night," I said. "So this is a big deal."

  We brainstormed ideas for what we could do on our date, which distracted me until we got back to my block. I was laughing about his claim that roller-skating would be a great idea, so I didn't notice the commotion on the front steps of Iota Beta.

  "What's going on at your house?" he asked, looking off in the distance.

  We slowed down our pace, as if it would help us see better. Two people, a guy and a girl, were standing on our front steps facing the house. The girl was gesturing wildly all around. She wore jeans, tennis shoes, a shabby wool coat, and a beanie pulled tight over her fluffy hair. The guy was standing more still, in a baseball hat, a long-sleeved shirt, a fleece vest and cargo pants, and he was holding his hands up to his face.

  Four or five girls from the house, I couldn't tell who from that far down the block, were lined up on the top step like they were trying to block the entrance. As we got closer, we could see the girl was holding something shiny that flopped around with her crazy movements, while the guy actually had something in his hands. He was turning it back and forth, angling it in all different directions.

  "Is that a camera?" Tad peered at them.

  "Oh my gosh," I trotted down the sidewalk toward the house.

  From the edge of the lawn, we could see that the four girls who were lined up at the front were all upperclassmen, two from the Exec Board (Danielle and Tammy) and two who weren't. The girl on the steps was adamantly trying to get them to do something, let her inside I think, while the Iota Betas were refusing. The photographer was capturing the entire thing.

  Tad and I stood watching as the confrontation unfolded. "Should we do something?" he whispered.

  "Like what?" I asked.

  "Help them?"

  "Sure, but how?" I said. Before I came up with a plan, Sister President came out of the front door. I'm guessing someone went and got her in the middle of her shower since her hair was in a towel, and she wore only jeans and a t-shirt, without shoes or socks. She calmly spoke to the girl, never going so far as even narrowing her eyes or raising her voice. The line of upperclassmen stepped back, letting her steer whatever conversation was happening. After a minute or so of quiet talking, she gingerly walked barefoot down from the front steps, putting her hands on the girl's and guy's shoulders and leading them away from the house. The girl jerked away petulantly.

  "Don't you want to comment?" the frizzy-haired girl was saying as they got close to us.

  "Nope," Sister President said simply.

  "My mother and my grandmother would be ashamed of you," the girl said angrily, which struck me as oddly familiar.

  I hadn't recognized her from the back, but when she mentioned the other women in her family, I could place her. It was the reporter girl from my English Comp class who commented on my IB shirt on the first day, and who’d been at the NMX party the week before.

  "This is a bigger story than just me, you know that, right?" she continued loudly, like she wanted everyone around to hear her. A clump of students had gathered, pausing to watch the scene on their way to class.

  "Oh, I know," Sister President said.

  "This is going to be in more than just the school paper."

  "I’m sure it is."

  "And everyone is going to think the worst. They're going to think you're dark and doing twisted things, you'll see headlines about all your secrets and everything will be out in the open," she said with rising intensity.

  "We'll see," Sister President said calmly.

  She huffed, growing more and more animated. "Not one comment? Not one word? I told you, I have IBs in my family. You can tell me whatever you want. You can tell me something that clears you."

  "I'm not commenting to you," Sister President said, stopping at the end of our walkway until my classmate and her photographer were safely on the sidewalk, off of Iota Beta property.

  The two of them hesitated for a moment. The girl finally scoffed at us, "No comment, right?" She turned indignantly on her heels and stomped off with her photographer trailing after. I watched them walk away, again noticing the plastic-y item she was swinging.

  My jaw dropped when I finally comprehended what it was.

  She had the severed hand in a gallon-sized ziploc bag.

  In the few seconds it took me to say goodbye to Tad and run into the house, the girls from the front step had melted down into pure hysterics. Tears were flowing, hands were clutching faces, and voices were rising.

  "Who was that?"

  "What just happened?"

  "Was she bluffing?"

  "That was a fake hand, right?"

  "Did she seriously just threaten us?"

  "What's going to happen?"

  "Should I call my dad? He's a lawyer."

  "Don't we have alums who are lawyers?"

  "Ladies," Sister President called calmly over the mayhem. "I need to ask all of you to join me in an emergency meeting, right now."

  "What about class...?" someone asked from behind me.

  "Can you go late? Or skip? I'll try to make it quick but I can't make any promises," she said.

  "Where are we meeting?" another girl asked.

  "My room," Sister President said.

  I started to follow the group up the stairs, when Sister President grabbed my shoulder. "Can you get Lindy, please?"

  "Okay," I nodded, and split off from the group. I found my best friend zipping up her backpack, about to head to class. Once I filled her in, she abandoned her bag and followed me down to Sister President's room.

  It was at least twice the size of all the other rooms. Morning light was shining through her lavender gingham curtains onto her bed, which had to have been at least a double. She also had her own dresser, her own desk, her own closet, and her own armchair, all in the same pastel-purple shade.

>   She sat down on her bed, staring at her phone, texting wildly. She’d pulled the towel from her head and was letting her wet hair was saturate her shirt. Every few seconds she scanned the room, counting us. "Can you guys all sit down?" she said at one point.

  We found spots wherever we could. Lindy and I shared the comfy chair. We were squeezed so closely together I could feel her pulse on my shoulder, and I could smell the soap she used to wash her face that morning. Others were scattered around the room, sitting on the floor, on the desk, in the desk chair, and on Sister President's bed.

  Once her fellow Exec Board members arrived, Sister President put her phone down and faced all of us. "Okay, I think we're all here. This is everyone in IB who knows something about the hand. I need to hear exactly what happened this morning to figure out what this reporter girl knows.”

  We all began talking at once, so Sister President silenced us and began calling on people, jotting down notes, and asking questions. Between the upperclassmen who’d been on the porch, the rest of the Exec officers, and Lindy and I, we came up with a pretty thorough timeline.

  Around three that morning, the Exec officers finally got rid of the hand by wrapping it in newspaper and tossing it in our dumpster. This struck me as not the smoothest thing to do, but I kept my mouth shut about it. I mean, did they not think to be a little more discrete?

  At quarter to nine, there was a knock on the door, and an upperclassman named Emma answered it. She was immediately accosted by the frizzy-haired girl, who identified herself as Bea.

  "‘B’? Like the letter?" Sister President had interrupted.

  "Or like the stinging insect that people hate?" Kayla added.

  "Either," Emma said.

  "Both," I muttered under my breath.

  "Did she give her last name?" Tammy asked.

  Emma shook her head. She continued, explaining that Bea claimed to be from the school newspaper and said they received an anonymous tip that members were seen throwing something questionable in our trash. She said it was so questionable, it could lead to a scandal big enough to close our chapter and have our members arrested. “And then she asked if I cared to comment," Emma concluded.