by Rachel Shane
“Taft lured [the victim] back to his house and then forced her to continue drinking,” a source revealed. Eye witness accounts of Taft carrying the victim over his shoulder into his house back up the appalling claims.
A new twist in the investigation came to light today with evidence of Taft’s arrest for reckless driving during Rho Sigma’s winter formal. Throckmorton University has a no tolerance policy when it comes to serving alcohol to minors and breaking federal laws. Taft has been placed on academic probation and has been expelled from his residence inside the on campus Beta Chi Lambda house. A formal hearing will occur following the investigation to determine if further action must be taken.
I clamped a cold palm over my mouth. Oh God. Corey was homeless. And on academic probation, which meant his GPA had to stay higher than 3.0 in order to remain at this school.
Holly pushed one corner of her mouth aside as if to say eek. “Yeah, it’s bad.”
My knee rattled for the rest of class. I sent off a frantic are you okay? text to Corey. My eyes flipped back and forth from my phone screen to the clock. After class ended, Holly—thank God—voiced all the questions streaming through my head. “Where is he living now?”
“They’re giving him until Sunday to move,” Erin said. She delivered each line like a Broadcast Journalism major should: with no inflection or emotion in her voice. Just the facts, mam.
Sunday. The first day of Spring Break. Less than a week.
Holly shouldered her messenger bag. “Nate must be devastated.”
“He’s considering joining Corey wherever he ends up.”
“That’s kind of cute,” Holly said.
“I know.” Erin pushed open the door to the hallway. “Can’t live without each other. Full-fledged bromance.”
Holly followed after her. “How come they shut you guys down but Beta Chi got off with only a suspension?”
You guys. As if that still included me, too. I hung back a little, enough to stave off the awkwardness but still hear them. Still feel part of the conversation I seemed to not actually be part of.
Erin’s heels clicked on the linoleum. “We had two offenses. The formal and….” She whipped her head toward me, the ends of her chestnut-colored bob slapping her cheeks. She didn’t say it, but we all knew what completed her sentence: me. “This is basically the equivalent of a warning for Beta Chi. If they can stay out of trouble for the rest of the semester, they’ll be back in full force in the fall.”
Except for Corey. Being kicked out of our respective houses was something we could commiserate in. If we were still speaking…
I stuck my foot into the doorjamb to keep it from slamming in my face. “How is Corey taking all this?”
Erin ignored me as if I hadn’t even asked a question, just soldiered right out the building. Holly paused, glancing from me to Erin. She smoothed down her brown hair and stepped toward me. “Listen, this is going to sound weird and totally inappropriate.”
I squinted at her. Nothing would surprise me these days.
“It’s my birthday on Friday. Everyone’s going to Quigley’s. It would be cool if you came.”
My yes flew to the tip of my tongue, ready to be shouted from the rooftops. She was throwing me a life raft while I drowned. But I shifted from one foot to another as I forced a decline to my new and only friend. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said. “I wasn’t even drinking last time and everyone freaked out on me.”
“I understand.” She shrugged with one shoulder. “But I thought I’d offer anyway.”
“Thanks.” We stood there awkwardly, the two of us. “Can I ask you something weird and totally inappropriate?”
She laughed. “It’s only fair.”
I rushed on before I could stop myself. “Did you hook up with Corey? Back when you took him to your formal?”
When she stiffened, I immediately wanted to take the question back. It didn’t matter anymore. We were no longer together. We weren’t even together back then.
“We didn’t have sex or anything, if that helps at all,” she said.
So that was a yes. Not sex, but something. The confirmation splashed right off me without getting me wet. I’d already concluded as much.
“But don’t worry, I’m not into him anymore.”
It was my turn to echo her words back to her: I’m not into him anymore. But we both knew that would be a lie.
It was my fault he gotten kicked out. I’d broken up with him to help me get back to a good place, but I needed to help him too. And there was only way way I could do that. By going right to the source.
I STORMED INTO THE front entrance of The Daily Snowflake and charged down the long hallway. One guy hopped out of the way of my wrath. I pushed open the first door I came to and a guy with large headphones covering his ears glanced up at me in shock. I slammed the door shut and moved onto the next.
Someone tapped me on the back. “What are you looking for?”
“The asshole who ruined everyone’s lives.”
The girl laughed, dark curls bouncing. “You must mean Harrison.”
I crossed my arms. “Tell him his benefactor is here or I search every single room looking for him.”
Somehow I must have looked fierce because the girl told me to wait there while she flew up the stairs. A few minutes later Harrison emerged and swaggered toward me, no glasses this time. I suspected he only wore them when he wanted to be taken seriously.
“Mac! So good to see you.” He leaned toward me and pretended to give me air kisses on both cheeks. “What brings you here? Wait, don’t tell me.” He squinted at me, putting on a grand show of pursing his lips, as he slid his weapon of choice—a tape recorder—out of his pocket. “At least not until I hit record.”
“I’m not falling for that again.”
“It wasn’t a trick, if you recall. Your signed release form proves as much.” He pivoted on the balls of his feet, sneakers squeaking, and led me to the same conference room where he performed his last magic trick that produced the evidence he needed out of thin air. This time he perched on the edge of the table, legs swinging. “So, what can I do for you?”
I stomped right in front of him, invading his personal space. “You can give me answers.”
He donned a mock scoff. “And here I thought there was nothing left to reveal.”
His words twisted the knife in my back deeper. “Why the hell did you go after Corey when you had already gotten Rho Sigma’s house?”
The smirk on his face deepened. An arched brow shot way up by his forehead. “And you thought I’d give you that answer?”
I let out a growl of frustration, anything to stifle the urge to press both palms squarely against his chest and push him over. “I thought there was the slightest minuscule chance a decent person was hiding under there somewhere.”
He rolled his eyes. “All I did was report the absolute facts, at least based on eye witness accounts. I’m not the bad guy here.”
“But you told the whole world.” Or at least all of campus. “So you have nothing against him then? This was all just a way to get someone’s house, anyone’s, and then your latest article was, what? A simple assignment doled out to you by your editor?”
He leaned back on the desk, arms stretched behind him, so relaxed. “Oh, I definitely have a personal vendetta against him. But you got the rest correct.” He stroked his chin with his fingers. “You’re quite good at this investigative reporting stuff. Ever consider becoming a journalist?”
“And stoop to your level? Never.” I straightened. “But please tell me more about this personal vendetta.”
He presented me with a frown. “Sorry, you’ll have to ask him yourself.” He made a grand show of placing his palm over his mouth. “Oh wait, you guys aren’t together anymore, right?” He clucked his tongue. “Sucks.”
And then I did the thing I’d been wanting to do for weeks. I slapped him in the face.
Instead of going back to my dorm, I changed dir
ections and headed right for Beta Chi. Bouncing on my toes, I knocked on the door and coughed against my dry throat. When a brother I didn’t recognize opened the door a crack, I almost turned around to flee. He started to shut the door.
“Is Corey here?” I squeaked. If I planned to do the right thing from now on, I had to actually do it.
The guy eased the door closed another centimeter. “And you are?”
See, this was why we needed a definition. I rolodexed through the options. His ex? His on-again-off-again hook up? The girl who destroyed his life? His soul mate? Okay, maybe scratch the last one. “His friend,” I spit out.
“He said no visitors.”
“Can you please tell him Mac’s here?” I kept my body stiff and rigid, afraid even the slightest leeway in my posture would make me collapse.
The guy pursed his chapped thin lips, probably starved for water instead of beer. “I’m not a messenger.”
“His room is at the top of the stairs, third one on the left. The middle toilet in your second floor bathroom has been clogged for months. Your chef’s name is Carlos.” I rattled off any evidence I could think of that would act as my credentials. “Corey wears those stupid gray sweatpants with the hole in the knee every freaking morning. He keeps a bottle of hot sauce in his mini fridge because he’s super protective of that stuff and can’t bear to share.”
Time could stretch or shrink, always disobeying you and giving you the opposite of what you wanted. The time I spent with Corey rushed by so fast I could barely comprehend it anymore. And now minutes dragged as I stood on the porch in zero degree weather, my cheeks stinging, my fingers turning to icicles.
“Okay, fine. Point taken. You actually know him.” The guy opened the door for me and yawned.
I darted past him before he could change his mind and took the stairs two at a time. At Corey’s door, I banged my fist several times. “Come in,” he said from somewhere in the room, which made me question the brother’s announcement that Corey had decreed no visitors. What he probably meant was no smarmy reporters named Harrison Wagner.
I pushed open the door incrementally. I’d been so determined in my decision to come here but now my pulse amped. Corey glanced up from where he sprawled on the bed, his mouth parted. Memories gurgled to the surface of my mind at the sight of his bed, nearly sidelining me. His hand splayed across my inner thigh. His signature moan and then sheepish smile as he announced, “well, I’m spent.” The tingles that spread all over my body from his slightest touch.
Little islands of red blotchiness dotted across the map of his face. His unkempt hair poked through the bottom of his backwards hat, his facial scruff a little longer than usual. Boxes littered the room, most empty, but a few filled with one or two random items as if he’d thrown shirts across the room in homage to a carnival ring toss game. A small box sat on the coffee table filled with all my toiletries. It was the only box fully packed.
“What are you doing here?” His voice came out all raspy like it did first thing in the morning or that one time he’d cried in front of me. He glanced away toward the wall.
“Corey, I’m so sorry.” I swallowed hard and stepped toward him. I’d said those words so many times now, they’d already lost meaning, so I tried a new tactic. “Are you okay?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. Or naïve. Of course he wasn’t okay. He was a delicate, white, puffy, dandelion; one deep exhale and all the seeds would disperse into the air.
“Have you told your parents?”
“Yeah.” He shut his eyes, his lashes fluttering. “They won’t pay rent anymore. Just tuition, though even that’s debatable. Which is great because in order to find another place, I have to put down first month and security, neither of which I have.” He draped his arm over his eyes. “I don’t have time for a job. I have classes! And actual studying to do now that I have to get my grades up.”
A job was a foreign concept for Corey. A step down. Not just a means to an end, but an end to it all.
“If you need help—looking for an apartment or something. I’m here.” I tried to sound supportive.
“Why are you here?” He turned on to his side and open one eye at me. The wounded look on his face stabbed my heart.
I wasn’t really shocked he was so blunt. He always did everything in extremes. My anger at him had burned up and disintegrated the moment I walked into his room, like a slip of paper set on fire and turned to ash. I inched closer and perched on the edge of his bed. “To make things right.”
Tints of blue robbed Corey’s skin of its normal, robust glow. “Fucking Harrison tricked you into that confession, didn’t he?”
My face burned as I let out a relieved breath. Corey believed me without me uttering a word. “Why is he so hell bent on hurting you?”
Corey strung an arm over his eyes. “It’s a long story but the gist of it is, he rushed Beta Chi two falls ago. We’d really bonded, I think he assumed he’d get a bid, become my little brother, all that crap. But then we found out he was writing an exposé on pledging and turned him down. He’s had it out for me ever since.”
I straightened, vaguely remembering Harrison mentioning that Corey had cried during pledging. I wondered if this was something they’d bonded over when Harrison had rushed Beta Chi, maybe something Corey had told him in confidence, which Harrison now exploited.
Silence crept into the cracks between us, wind whipping through the window panes and sending a tree tapping against the glass. I pulled out his Angel coin from my jeans. “Corey, you should have this.”
“I gave it to you. Keep it.” He knocked his knuckles against mine to push my hand away. “It helped me get through the worst time of my life, I hope it did the same for you.”
“I’m getting help,” I said, admitting it for the first time out loud. “I made an appointment with the school counselor.” I didn’t think I was an alcoholic, though maybe one of the side effects of being one was denial, but I clearly needed an extra push to help me quit cold turkey. “And another thing.” I twisted my hands in my lap, my eyes focused on the wood grain beneath my feet. A heaviness welled up inside me, forcing its way out of my mouth in the form of a huge sigh. Admitting I might have a drinking problem was hard, admitting I was wrong was harder. “I should never have suggested we drive.”
Corey shook his head. “You only suggested, I acted. I was wrong too. I know that now.”
A lump blocked my airways. “I should never have broken up with you.” All this time I’d been pissed at him for squashing our potential relationship back in October, but I’d done the exact same thing. I didn’t need to carve him out of my life to figure out what was left of me without him. What I needed was his shoulder to lean on while I stitched myself together. I’d secretly blamed him for being a bad influence on me, but I’d made every one of the decisions that had led me here. “I miss you,” I whispered.
I didn’t give him a chance to answer or respond, I wasn’t ready yet, my transformation incomplete. I was fixing me, but I still had a long way to go to fix him.
Instead, I slid off his bed, grabbed my box of toiletries, and walked out of the room.
THE NEXT DAY, I marched straight to the Greek Organization office after my first meeting with the counselor. She’d listened to all my confessions and it felt phenomenally good to get everything off my chest. She started prying to the root of why I was drinking and I was surprised to discover the answer had nothing to do with Corey. It was that I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. We were working on that, and in the meantime, I agreed to go to one of the campus Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.
As I entered the Greek Organization office, I held my breath. Truthfully, I knew this plan was a long shot. But not trying would get me nowhere. This might get me somewhere.
“I’m so sorry,” the receptionist told me, “rush sign-ups ended weeks ago.” A copier hummed, spitting out warm sheets of paper. Large windows hung behind her, their shades closed, the sight of winter no longer appealing.
I tapped my fingers on the linoleum counter. “No, I want to talk to someone about Rho Sigma.”
She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Hold on.” She picked up the phone and mumbled something so low I could only make out the aggravated tone.
A moment later, the same blond woman from Harrison’s incriminating evidence photo emerged from a glass door. She smoothed down her cardigan and gestured for me to join her. I followed her into a gray office, as dismal as the weather outside. She clasped her fingers on top of her desk. “Let me guess. You want to plead the case to reinstate Rho Sigma?”
I unzipped my coat as sweat pooled in the crooks of my elbows, a side effect of going to school in zero degree weather. The buildings jacked up the heat. “Am I not the first person to come in?”
“Your former president has been here every day.”
Layla. I almost felt bad for her. Almost. She really did care about the sorority.
The woman kept her lips set in a thin line, even as she spoke. “Rho Sigma violated several infractions. With just one, we could settle on a temporary suspension as a warning. But more than one offense oversteps our no tolerance policy. I’m afraid we can’t make an exception for you. Others may feel they’re owed the same justice.”
So we were an example. “What if we proved we would be good? We’ll do philanthropy. We’ll sign contracts promising to abstain from alcohol and parties.”
“All of that is required anyway. Parties held inside fraternity or sorority houses are already restricted from serving alcohol to minors and must be registered with the Greek Organization.”