UI 101

by M. K. Claeys

  I thundered home, shooting like a lightning bolt past the guy who had been walking in front of me. Let him stare. I didn’t give a crap. I could find another hottie to ogle during class if I wanted. It wasn’t like it would be hard. I made it back to my dorm room in record time, readying myself for a good Brian-bashing session with Rae and Mitzy too, if she happened to be there. All thoughts of that conversation left my mind when I opened the door to find my roommate wearing boxers and the same wifebeater—sans bra—I had seen her sleep in now two nights in a row.

  “You know what, Ryn,” Rae slurred as she stumbled across the rug to take my hat and mittens from me, only to drop them on the floor instead of hanging them on the coat rack I had picked up from Goodwill. “I only miss him when I think about him.”

  “Okay,” I began slowly, picking my hat and mittens up off the floor, “well, that has to be an improvement, right? It’s good to see you’re feeling, um, better.”

  “Right!” Rae agreed brightly, grabbing her fifth of Jack Daniel’s off the futon and taking a swig. She didn’t even pull a face. “Because I mean, if I only miss him when I think about him, that means I only miss him…all…the time.” And my roommate burst into tears.

  Shit. And I thought I had problems?

  “Rae! Oh my God! For crying out loud, it’s only Brad!”

  “But I liked Brad!” she wailed. “He t-treated me nice. He always s-smelled g-g-good. And he l-let me sleep on the feather p-pillow.”

  “Rae!” I cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a vigorous shake. She had had more than enough time to get over this. It was time to stop mollycoddling and beat some sense into her. “He. Cheated. On. You.” I stated it slowly, loudly, and bluntly, to ensure that there was no mistaking what I was trying to make her understand. “Or rather,” I clarified, “he cheated on his girlfriend with you. Because whether he admits it or not, if he didn’t officially call it quits with her before he came to Illington, they were still together. And that makes him a cheater. And once a cheater, always a cheater, Rae, and cheaters do not make good boyfriends.”

  Rae sank to the carpet and just sobbed, cradling the fifth of whiskey to her breast like an infant. And really, what was I supposed to do? I could lie to her and tell her everything would turn out all right, like I had been doing for the past three weeks. I could tell her that Brad was an idiot, which he was, and that she deserved better—which she did—but none of that would get through to her. She was too far into the depths of despair.

  “I’m no better than Becky Jackson,” she moaned, wiping her nose with the back of her fist and leaving a trail of snot up her arm. “I just ruined some girl’s life!”

  “Rae. You did not ruin her life. Brad did. I mean, did you not tell me that when she opened the door, you just handed her the sweatshirt, asked her to thank Brad for the loan, said you’d heard so much about her and walked away? Didn’t you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Well! There you go. She probably just thought that you were some poor girl who got cold walking home from…I don’t know, church group with him Friday night and you just stopped by to return the sweatshirt her ‘sainted boyfriend’ loaned you. She probably has no idea you slept naked together in his bed the night before and were planning on having breakfast that morning.”

  “You really th-think so?”

  I nodded firmly. “Yes, I do. And Brad, being the jackass that he is, probably just let her go on thinking that and never told her about you at all.” I opened the bathroom door and turned on the shower full blast, came back into the room, grabbed Rae by the hand, and dragged her into the bathroom behind me. “Now get in that shower and make yourself presentable.”

  “No.”

  “Rae, do what I tell you.”

  “Don’t wanna,” she said obstinately, sounding very much like her five-year-old niece and nephew when they called on the phone. She folded her arms across her chest, the bottle wrapped up in between, and attempted to stare me down through her alcohol-blurred vision.

  “Damn it, Rae, I don’t care if you take the rum in there with you. Just make sure you get yourself clean.”

  “’Snot rum,” Rae mumbled, “’s’whiskey. Scott got it for me.” And she nearly walked right into the shower stall with her top and boxers on, but I grabbed her by the back of the shirt and pulled her back out.

  “Darling, it might help if you take these off.”

  She sighed and lifted her arms over her head, waiting. Had it been anyone other than Rae or Mitzy and maybe Paul I would have slapped them and told them to take their own clothes off, but Rae was, like, my best friend. And she had all the same parts as me.

  That, and I’m pretty sure we’ve both seen each other naked at some point by now. I’m sure if the situation were reversed, she’d have done the same for me.

  I grabbed the bottom of her wifebeater, lifted it and the whiskey bottle over her head, helped her step out of the boxer shorts, and shut her into the shower.

  “Make sure you don’t knock yourself out on the wall, okay?” I said, only half-joking.

  “I won’t,” she mumbled, taking a last sip of her whiskey before setting it down outside the curtain and reaching for the shampoo. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. That’s what best friends are for, isn’t it?”

  I left her to it—but not before I hid the whiskey bottle inside the futon—changed my shoes for slippers, and made my way down to Mitzy’s room, knocking three times before I let myself in.

  “Hi!” she greeted me brightly. “Excited it’s Friday?”

  “Sure,” I replied, not really paying attention to her question. “I need your help.”

  “No problem. Just name it,” she said, stepping away from her computer and patting what she had turned from Tasha’s bed into a large, comfy couch, indicating for me to take a load off. “Have a seat and tell Dr. Mitzy all about it.”

  “It’s Rae. We have got to do something. I just got back from class to find her piss drunk and sobbing in the middle of the floor!”

  “What?”

  “I know. She hasn’t left the room for a week, not even for class. I bring her food from the café, which I don’t mind doing, seeing as she eats it and isn’t going anorexic on us, but honestly. She’s been doing nothing but listening to Julia Michaels and Frank Sinatra and drinking herself stupid on Jack Daniel’s all week.”

  “Who bought her Jack?”

  “Some senior guy named Scott who pulled her out of the way of a speeding car.”

  Mitzy raised her eyebrows.

  “She didn’t jump in front of it. Or at least, she said she didn’t. But anyway, it has got to stop!”

  Mitzy didn’t say a word but walked straight back to her computer and started clicking away. After a few moments of silence, she called me over and pointed at the screen.

  “Williams Hall Idol competition?” I asked, perplexed. “How is this supposed—”

  “It’s a karaoke competition,” she explained. “We can get dressed up and go, Rae can participate and most likely win, and we’ll all have a good time.”

  “It says here that there’s a prize of two hundred dollars. If anything could make Rae’s week that certainly could.”

  “Exactly. So go back to your room and pick her out an outfit. I’ll be down there in ten minutes after I let the usual crowd know where to meet us.”

  I grinned. “Have I ever told you that you’re brilliant?”

  “No, but I like hearing it.”

  “You’re brilliant.”

  I hugged her and made my way back to my room just as Rae emerged from the shower, looking a million times better than when I’d left her.

  “Have a seat and start lotioning yourself up,” I ordered. “We’re going out tonight, and Mitzy and I are going to play beauty parlor with you before we leave.”

  “I don’t really think I—”

  “I don’t care what you think. Have another shot, a glass of water, and a Red Bull, and after Mitzy and I
are finished with you, then tell me how you feel.”

  Rae obediently sat and did as I advised, and once the three of us were ready, she was definitely intrigued about what Mitzy and I had planned.

  “You’ll see,” said Mitzy mysteriously, winking at me.

  We led Rae down to the first-floor study lounge and into the seats Paul and Jamaal had reserved for us with Maliha and Kate. Rae was so tipsy that it took till the first singer had completed his song before she realized what was up.

  “Karaoke! Sweet! I wanna do it!”

  “Already signed you up, girl,” said Paul. “You’ll be the star of the night.”

  We hooted and hollered through five more singers, only two of which could actually carry a tune, and then Brad walked in with Derek. I shot him a glare which he completely missed.

  “What the hell were you thinking bringing Brad down here?!” I shrieked as Mitzy did a fantastic job of keeping Rae distracted so she wouldn’t notice that the jerk of the century had walked in to ruin our “Stick it to Brad” karaoke competition.

  “I’m sorry! He saw me in the hallway and asked me where I was going! I couldn’t very well lie, could I?”

  “I would have!”

  “Well, I mean, ah, God, Ryn, I’m sorry! But, I mean, maybe it will all be okay, I mean—”

  He never had the chance to finish, because the DJ called Rae’s name and she walked up and grabbed the mic. We had selected her first song for her, Adele’s “Rumor Has It,” the one Paul and I had walked in on her dancing and lip-syncing to in her towel—and as she faced the crowd, her eyes locked on Brad.

  I totally expected her to drop the mic and run back to our room, but Brad’s arrival—and quite possibly the whiskey—had a completely different effect on her. Judging by the enthusiastic wave, wink, and grin he shot her across the room, he was apparently clueless as to how she had spent her week. A complete change came over Rae’s demeanor. Her spine straightened, her eyes flashed, and she unloaded into that mic with a fervor even her hairbrush would have been jealous of. The crowd loved it, and what was more, so did Brad.

  The idiot.

  The contest was swinging, and Rae was an immediate favorite. By the time it got to the final round of the competition, there were only three people left, and there was a ten-minute interlude so they could decide what song they wanted to put in as their final choice. I was chatting with Maliha, Kate, and Mitzy and having a great time until Kate’s eyes about popped out of her head.

  “Oh. My. God! What is she doing?” Kate cried, pointing toward Rae.

  Mitzy and I spun around, only to see Rae sitting on a chair right next to Brad. Okay, it was more like she was sitting practically in Brad’s lap, seeing as she had her legs draped over him and all and was whispering in his ear.

  “Jamaal!” Mitzy shrieked. “Kill!”

  We burst out laughing as Jamaal looked over all innocently at her from where he was standing with Derek at the snack table eating chips.

  “Kill who? What, babe? Ohh.”

  Just then, Paul came running over to us. “Don’t worry about her. We’ve got everything under control.”

  “You’d better hope so,” I hissed, “because if Brad comes into our room tonight, I will fully dare him to drink a bottle of NyQuil just so I can shave his head with my razor while he’s passed out.”

  He wouldn’t elaborate, but it all started to become clear when it was Rae’s turn and the DJ plugged Paul’s guitar into the amplifier. The rest of our floor, it appeared, had shown up and was blocking the entire entrance to the student lounge. They were there to support her. My roommate took the stage and gave me a roguish wink.

  “This,” she said into the mic as she adjusted the guitar strap, “is a little song that you all know about a certain friend of mine.” A massive cheer ran through the crowd. “But,” shouted Rae, over the din, “I’ve revamped it a bit, to make it more Illington appropriate. So here goes a little song I wrote for you all to enjoy. Feel free to sing along.”

  * * *

  Oh, you all know Bradley Davis.

  He’s that hottie that lives across the hall.

  But did you know about Bradley Davis,

  What he’s really lacking is balls?

  * * *

  You know, I made out with Brad—

  I’m sure you all know it’s true,

  But there’s a little something he’s been hiding,

  And it’s high time I shared it with you.

  * * *

  Bitch, fuck you, Bradley Davis,

  You’re a dirty, lying cheat.

  Whore, fuck you, Bradley Davis,

  I hope you die in the street.

  You can keep your other girlfriend for all I care.

  You don’t mean shit to me.

  Oh, go to hell, Bradley Davis,

  You ain’t no friend to me.

  * * *

  Well Bradley Davis, he never told me

  That he had a girlfriend back at home.

  And Bradley Davis, he never told me

  That he left her there all alone.

  * * *

  Hee hee. I definitely saw now how blocking the entire entrance to the lounge was key. Brad had no easy escape route because even if he tried to fight his way through the rest of our floor occupants, he’d make a huge scene, and then everyone in the room who didn’t already know who he was would find out in a New York second.

  * * *

  Oh, I know we all keep secrets

  About our hometowns, Bradley Davis,

  But did you really think I wouldn’t find out?

  I hope the rest of undergrad you go dateless.

  * * *

  Bitch, fuck you, Bradley Davis,

  You’re a dirty, lying cheat.

  Whore, fuck you, Bradley Davis,

  I hope you die in the street.

  You can keep your other girlfriend for all I care.

  You don’t mean shit to me.

  Oh, go to hell, Bradley Davis,

  You ain’t no friend to me.

  * * *

  Oh, Bradley Davis, why’d you lie?

  You told me I was your girl.

  You said you wanted to take it up a notch,

  Now all I want to do is hurl.

  * * *

  “Take it up a notch?” Was he serious? What a lame ass!

  * * *

  Well, now guess what, Bradley Davis?

  I’ve met Kim, and she sure is swell.

  We’ll be posting this song on YouTube,

  So soon she’ll know you’re a jerk as well.

  * * *

  Bitch, fuck you, Bradley Davis,

  You’re a dirty, lying cheat.

  Whore, fuck you, Bradley Davis,

  I hope you die in the street.

  You can keep your other girlfriend for all I care.

  You don’t mean shit to me.

  Oh, go to hell, Bradley Davis,

  You ain’t no friend to me.

  * * *

  Oh, you can keep your other girlfriend for all I care,

  But you know she’ll find out about me anyway.

  You’re a whore and you know it.

  You’re cheating on your woman,

  And there’s no way I’m gonna stay with you.

  And you all know who I’m talking about;

  Yeah, he used to be the guy I liked, Bradley Davis!

  * * *

  The lounge sounded as if a dam had burst, the noise of cheering was so deafening. The DJ just went up and put two hundred dollars in Rae’s hand, and after everything died down, we all went back upstairs.

  “Hey, Paul?” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry in advance, you know, for having to be in the same room tonight as Brad. If you want, you can sleep over, if it’s too awkward.”

  “I think I might just do that,” he replied. “But first I need to post your song on YouTube. You know, because you said we would and all.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.
“Someone recorded it?”

  “Yeah. This really hot guy named Dani from the fourth floor filmed the entire thing on his iPhone and said that he would bring it up so I could post it.”

  “Ooh, barely even a week into the semester and you’ve already got a man crush! Way to go, Paul!”

  So Paul posted the video on not only YouTube, but CollegeHumor.com. And he was right— Dani was a definite hottie. And we put Illington in the search words so no one from the university would be hard-pressed to find it.

  Revenge is so sweet. Even if I’m only reaping the rewards of it vicariously through Rae.

  “So what are you going to do with the money, Rae?” I asked as we crawled into our beds, Mitzy settled in on the futon, and Paul sprawled out on the floor.

  “Easy. I’m going to take all four of us downtown tomorrow to do something fun.”

  “Ooh! Thanks, Rae,” said Mitzy appreciatively. “We should all do something crazy! Everyone’s supposed to do something crazy their first year of college, right?”

  “Define crazy,” I said, “and we’ll talk.”

  “I don’t know, like get our navels pierced!”

  “I’ve already got mine done,” I admitted. “Although I think Paul would look pretty sexy with one.”

  “Shut up, Ryn.”

  “I’m serious! I saw it on a guy once, and it was totally hot! I mean, it takes a special kind of guy to rock a navel piercing, but I think you could pull it off.”

  “Mmm, I always wanted to get my nose pierced,” Rae said longingly. “Just one of those little baby studs.”

  “That would look good on you, Rae,” agreed Paul. “I think I would get a scaffold.”

  “What’s a scaffold?” asked Mitzy. “I thought artists used them, like, you know, a Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel kind of thing?”

  “Well, that’s true, but the one I’m talking about is a double cartilage piercing in your ear, with a bar that goes from one hole across the top to the other.”