Scandal

by Lauren Kunze

  Jessica burst out laughing. “So says the girl who swore she’d never be caught dead in a sweater set!”

  “This isn’t a sweater set!” Callie cried. “This is just a normal sweater and yes,” she said, pointing at it, “these things tend to come in handy when it’s negative five degrees outside.”

  “Touché.” Jessica laughed again. “How about we just go for regular tea, then?”

  “Perfect,” said Callie. “I know a place.”

  “Pre-party festivities start at eight,” Vanessa called after them as, arm-in-arm, they headed for the door. “So don’t be late!”

  Several hours later, after raiding Mimi’s closet for all the feathered, shiny lamé, metallic-colored, and any other vaguely “Euro” items they could find, “The Mini Me-mes” (or so Mimi had delightedly renamed Callie, Jessica, and Vanessa after seeing them in her clothes) had arrived. After checking their names off the list, an upperclassman wearing sunglasses and skin-tight white pants handed them glow-stick necklaces and then admitted them into the darkened lobby of the beautiful redbrick mansion on Mount Auburn Street that housed the Spee Club.

  “What a scene!” Jessica declared. “At Stanford, a ‘party’ usually just means a couple of jocks standing around a keg. No paper invites, no list, and definitely none of this,” she finished, peering into one of the dimly lit rooms off the hall. Glow-sticks pulsed in time to techno music like beacons through a fog, revealing flashes of cleavage and chest hair as scantily clad girls decked in gaudy jewelry mingled with boys rocking tight jeans and even tighter, low-cut shirts.

  “This?” Vanessa repeated. “This is nothing! Security’s way more lax than usual tonight because it’s pre–punch season for the Final Clubs, so they’re actually letting a few select freshman dudes in for a change.”

  “Like Matt and OK?” asked Jessica. “Where are they, anyway?”

  “Upstairs, maybe, on the dance floor?” said Vanessa. “Anyway, you should have seen the setup at the Fly’s Great Gatsby party back in March. I mean, the champagne fountain! The jazz band! The boys in their white tuxedos—”

  “Shh!” Callie grabbed Vanessa’s arm, nodding pointedly at the couple who had just entered through the lobby.

  Alexis and Clint. Who had, ironically, rekindled their relationship at that same party back in March—the party where Callie had supposedly been Clint’s date.

  “Oh my god,” Jessica started in a whisper, “is that who I think it is?”

  “Quick—in here!” Callie instructed, ushering them all into a room on the left.

  “Was that him?” Jessica demanded breathlessly. “The runner-up for World’s Douchiest Ex, second only to Evan?”

  “Shh!” Callie cried again, peeking out into the hall. Lexi and Clint continued to walk, eventually disappearing behind the club’s “mascot,” a huge fourteen-foot-tall stuffed bear at the end of the hall near the stairs. Sighing with relief, Callie rejoined her friends.

  “Yes, that was him, with Satan herself.”

  “Wow,” said Jessica, “she’s gorgeous.”

  Callie gave her a pained look.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I just expected warts or something…you know, to match the inner witch?”

  “If only, if only,” said Vanessa, tugging at the base of her metallic hot pink romper.

  “Pourquoi ne pas nous numb this potential for an awkward encounter with a little drinky,” Mimi suggested, “and then we head upstairs and slap the dance floor?”

  “Hit the dance floor,” Callie corrected.

  “Same difference, mais non?” said Mimi, strolling up to a bar in the corner of the room and ordering four shots.

  “To dancing,” Mimi toasted, raising her glass after she had distributed the others.

  “To new friends,” said Vanessa, smiling at Jessica.

  “To best friends,” said Callie.

  Jessica chewed her lip. “To kissing random boys because you’re only in town for the weekend!”

  “Whoo-hoo!” Vanessa cheered while Mimi downed her drink.

  “Upstairs?” asked Callie, throwing an arm around Jessica.

  “Yes!” she agreed, sliding an arm around Callie’s waist.

  A few minutes later, the girls arrived at the top of the stairs. Callie paused midway to the enormous library-turned-dance-floor-for-the-evening, staring into a room with reddish walls and plush leather couches, where students already burned out from dancing lingered to catch their breath or carry on a quasi-audible conversation. Clint stood at the bar in the corner, mixing two cocktails.

  “Allons danser!” Mimi cried.

  “Yes, let’s go dance!” Callie quickly agreed, following Mimi onto the floor.

  At the far end of the room a DJ dropped beats from a table elevated on a mini-stage. Lights flickered across their faces as Mimi pulled them front and center, where they proceeded to clear an area by dancing as exuberantly as possible. Several “randos,” or so Vanessa dubbed them, attempted to approach, but the girls shut them down, preferring to dance, according to Vanessa, “dudelessly.”

  “This is so fun!” Jessica called to Callie over the badabups of the intro to Papa Americano.

  “It is fun!” Callie agreed, grabbing her best friend’s hands and spinning her.

  “Why do you look so surprised?” Jessica asked over the music, laughing and bouncing up and down to the beat.

  Callie shrugged. “I guess things haven’t been so fun lately!”

  Jessica stopped suddenly and moved closer, gripping Callie by the shoulders. “Everything will be okay,” she said, speaking firmly into Callie’s ear. “You’ll see.” Backing away, she spun around, waving her hands over her head. “But for now,” she continued, “the best thing you can do is dance!”

  Callie laughed, letting Vanessa twirl her around. “You’re so right! I love you guys!”

  “Je vous aime aussi!” Mimi yelled. “Oh, regarde,” she continued, pointing to the other end of the room. “C’est Matt et OK. Bonjour mes petits voisins!” she screamed, racing over to join her “little neighbors.”

  “She loses her English when she drinks,” Vanessa explained to Jessica.

  “Let’s go say hi!” said Callie, weaving her way after Mimi through the crowd.

  OK, who wore a shiny silver jacket over a white button-down shirt with only three bottom buttons done, appeared to be in much better spirits this evening, picking Mimi up and whirling her around in a giant bear hug when she reached them. Matt, on the other hand, looked extremely uncomfortable in a lime green, short-sleeved, button-down shirt that he seemed to have borrowed, based on the size of it, from Adam’s closet.

  He perked up slightly when he spotted Jessica approaching, who greeted him with a hug.

  Careful, Callie wanted to warn her. He’s very fragile right now. She had been so wrapped up with filling Jessica in on her own drama earlier that afternoon and grilling Jess about life back at Stanford that Callie had neglected to mention anything having to do with Matt’s botched love confession.

  “Ladies, hello,” OK boomed in his British best when he’d set Mimi down. He kissed first Callie and then Vanessa on the cheek before turning to Jessica. “And this must be the lovely Ms. Stanley come all the way from Stanford University,” he said, taking her hand. “Enchanté, mademoiselle,” he added, kissing it. “You are as beautiful as your Facebook profile picture if not more so, a phenomenon I find rare in this messed-up, Photoshopped world.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” said Jessica, batting her eyelashes.

  Oh no, thought Callie. Here we go. She and Vanessa exchanged a look.

  “Though after hearing so many hilarious stories,” Jessica continued, “I feel like I already know you!”

  OK froze, accelerating from suave to scared in approximately three seconds. “What stories?”

  “Well,” said Jessica, “there was the time you got naked and accidentally jumped into Dana’s bed because you thought it was your own, and then that other
time you got naked for Primal Scream and Mimi stole all your clothes, and then that other time over spring break when you got na—”

  “Blondie!” OK interrupted in a menacing tone, shaking his fist at Callie. “Why must you constantly salt my game?”

  “Sorry.” Callie laughed. “But it’s too late. Jess already knows you’re with somebody else.”

  “Huh?” said OK, narrowing his eyes. “According to who?”

  “Uh—Mimi? She said you’ve been sneaking around with some mystery lady?”

  Mimi, who had started talking to Vanessa and Matt, stopped and waved. OK glared at her. “From Mimi, eh? Well, Mimi,” he said, raising his voice, “should know better than most that I am not sneaking around with anyone because I refuse to sneak around on principle.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows. “Then what’s with the nightly noises, man?”

  OK balked. Then he smiled. “Previous suitemates at Eton have described me as a ‘violent and aggressive masturbator.’”

  “ALL RIGHT, TIME TO GO,” Callie announced, grabbing Jessica and Vanessa and dragging them back toward the more crowded area of the dance floor. “We’ll be over by the DJ if you guys decide to start acting more…civilized.”

  “Wait!” Jessica cried. “We have to rescue Matt!” Darting back, she took him by the hand, tugging him away from where OK stood glaring at Mimi.

  Vanessa, seeing the worried look on Callie’s face, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Just relax and let them have some harmless fun,” Vanessa murmured into her ear.

  Callie nodded, smiling at Matt and Jessica when they arrived. Then, forming a circle, they all started to dance.

  Twenty minutes later Callie found herself scanning the crowd, searching for Mimi and OK. Neither was anywhere to be found. She did spot Clint and Alexis over near the window at the edge of the dance floor, talking intently. Her eyes continued to skim over the sweaty heads of her fellow students. She sighed, tired of doing a double take every time she spotted a guy with dark brown hair, or light blue eyes, or a vague shadow of that unbelievable, maddening, tantalizing I know what you look like in your underwear sort of a smile.

  “I’m parched!” she cried hoarsely, turning back to her friends and motioning at her throat. “Anyone want to go find some water?”

  “Yes!” Vanessa yelled. “Let’s try that way!” she added, pointing in the direction of the reddish-colored room that Callie had noticed on their way upstairs.

  “We can come, too,” said Jessica, breaking away from Matt.

  “No, no,” Callie urged. “You stay. We’ll be right back.”

  The room felt mercifully cool after the sweaty dance floor: the dim lighting a welcome relief following the flickering strobe lights.

  “This way,” said Vanessa, heading for the self-service bar. “Liquor, liquor everywhere,” she muttered, sifting through the bottles on the table, “but not a drop I want to drink!”

  “Check in that refrigerator behind the bar,” said Callie.

  “Is that allowed?” asked Vanessa.

  “No one’s gonna care,” said Callie, noting that none of the students mixing drinks looked like members. She craned her neck so she could see above their heads, but the people sitting down appeared to be mostly couples on the verge of making out.

  “Pfft,” Vanessa snorted, opening the refrigerator door. “Who supplies a bar with plastic LED light-up ice cubes but no water?” she complained, rooting around in the fridge. “It’s a serious design flaw if you ask me, not to mention sort of hazardous if you thi—Ah-ha! Found it!”

  “What the fuck…?” said Callie, who had been on the lookout instead of listening.

  “What?” said Vanessa, turning around and handing Callie a water. “No ‘thank you’?”

  “Sorry,” said Callie. “But seriously, what the fuck is happening over there?”

  “Where?” asked Vanessa.

  “There,” Callie answered, nodding in the direction of a couch in the corner.

  Alessandra, holding a martini glass in which the liquid was sloshing perilously, leaned into Tyler who had apparently abandoned all pretenses and unbuttoned his shirt entirely. Their faces were only inches apart, her hand rested on his knee, and they seemed about five seconds away from sneaking off to a Members Only section of the club so Tyler’s pants and Alessandra’s dress—if you could call it that—could go the way of his shirt.

  “What the fuck, fuck, fuckitty, fuck,” said Vanessa, slamming her water onto the table. “What the hell does your non-boyfriend’s non-ex-girlfriend think she’s doing with my ex-boyfriend?”

  “Huh?” said Callie.

  “Exactly,” said Vanessa, seizing her hand. “Let’s go find out.”

  “Wait—no—ah—stop—”

  “What, may I ask, is going on here?” Vanessa demanded after marching across the room in spite of Callie’s protests.

  “Excuse me?” said Alessandra, her unfocused eyes sliding over first Vanessa and then Callie.

  Callie cowered behind Vanessa, praying that perhaps no one would remember this in the morning.

  Unfortunately Vanessa was doing everything in her power to make the encounter as memorable as possible.

  “You,” she said, pointing at Tyler, “should know better than to blatantly hit on someone whom you know to have a boyfriend, and you,” she continued, rounding on Alessandra, “well, how could you?”

  “How could I what?” Alessandra asked.

  “Do this to Gregory!” Vanessa cried. “As his girlfriend you should be supporting him, not cheating on him in public!”

  Alessandra rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said as Tyler attempted to inch away from her, shrinking back over the arm of the couch. “We weren’t even doing anything.”

  “Oh,” said Vanessa before Callie could interject, “that’s a good one. I wonder what else you’ve been lying about, hmm? Maybe Callie here was right after all—”

  Callie cringed.

  “Maybe you haven’t even heard from Gregory or—”

  “Maybe,” Alessandra interrupted Vanessa, “you should mind your own business and stop yelling at people for hitting on other people’s girlfriends when your friend here—yes, I see you, Callie—does it all the time!”

  Tyler shook himself. “Whose girlfriend did she hit on?” he asked, perking up considerably.

  “Nobody’s girlfriend,” Alessandra snapped. “My boyfriend. If anybody ought to be worried about being cheated on, it’s me, not him!”

  Several nearby partygoers had stopped talking, straining to overhear in between the pulsing sounds of the music pounding in the next room.

  “As long as you’re in the picture,” Alessandra continued, rounding on Callie, “nobody at this school’s boyfriend is safe!”

  “Oh yeah?” said Vanessa, drawing herself up. “Maybe that’s because Callie doesn’t put the trash in euro!”

  Tyler laughed. “Sorry,” he apologized as three sets of angry eyes zeroed in on him. “That was…sort of funny.”

  “Vanessa,” said Callie quietly, “I really think we should go.”

  “Don’t go,” said Alessandra. “Stay—while you still can.”

  “What?” said Callie sharply.

  “I meant why would you leave,” Alessandra elaborated, sloshing some of her drink onto the couch, “when there are so many other people’s boyfriends at this party for you to steal?”

  Vanessa gave an oh-no-you-didn’t gasp. Slowly Callie shook her head. “For the record, I never tried to steal your boyfriend, and I refuse to apologize for the fact that we had a history before you ever even set foot on this campus.”

  “Oh yes,” said Alessandra, her eyes hazy. “There you go again about your ‘history.’ I wonder what lie you’ll tell me this time. You know, I thought I was sorry, but I’m not!”

  “Sorry about what?” asked Callie.

  “Trusting you!” Alessandra babbled semi-coherently. “You deserve him. I mean it. You deserve…whatever happens….”

&n
bsp; Tyler, who had been fidgeting, turned to Vanessa. “Is it just me, or are you suddenly feeling really hot?”

  “Seriously?” Vanessa snapped. “Seriously! That’s your opening line? Well, you’d better quit while you’re ahead, sweetie, because that train has left the station—in fact, it left weeks ago, and it’s an express train, so it won’t be making any stops in Lonely-on-a-Tuesday Town or I’m-feeling-sort-of-fat-tonight City or—”

  “No.” Tyler shook his head emphatically. “It’s hot in here. Temperature wise. Does anyone else smell…?”

  “Smoke,” Callie supplied, noticing some wafting in from the foyer at the top of the stairs.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Vanessa. “That’s just fog from the fog machine on the dance floor.”

  “Really?” said Tyler. “Because it smells an awful lot like smo—”

  “FIRE!” somebody screamed suddenly from downstairs. “THE BEAR—IS ON—FIRE!”

  The music in the next room stopped. Students started pouring into the foyer, clamoring down the stairs.

  “Somebody dial nine-one-one!”

  “They’re already on their way!”

  “Quick—there’s a fire extinguisher in the back office—”

  “It’s too late for that—we need to get everybody out—NOW,” the Spee’s president screamed, darting up the stairs and barking orders at the other members on the second floor, instructing them to make sure everybody evacuated immediately.

  Tyler was already up on his feet, one arm thrown around Vanessa.

  “COME ON!” Callie screamed at Alessandra, who remained frozen on the couch. “Move!”

  Alessandra didn’t budge.

  “CALLIE!” Vanessa cried as Tyler pulled her out of the room.

  Shaking her head, Callie grabbed Alessandra by the forearms and dragged her to her feet. “Snap out of it!” Callie yelled, pushing the older girl toward the stairs.

  Alessandra finally seemed to rouse, stumbling on her four-inch heels. “Oh my—what the—”