Scandal

by Lauren Kunze

  Oddly enough, this was not the most bizarre thing in the room.

  Several feet away Adam lay curled up near the TV, wearing a blue-and-white polka-dot dress, stockings, and pumps. Red lipstick was smeared across his face. A pink wig and a purse had been abandoned nearby.

  OK sprawled facedown, spread-eagle under the coffee table, his head, arms, and calves poking out from underneath the mahogany wood. His limbs were bare, and one quick peek under the table confirmed his total nakedness. Callie reached toward the coffee table, cringing as she slid a copy of the Crimson out from under a mostly fallen tower of Jenga Truth or Dare blocks. Then, ever so gently, she arranged the newspaper pages to cover his rear. OK didn’t budge.

  Sighing quietly, Callie slumped back onto the couch, her eyes traveling to the other side of the room.

  Vanessa, wearing only a one-piece bathing suit, appeared to have passed out in the exact same position as OK except that she lay faceup rather than facedown. Her forearms, forehead, and thighs were covered with what looked like chemical equations written in different colors.

  Frowning, Callie peered behind the couch. Dana sat slumped against it, a thin thread of drool pooling on the collar of her shirt. In her hands she clutched permanent markers in red, green, and blue.

  Spinning slowly, Callie scanned the rest of the room.

  Mimi was missing.

  Many odd items littered the floor, including (1) pair of glasses; (1) pair of pants (plus suspenders but minus an owner); (3) bottles of wine (empty); (7) cartons of Chinese food from the Kong (also empty); (1) bottle featuring a large green fairy on the label (mostly full); (1) tiny silver hat, (1) tiny silver shoe, and (1) tiny silver motorcar (Monopoly pieces?); and finally (1) gold trophy that read WORST EVER. But no other people appeared to be present. Callie grabbed a bottle of water next to OK’s foot and chugged for as long as she could stand it. Then, sinking low onto the couch, she placed the bottom of the bottle against her forehead, hoping the cool plastic might relieve her aching head.

  Moments later Jessica began to stir. “What the—”

  “Shh!” Callie called, placing a finger to her lips while her best friend batted at the leafy fronds of the potted plant that had engulfed her.

  Using what felt like every last ounce of strength she could muster, Callie motioned at Jessica to join her on the couch.

  “What on earth,” Jessica started with a whisper, “happened to us last night?”

  Callie shrugged, pointing at the coffee table.

  Jessica peered under it and then clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the giggles induced by the sight of OK sporting only the latest campus headlines.

  Callie shook her head and then handed Jess the water bottle, which she accepted gratefully. After gulping some down, Jessica tilted her head at Matt. “Did you see us…?” she mouthed.

  “Did I see you WHAT?” Callie mouthed back.

  “You know,” Jess whispered. Then, closing her eyes, she mimed passionately making out with the nearest pillow.

  Trying desperately not to laugh, Callie whacked her best friend with another throw pillow. “Cut it out!” she whispered between whacks.

  “No, you cut it out!” Jessica retorted, yanking Callie’s pillow from her hands and then proceeding to beat her with both of them.

  Callie cried out, struggling to fend off the blows.

  “Omigawd, MY THIGHS!” came a sudden scream from near the door.

  “Thighs,” Adam mumbled in his sleep, rolling over in the dress. “I prefer the breast, please. Chicken, of course.”

  Callie and Jessica froze, staring first at Adam and then at Vanessa, who, having woken, gazed down at her thighs in horror. “Who did this?” she demanded of Jessica, whose head was visible over the edge of the couch. Callie gasped with laughter from where she lay trapped under the pillows below.

  “Beats me,” Jessica replied in a whisper, letting Callie up.

  “Callie?” Vanessa said, fixing her with a death-glare.

  Still overcome with silent giggles, Callie shrugged and then pointed behind the couch.

  Instead of attempting to stand, Vanessa hauled herself up on all fours and crawled over. Spotting Dana, her expression turned livid. “Why that little—”

  Vanessa stopped abruptly as Dana twitched. Rolling over again, Adam mumbled, “But it’s not little, in fact, according to Wikipedia….” Eyes still shut tight, he yawned. “Perfectly average…”

  Catching each other’s eye, Jessica and Callie burst, once more, into mostly silent laughter. Vanessa turned to them sharply. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Not another sound! Now hold still,” she instructed, sliding the red permanent marker out of Dana’s hand, “while I teach this little…studier a lesson….” With a worrisome gleam in her eye she uncapped the pen. “Congratulations,” she said breathlessly, brushing a brown lock of Dana’s hair off her forehead. “You’re about to become the newest member of the Pen fifteen club.”

  Before Callie could say something to stop her, Dana’s eyes flew open. “What in heaven’s name are you—Cease that this instant!” she snapped, batting the tip of the pen away from her forehead, where Vanessa had managed to draw the long line of a P.

  Frowning, Vanessa wielded the pen over Dana like a dagger. “An eye for an eye, just like Jesus said!” she stated in hushed tones.

  Dana stared at her. “What are you talking about? Jesus never said that.”

  “What am I talking about?” Vanessa echoed. “This,” she said, gesturing at her thighs. Her eyes grew wide as she appeared to notice the marks on her arm for the first time. “And these!”

  Callie glanced over her shoulder to see if Vanessa’s cries had roused the boys, but neither OK nor Matt had moved, and Adam, though occasionally mumbling unintelligibly, still seemed fast asleep.

  Dana shook her head, looking just as furious at Vanessa. “You don’t remember, do you? This is precisely why you should be practicing abstinence!”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Vanessa retorted, “but I’m. Still. A VIRGIN!”

  “Virgin?” a hoarse male voice called from over in the corner near the potted plant. “Where? What? Why are you yelling?” Matt continued, sitting up and rubbing his head. “And has anyone seen my keys?”

  “Ugh!” exclaimed Vanessa. “I’m yelling because Dana drew all over me while I was sleeping!”

  “I seem to recall that you were awake while that was happening,” Matt said slowly, squinting around the room. “And that you asked her to do it. Now what did I do with those keys…?” he mumbled, emptying his pockets with no success.

  Dana smiled smugly. “Abstinence with regard to alcohol,” she said primly, nudging a nearby empty bottle with her foot. “Although I am quite surprised—pleasantly, I should say—to learn of your hymenal sanctity.”

  “I agree,” said Matt to a dumbstruck Vanessa. “I mean—about the alcohol! We all probably went a little overboard this weekend.” Catching sight of Jessica, his cheeks grew pink. “I mean, not that it wasn’t nice—a nice time with…everyone. I’m just saying we maybe went overboard. Not that I wouldn’t do it again. Because I would. I mean, not everything, just—”

  Callie shook her head at him.

  “So…I actually asked you to do this to me?” Vanessa said, turning to Dana.

  Dana nodded. “Yes. It was right after you and Mimi put on the bathing suits—”

  “Meemeeee…”

  Jessica giggled, pointing at OK, whose fingers had just fluttered.

  “Say,” Callie interrupted, “where is Mimi, anyway?”

  “Meemeeee.” Strange gargling noises emanated from OK’s throat, his lips smushed down against the floor. However, apart from his fingers nothing else had moved.

  “I don’t know. But like I was saying,” Dana continued, speaking to Vanessa, “you started going on and on about how you wish you knew more songs about science. And then you asked me to sing you some, and I said I didn’t know any. So then you asked me jus
t to teach you more about science, but we didn’t have any paper—and that’s when you told me to draw on you.”

  “Is this true?” Vanessa asked the others, though, from her guilty expression, the memory appeared to have already resurfaced.

  Dana, still slumped against the back of the couch, glared at her. “Ask Adam if you don’t believe me! Unless he did the smart thing and slept in my room for the night like I suggested.”

  “Uh…” Callie exchanged a look with Jessica. The couch currently blocked Dana’s and Vanessa’s view of the rest of the room, and given that neither had moved, aiming pens at one another like warheads, neither had spotted Adam. Yet.

  “About that,” Jessica jumped in.

  “What?” Dana demanded, suddenly alert. Her spider sense with regard to mischief must be tingling.

  Callie made a face. “Maybe you should—”

  “What the…heck!” Dana had finally spotted her boyfriend. Though, at the moment, perhaps the term lady friend was more appropriate. Briefly she closed her eyes and appeared to be whispering some sort of prayer. “Adam!” she finally shrieked. “Adam, wake up this instant!”

  “Oh—good morning,” he said, springing into sitting position as if he’d been awake the entire time. “Dana, my darling, last night I had the strangest dream.”

  Dana gaped at him while the others looked on, momentarily stunned.

  “I dreamed I was wrapped in robes of the finest silk,” he continued, speaking, as he had a way of doing from time to time, like a middle-aged man trapped in the body of a prepubescent-sized boy. “They were roomy and airy and delightfully comfortable, like floating in a cloud, and then a wizard asked me if I would like to buy some chicken, but when I licked my lips, they tasted like cherries. Bright red cherries. And I was tall—several inches taller than I…”

  He finally seemed to notice the women’s shoes on his feet. “Huh,” he said, tilting his head. “That’s odd. I thought I took those off before I turned in for the evening.”

  “Odd?” Dana repeated. “Odd? Adam Nichols, have you been drinking?”

  Shrinking away toward the pink wig and purse lying near the television, Adam held up his hands. “No. Not since…last night?” His voice cracked on the final phrase.

  “What—were you—clearly not thinking—” Dana sputtered.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “But you fell asleep right after you insisted you were staying to make sure nobody committed any unforgivable curses—I mean sins!—and then they started playing that game,” he explained, pointing at the Jenga blocks on the table. “And it looked sort of fun. See, red blocks are dares, green blocks are truths, and for the neutral-colored blocks you get to write in your own dares. Every time you choose a block, you have to try not to knock down the tower—and drink. Those were the, uh, rules?”

  Dana folded her arms across her chest.

  “Rules are…rules,” said Adam lamely.

  “Oh yeah,” Matt called, looking from the Jenga blocks to Adam’s outfit. “That dare was my idea! ‘If you picked this block, you have to cross dress!’” He laughed but quickly shut up as Dana rounded on him. Then, marching over to Adam, she held out her hands. “Come on, get up. We can discuss this later, after you’ve changed.”

  Standing in the pumps, Adam was, for the first time, taller than Dana.

  “Hey, these things are a lot easier to walk in than I thought they’d be,” he mused as he followed her toward his bedroom. “I wonder if—”

  “Don’t even think about it!” she cut him off, ushering him over to his dresser and opening the top drawer.

  “We played Jenga last night?” Jessica whispered to Callie.

  “I asked Dana to teach me SCIENCE?” Vanessa added, her head still poking up from behind the couch.

  “Oh jeez,” said Callie. “I wonder what else…?”

  Near the potted plant Matt stretched and then stood. Ambling over, he plopped onto his common room’s second leather couch, eyeing the three girls warily. “One thing in particular stands out,” he blurted, seeming to avoid looking at Jessica. “But the rest is all a bit blurry….”

  “Pants!” they heard Dana cry from Adam’s bedroom. He sat on the bottom bunk, appearing reluctant to change. “Which drawer?”

  “Hey!” said Vanessa, spotting the pair of pants plus suspenders on the floor. “I found them!”

  “Those aren’t mine,” said Adam, coming out of his room with his dress unzipped and stockings pooled around his ankles. He still wore the high heels.

  “Get back here!” they heard Dana snap from inside. “To think what this could do to your political career if anyone were to see or document—”

  “All right, all right,” Adam conceded, retreating back into his room. “Second to last drawer.”

  “If these aren’t Adam’s,” said Vanessa, lifting the pants, “then who do they belong to?”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Matt, gesturing at his jeans. “Maybe they’re the property of his highness? Oh, your highness!” he called suddenly, giving OK’s calf a gentle kick.

  OK didn’t budge.

  “Oh, wow,” said Matt, bending down. “I can see his highness’s royal heinie.” Grimacing, he rearranged the newspapers, which had slipped.

  “He’s not, like, dead or anything, is he?” Vanessa asked, crawling over the back of the couch and sitting next to Jessica.

  “Meemeeee,” OK grunted into the floor.

  Chuckling, Matt tickled OK’s feet. “Time to wake up, your majesty….”

  “Hooo-yah!” OK cried suddenly, shooting up and knocking the back of his head against the coffee table. “Wah-owwwww!” he wailed.

  “Don’t look!” Callie cried, crossing her arms and throwing one hand over Jessica’s eyes and the other over Vanessa’s before closing her own. OK had rolled out from under the coffee table, leaving the newspapers behind.

  “Oh, come on,” said Jessica, giggling, “No fair—”

  “Please,” they heard OK say, “to think I would be caught dead in skinny jeans. Though the suspenders do add a nice bit of flair.”

  Callie heard the low, squeaking sound that bare skin makes against leather, followed by Matt’s cry of: “Dude! Other people have to sit there.”

  Callie opened her eyes. Vanessa and Jessica looked on delightedly as OK spread another sheet of newspaper over his crotch like a loin cloth. “This just in,” he said, emphasizing his accent. “Breaking news: I rather enjoy the way the leather feels against my ballsack.”

  “Ahh!” the girls screamed, breaking into more giggles. Matt buried his face in his hands.

  Callie apologized to Jessica. “I swear to god this doesn’t happen every weekend.”

  “Actually,” said Matt, “it kind of does.”

  “What can I say?” said OK. “I like to take my tea in the nude.”

  Jessica howled with laughter.

  “Speaking of nude,” said Vanessa, “if you’re not going to put those on, maybe I will,” she said, picking up the pants. “I’m feeling a little bit…exposed,” she added, surveying her thighs.

  “Time for church!” a voice chirped from over their shoulders.

  Turning, they saw Dana with Adam in tow. She had restored his normal clothing, but he still looked as frazzled as she appeared furious.

  “You can’t go!” Callie cried as they headed for the front door. “We need someone to stay and force OK to put clothes on!”

  “Yeah and—”

  “Have fun, you two!” Vanessa interrupted Jessica, clapping a hand on her knee.

  “Wait!” Jessica cried, shaking off Vanessa. “You still have pen—and lipstick—on your faces!”

  “Oh, boo,” said Vanessa, pouting. “You’re no fun.”

  Dana stopped in her tracks, wheeling around to face Adam. “How did I not notice…? Why didn’t you tell me I have…Ugh!” Looking livid, she pushed open the bathroom door. Soon the sound of running water met their ears.

  Callie hoped, for Adam’s sake, that
Dana was being gentle—though from the sound of it, she was taking her frustration out on his face, one violent washcloth rub at a time.

  Leaning in, Vanessa whispered, “And you say my relationship with Tyler was unhealthy….”

  “Ohmygod!” Callie blurted, her spine straightening suddenly.

  “What?” asked Jessica.

  “Your phone,” Callie said, staring at Vanessa. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vanessa. “Why?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling….” Callie muttered, heaving herself off the couch and casting around the room in search of Vanessa’s iPhone.

  “It can’t have gotten far,” Vanessa said with a yawn. “Brad and I are in kind of a codependent relationship.”

  “You named your phone Brad?” asked Jessica.

  “So what?” said Vanessa.

  “Want me to call it?” Matt volunteered, pulling his own phone out of his pocket.

  “Yes,” said Callie at the same time that Vanessa said, “Whatever.”

  The techno beats of Sexy Hansel’s latest single started thumping from somewhere near OK. He narrowed his eyes. A few more bars of the German pop star’s vocals confirmed that the phone was definitely underneath the cushion, the only thing separating it from OK’s behind.

  “Oh, get over it,” Vanessa said to an immobile OK.

  “No,” said OK, planting his feet. “Not until you admit that they are terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, talentless arseholes.”

  “I am very sorry that your high school girlfriend slash infamous socialite Sissy Smirnoff left you for the sexy manliness that is Sexy Hansel and that you still haven’t recovered,” Vanessa said cruelly.

  “That’s it!” cried OK, standing. The newspaper fluttered to the floor. “I’m about to go R. Kelly all over this thing,” he continued, lifting the couch cushion and standing above the phone.

  “It’s not a thing,” Vanessa shrieked. “It’s Brad—and stop—what are you—noooo!”

  “Matt—do something!” Callie yelled from the other side of the room.

  Shaking his head, Matt seized the phone. “Seriously, dude,” he said, “not on the couch.”