"That still sounds too wordy. It has to sell. It has to catch people's attention," Marisol said. "If we decided to go with that."
"I like it," Chantel said, taking note. "We could work on making the title prettier, but the idea is compelling."
"Cool," Tate said. "Let's do it."
"Marisol?" Mia questioned, glaring back at her. "Any more objections? I dare you to say something else. I dare you."
"Whatever. Go with his idea. I'm still a princess," Marisol said. "That never changes."
The back door of the auditorium slammed against the wall, making everyone jump. They turned around to look at the thoughtless intruder striding down the back isle. Eric glanced down at all of them, scanning their faces until he found Chantel's.
Then he found a seat in the back of the auditorium. Chantel and the others watched appalled as he took his laptop out and leaned back in his seat. He offered no apology or explanation. He acknowledged no one.
When it finally occurred to everyone that he intended to stay, they turned away from him, but Chantel stared up at him from her seat at the bottom of the auditorium, loathing every move he made. At length, his hazel eyes glanced up from his computer screen to meet hers, but only briefly. He sighed, agitated by the attention they were giving him, but made no attempt to leave. He endured their presence just as they would have to endure his. He didn't look up again as he made himself busy typing.
"I thought we were done with this last semester," Marisol whispered to Chantel. "This is bullshit."
"Excuse me!" Mia called back to Eric. "We're having a meeting. We have this room reserved until 2 o'clock. Can you wait outside, please?"
Eric didn't answer her. None of them existed to him anymore.
"What an asshole," Mia snapped, not caring whether he heard her or not.
"Don't worry about it right now. He doesn't know how to be anything but a dick," Chantel said lowering her voice so only they could hear her. "We're almost out of time anyway. Let's just finish what we got to do here and go."
"No, fuck that," Tate protested. "He needs to learn how to respect other people. I don't care who he is or where he came from. We pay for this room out of pocket every semester. Unless he's putting down ends to sit in that seat, he needs to get out or I'll show him out."
"Just let it go, Tate," Chantel told him.
"Then you'd better do something about it, Chant, or I will. He doesn't do shit around here. He's not even a Journalism major, and I thought that was one of the requirements of being here. Where's his application? None of us saw it. I never saw anything with his name on it. He needs to leave."
"Robert said he met the requirements," Chantel replied.
"How? Did anyone else actually see his application? Has anyone seen any of his writing? He doesn't submit any monthly work, which is also a requirement to stay in this club. He's apparently not here to contribute to our meetings. So why is he here?"
"I'm just going by what Robert said," Chantel replied.
"Ya, but what do you say?" Marisol asked. "Forget what Robert's talking about. You're the president. You can have him ejected if you really wanted to."
"In order to eject a member, we'd have to start a petition, but he also has a right to write a statement in his defense."
"He doesn't belong here and no one wants him here. There's your petition," Tate said.
"I don't mean to agree with Tate, but I agree with Tate," Marisol said. "All he's done for the past two semesters is sit in every meeting with a laptop and not say anything. He doesn't do fundraisers. He doesn't submit articles. He doesn't do our off campus activities. Everyone agreed to make those commitments when they applied to this club. And yet, Robert just turns his head and pretends it's not happening. Have you even talked to Robert about this?"
"No, I haven't. He's been busy lately with his study abroad program in Costa Rica. But I trust him to know what he's doing," Chantel answered.
"Tara would have been all over that. When she was president, she took care of her shit. You've got some big shoes to fill, Miss Pari. I hope you can handle it," Marisol glared at Chantel.
"Hey, hey, none of that in here," Tate defended. "Let's keep last semester's drama out of the kitchen. Chantel's president now, so you better check yourself."
"Did anyone ask your opinion, trailer trash?" Marisol shot back.
"Guys!" Chantel shouted. "Chill out! This is immature and unprofessional. I feel like I'm in high school again. Everyone just shut up!"
The back door slammed again, hushing everyone in the room. They looked to the back of the auditorium but the agitation was no longer there. Eric had slipped out without anyone noticing.
"Did that just happen?" Chantel remarked, as perplexed as they all were about it.
"He's tutoring a class at 2," Mia explained. "That's why he left."
"How do you know that? You and the creep got a connection going on now?" Tate questioned.
"I know because I'm in that class. It's a German class."
"You're taking German now? Since when? And why?"
"Why not? Foreign language requirement."
Marisol closed her eyes, pressing her index and thumb fingers at her ears. "Santa Maria, pray for us," she whispered. After she'd taken a deep breath, she said, "All I'm saying is somebody better talk to dude. Just because he's one of the few white boy assholes on campus”—She shot a look at Tate—“He thinks he's fucking Jesus. As president, I think it's your job to handle that, and if you can't, you need to hand the job back to someone who can."
"If anybody's leaving this club, it's you," Tate started up again, unable to stand by while Chantel was under fire. "Your writing sucks, and when do you ever do off campus activities. This isn't about Chantel. It's the fact that he dumped your whore of a best friend when he found out it wasn't his baby. That's what this is about. So you need to back off of Chantel. She's doing the best she can right now rebuilding our reputation as a serious magazine after Tara dragged her drama into it. She could've done us all a favor and kept her knees shut, then we wouldn't be dealing with what's going on now."
Marisol's jaw dropped.
"Surprise, surprise, huh?" Tate declared. "Every guys had some of that, and I was the first one tapping it."
"Tara never said anything about being pregnant!" Marisol cried. "That was a lie!"
"Madam, indeed," Tate said, rolling his eyes. “So she’s a whore and a baby killer.”
"She not pregnant! She has diabetes! It's rude to call people fat when you don't even know their situation!" Marisol shrieked. "And FYI, she went out with you in charity because you had such a pathetically sad weenis and her friend dared her to do it! You just can't get over how insecure you are and that's why you’re always on her ass about it!"
"Fuck, I guess so, huh," Tate said, smiling. He grabbed his bag and started out the door.
"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!" Marisol screamed, snatching her bag and running after him. "Tate! You fucking asshole!"
"Slut!"
"Goat humper!"
Her threats echoed in the halls outside as she charged after him, and the door slammed shut behind her.
"Seriously, they should just get a room already and go out. This is why we can't get nothing done," Mia said irritably, helping Chantel pack up.
"Agreed," Chantel replied with a deep sigh, gathering her notebooks. "I guess that means meeting is adjourned, Vera, if you want to go save your brother."
"Neh," Vera said, walking out. "Let Mari kick his ass. See you next week."
Mia waited until the door closed again before saying, "I really wanted to talk to you about Eric now that Mari is gone," she told Chantel. "You can't say anything about him around her. You know Tara's keeping tabs on him through Mari."
"I love you. You're my best friend. I'll listen to anything you have to say, but my stress levels are through the roof right now. Do we have to talk about Eric right this moment?"
"Ya, because I am your best friend, and if something's
going on, I think I should know about it, or at least be aware of it so I know how to approach you both," Mia said.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's just starting to worry me now that he's always here and never says anything to anyone. I'm sure other people are starting to pick up on it too. When he's in this room, the only time he ever looks up is to look at you," Mia told her. "I know. Weird, right? So I started watching him, in class and around campus, and there are certain things I discovered that raised some questions."
"Ok, not sure where you're going with this, but go on," Chantel said. "What questions?"
"Well, I guess just one question, mainly," Mia replied. "Are you and Eric, like, a thing? Like together together?"
"What!" Chantel cried. "Girl, don't play. Who told you that?"
"No one did, but are you two an item?"
"No. No. And absolutely no. Why would you even ask that? About him? Seriously? Him? Are you crazy?"
"Ya, I know. Crazy, right? But things change, you know," she said. "It's been over a year since that whole ordeal. I mean, if not, then ok. I was wrong. I'm sorry for bringing it up. But if you are, you should be careful if it's under the radar. People are starting to notice."
"Notice what?" Chantel replied. "I don't even know Eric like that! I haven't spoken to him since last year. What would make you even think that me and him...ugh, I can't even finish that sentence."
"You mean you haven't noticed it?" Mia asked. "At first it was subtle, but now it's just plain obvious."
"Enlighten me," Chantel said, smiling. "Please. I've got to hear this absurd theory. Nothing better would make my day."
"Eric's stalking you."
"Why would he do that?"
"I don't know. I thought you might know," Mia said. "He seems to show up everywhere you are. First at our meetings, and then in the cafeteria."
"Eric never eats in the cafeteria."
"I know, right? But he did. And then, last week when we were putting together the magazine in the library after class, he was in the isles with his laptop open at a table next to us."
"That sounds perfectly normal."
"Ya but the past two weeks, he's been hanging out by our last class. He and his friends migrated from the Business building to that bench by our literature seminar. And the other day, I was on my way to the gym, and saw you reading at the fountain. He was there too having a smoke by a tree. He just kept looking at you and I thought that was odd. Then when you got up to go to your car, he followed you. He walked right by you as you unlocked your door. The funny thing is he actually parks on the other side of campus, so his reason for being there raised some questions."
"I saw him that day," Chantel recalled. "He did walk by my car. He gave me this weird look, like he was analyzing me or something, and kept walking. But he always looks at me that way. I just ignore him. It's probably just chance. Coincidence."
"I'm not saying it wouldn't be cute. I mean it'd be totally ok if you guys were going out after everything that happened between you two. But I don't know, you'd think he would've talked to you by now if he wanted to ask you out. I mean it has been a year already."
"It's not cute," Chantel declared. "It's creepy."
"So you've got a stalker," Mia teased. "But lucky for you, it's not Robert or Tate following you around campus. That would be awkward."
"Right, that would be awkward, but this is actually really scary. Eric is scary. You know what he's like."
"Ya, I know how he is, but me and him talk sometimes."
"Mia, what are you doing?"
"I know. I asked myself the same question. But he showed up at our LGBT booth last semester and I thought he was going to start something, but he was kind of cool about it, even though I think he gritted his teeth the whole time. He asked a lot of questions about 'the gay way', as he put it. Despite the fact that he believed gayness is a lifestyle choice, he did actually seem interested to learn about 'how it works', as he put it."
"It doesn't mean he's a good person," Chantel informed her.
"Well aside from all the KKK shit, he was actually pretty smart. We had a decent conversation. And despite the depressing way he dresses, he does have a cute smile going for him. I heard his family's pretty well off in Colorado. Supposedly, they own a few big vineyards here in California, as well as a couple of ranches back home, but that could just be Tara exaggerating. Anything she says is irrelevant."
"I really don't care what his family owns. He's Tara's ex, he calls me nigger, and he's a freak," Chantel replied. "That's three strikes. If he's still stuck on what happened a year ago, that's his problem, but he really doesn't want to mess with me. I don't play that."
"Dude, chill. Maybe it isn't really about all that," Mia said. "Maybe Eric just likes you."
"He isn't capable of that. How many times did he make me feel like shit? How many times did he make everyone feel like shit?" Chantel argued. "People like that are not capable of liking anything. They're angry, hateful, ignorant, racist bastards. It's never going to end. It's never going to happen between us."
"Who told you he was racist?" Mia asked in interest.
"Who thinks he isn't racist?" Chantel replied. "Everything he does and says is white power this, white power that. Weren't you there that semester? You know what he said to me."
"So he was a little ethnocentric, but you got to admit that it's calmed down the past year he's been here. He doesn't talk as much now. In theater, we're doing this German workshop for Tristan and Isolde, and he came in to help us with the German in the play for extra credit. I thought he was really nice. He didn't say anything racist to anyone. He was just there to help out. Did you know he's German? Like real German. Not the processed American kind. His mom is straight from Bremen, where he was born. A European guy. Score, right? It was actually interesting listening to him talk about the differences between here and Germany."
"Oh yes, the fact that he's German makes me feel so much better," Chantel answered.
"You know, black people can be racist too sometimes," Mia pointed out. "You should get to know him a little better before you judge.”
"I know who Eric is. I don't need to know anymore. I don't want to know anymore. I'm already regretting having to talk to him about this club thing."
"If you don't want him, I have other single girlfriends," Mia told her.
"Seriously, don't force that curse on some innocent bystander. Stay away from him. He's crazy," Chantel warned her. "He has two out of three signs of a psychopath. He's egotistical, egocentric, and thinks he's the best shit on campus. He can play all of you the way he wants, but I've seen the real Eric. He's terrifying. He's the type of guy that would go out on a date with you one night, and show up with a riffle the next morning. Now you're telling me he's been stalking me the past few months? That's seriously nothing to play around with. He could be up to something."
"Like what? Murder? You think too much into things, my lovely," Mia chuckled. "I got to get to class though. Next Thursday then? Oh, and watch yourself out there in the halls. Who knows what could happen?"
Chantel didn't find it funny at all.
The Subtle Things
The things Chantel said about Eric Chandler were often secondhand accounts, and it was Mia's own face to face encounters with him that left a lasting impression on her. No matter how hard she tried to sympathize with her friend's vision of the rabid loathing racist, Mia couldn't see that in Eric anymore. That's not to say that he hadn't been one before, but in the time she'd spent talking to him in German class, she began to see that part less, as another side of his personality began to reveal itself. As an ex-Psychology major, Mia didn't believe that anyone could be completely evil, even Eric, and she was open to seeing the good in him.
However, Chantel was determined to see the monster, and refused to acknowledge that there could be anything good about him. His irrational hatred of everyone was a good enough reason for her to stay away. Yet, Mia was willing to give Eric the bene
fit of the doubt, and attributed his antisocial behavior to a case of cultural shock. Naturally, when one lives in a place where only one kind of norm exists, there will probably be unwarranted assumptions about people outside that norm. Being immersed into a place where cultures differed from his own may have reasonably put Eric on guard, and that is a normal response for anyone introduced to something outside their comfort zone. Mia believed this had to be the reason why he had lashed out at people during his first semester in California. It could have been a defense mechanism.
What else could explain the gradual change in Eric's attitude as that year went on? She could think of no other reason as to why he was suddenly treating people like people. Or at least, why he began to treat her like a person. It had gotten to a point where he even greeted her regularly when they passed each other on campus. He would even step aside and give her the right of way when the sidewalk was too narrow for both of them. It was a minimal gesture of politeness, but it was more than he'd ever done for her a year ago.
Though Chantel refused to see it, Mia strongly believed that somehow, some way Eric was changing.
A change came over Chantel too those next few weeks, but that change had been for the worst. Mia soon regretted ever mentioning her suspicions about Eric to Chantel. Her best friend truly believed that she was in some kind of danger, and the paranoia tormented her every time she walked outside the safety of a classroom. She constantly looked over her shoulder, and never went anywhere alone if she could help it. Once upon a time, she was a secure and confident woman, but the fear of being stalked like prey made her jumpy. She took each careful step with doubt and unease, hypersensitive to every footstep and loud bang in the halls.
Mia laughed it off the first couple of times, but then it got old and cumbersome, and she was desperate to shut Chantel up about it. In an effort to put her friend at ease, she told Chantel that she had made the whole stalking story up. It was all just a means to get a reaction out of her. When Chantel wouldn't buy it, Mia got annoyed and informed her timid friend to "get over herself' and realize that Eric had a life and better things to do than chase someone like her around. When Chantel asked what she meant by "someone like her", Mia dropped the subject.
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