Palm South University: Season 2, Episode 5 (Palm South University #2)

by Kandi Steiner

  Dad just pulls me closer and Mom rubs my back, her sad eyes connecting with mine. He doesn’t have to say a word.

  The answer is in the silence.

  THE BEST THING ABOUT GOING to school in Florida is the spring weather. While the rest of the country is still battling with cold fronts and snow, we’re sitting pretty at eighty-five degrees under a partly-cloudy sky. There’s a light breeze rolling through the palm trees and Clayton inhales a deep breath, letting it go with a grin on his face. It’s the last day of Family Weekend, and as my little brother and I walk across campus to the College Showcase, I can’t help but smile along with him. It’s been amazing having him here.

  “We should do this more often,” I say, tossing my arm over his shoulder. “Maybe you could fly down for Shark Week this summer.”

  “That would be so awesome!” He shakes his head, eyes hidden behind Omega Chi branded sunglasses. “I can’t wait to go to college . . . to get out of Pittsburgh.”

  I squeeze his shoulder firmly before dropping my arm and tucking my hands in my pockets. “You’ll be out of there soon enough, little brother. Just try to stay focused on your grades and sports while you’re there. Set up your future.”

  He nods, squinting slightly as the sun peeks around a cloud. “I will.” When he turns to me, his expression is hard. “Once I leave, I’m never going back, Clinton.”

  I swallow, knowing exactly where he is right now. I remember the feeling. I thought the longer I was at Palm South, the more it would fade away, but I can still remember every minute of hating life when I was waiting for high school to end. “I know, baby brother. I don’t blame you. I only go back because you’re there.”

  Clayton’s brows furrow as we round the fountain and make our way toward the Student Union. “Our family sucks.”

  I offer a short laugh. “Yeah, unfortunately you can’t choose your blood family, but you’ll always have me.” Smiling, I nudge him. “And when you rush, you get to pick a whole new band of brothers—ones who also don’t suck. Then, one day, you’ll find a girl, and she’ll make all the other girls feel so obsolete. You’ll marry her, you’ll have kids, and then before you know it, you have your own family.” I adjust the backpack of beer on my back, pulling the straps down so it adjusts higher on my shoulders. “And it’ll be up to you, then, to make sure that family doesn’t suck like ours did.”

  Clayton smiles up at me, just a slight tug at the corner of his lips, but enough to let me know he needed to hear that. I pull him in for a noogie just as we reach the first row of tents outside the union. The fraternities and sororities always make up the entire first row, and when I spot Adam at the Alpha Sigma tent, I whistle through my teeth.

  “Glad to see you’re still alive after Spring Break, Brooks.” I clap him on the back and he flips me the bird, but with a smile. “This is my little brother, Clayton.”

  Adam shakes Clayton’s hand, lifting his sunglasses up into his hair. “Oh shit, there’s another generation of you? President Whittington is going to have a heart attack when your name comes across the admissions desk.”

  I chuckle. “Just wait until he realizes Clayton is rushing, too.”

  “God help us all.”

  We all laugh for a second before Adam breaks the conversation long enough to talk to the mom of a pledge. He hands her a few pamphlets about their founders and heritage and runs over their philanthropic events before she nods and smiles, letting her son lead her to the food set up behind the tent. When Adam turns back to us, his smile fades, his eyes adjusting on something behind us rather than on our faces. He flicks his sunglasses back down and I spin to see what he’s looking at. When I find Cassie, her parents, and Grayson laughing as they make their way down the line of tents, I turn to Adam again, narrowing my eyes.

  “Hey guys!” Cassie says cheerily when they reach us. I watch as her face transforms from ecstatic when she sees me to curious when she notices Clayton to absolutely terrified when she realizes Adam is behind us. Or maybe that’s nervous I’m seeing. Maybe both.

  Something is weird between those two.

  “Hey,” I greet, pulling her in for a hug. “Cassie, this is my little brother, Clayton.”

  Clayton reaches out for her hand, sliding his sunglasses down his nose just enough to peek at her over the top of the shades. “Well hello, Beautiful. You can call me Baby Bear. How do you feel about younger men, sweetheart?”

  Cassie’s mom blushes and covers her smile as her dad lets out a loud belly laugh. Her dad is odd-looking, sporting the same fiery red hair that Cassie has except with bronze skin and not a freckle in sight. Her mom, on the other hand, has light blonde hair and green eyes with pale skin, the apples of her cheeks peppered with freckles. It’s like Cassie is literally the perfect mix of the two.

  “Damn, I need to step up my game,” Grayson says, reaching out his hand to shake Clayton’s next. “Sorry, Baby Bear, but this little lady is taken at the moment.”

  Clayton shrugs. “We’ll see what the story is in four-and-a-half years when I turn eighteen.” Cassie’s parents laugh again, but Adam’s mouth is still in a thin line, his eyes hard on where Cassie’s hand is grasped firmly in Grayson’s.

  I introduce myself to Cassie’s parents next and then they turn to Adam, expectant. He shifts, gripping the fliers in his hand a little too tightly as Cassie finally clears her throat. “Mom, Dad, this is Adam Brooks. He’s going to be the president of Alpha Sigma next year.”

  Adam forces a smile, one that’s all teeth and charming as fuck. The kid is good, but I can still see that he’s hiding something. I knew the night of the Fratalina Wine Mixer. He’s lucky he was smart enough to call it off with Skyler. “Well, we’ll see. Elections haven’t happened yet.”

  “We all know it’ll be you,” Cassie says again with a sweet smile, but her eyes look stressed, too, as they connect with Adam’s.

  We chat for a while in what feels like a pleasant manner, though Adam, Cassie and I feel the awkward tension that lies beneath it. After Grayson tells Cassie’s dad how he works to pay for his tuition and everyone leans in for more, Adam excuses himself to go talk to a group of Alpha Sigma parents, but not until he and Cassie share another glance that says nothing but screams something fucked up all at once.

  I catch Cassie’s eyes with my own after Adam’s gone and she flushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looping her arm through Grayson’s, her attention snapping back to him. It’s then that I notice a familiar face at a tent two rows over behind Cassie.

  A familiar face, but that’s all that’s familiar about her.

  Shawna’s once-purple hair is now all black, falling straight down to her shoulders where it curls in soft waves. Her glasses are replaced with contacts, her normally casual and grungy style opted out in exchange for a knee-length white skirt and light yellow, button-up blouse. She’s even wearing wedges, which I didn’t realize she owned at all. Still, even with the changes, she’s fucking gorgeous, and a shit-eating grin spreads on my face at the sight of her.

  “Be right back,” I murmur to Clayton before sprinting across the union to the tent she and who I assume are her parents are gathered around. I’m light on my feet, careful to watch the angle at which I approach. When I know I’m safe and she hasn’t seen me, I close the distance and scoop her into my arms from behind, spinning her around. She squeals, but not in the way I wanted, before wriggling out of my arms. I drop her gently to the ground and kiss her cheek, but she backs away quickly, her cheeks hot, a nervous smile on her face.

  “Hi, Clinton,” she says, her bright green eyes darting to her parents before reconnecting with mine. “It’s nice to see you.”

  “It’s nice to see you,” I respond with a chuckle. She must be joking, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her be so formal. Realizing maybe it’s her parents, I throw her a wink and slip on my professional face. “Sir, ma’am, my name is Clinton Pennington.”

  I extend my right hand to her father first, but his eyes don’t le
ave his daughter and my hand remains empty. Her mother reaches her dainty hand across her husband to give mine a light squeeze. “Pleasure, dear. And how do you two know each other?” She phrases the question to her daughter, not to me. Neither of them will look at me.

  “Oh we’re just project partners in art class, Momma. Clinton is actually really great. He’s got a lot of talent.”

  Her parents’ brows shoot up in synchrony, their lips tight, but satisfied at their daughter’s response. It’s as if their eyebrows have a direct connection to my stomach—they rise, my stomach falls.

  What the fuck is happening.

  “I have a lot of talent, do I?” I don’t even bother hiding my sarcasm as I snap the question at Shawna. All the little pieces are clicking into place as my heart rate accelerates, my nose flaring along with the beat.

  “Momma, Daddy, I’ll be right back. Clinton and I need to discuss an assignment that’s due this week. Why don’t I meet you at the alumni tent?”

  They both nod, their eyes raking me disapprovingly once more before Shawna pulls me in the opposite direction. I barely let them get out of earshot before I rip away from her grasp.

  “What the fuck was that, Shawna?” I seethe. “Your project partner? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Bear, please.”

  “Oh, now I’m Bear to you. What, that didn’t sound as impressive to say to Mommy and Daddy? I guess I can thank my deadbeat dad for his last name, at least.”

  “Stop!” she screams, her eyes glossing over. She’s never seen this side of me before. “You don’t understand.”

  “Clearly. Although, I’d love to hear your explanation. Please,” I scoff, motioning my hand toward her before crossing my arms over my chest. Her bottom lip quivers as I close myself off to her, and it’s almost enough to make me apologize.

  “My parents are old-fashioned . . .” She trails off, eyes on her fingers as she wrings them together. “We’re from Mississippi, and where I grew up, there weren’t many . . . there wasn’t much . . . diversity.”

  She peeks up at me through her lashes, brows furrowed, eyes guilty and ashamed. It takes me a moment to understand as I squint at her, the sun beaming behind her black hair, framing her in a silhouette. When the anchor drops, pulling my chest along with it, I have to force a breath.

  “It’s because I’m black.”

  Shawna cringes, one arm crossing her chest as the other lifts her hand to cover her mouth. I watch as her eyes fill to the brim with tears, but I feel no urge to soothe her.

  “They hate me already because of the color of my skin, don’t they?”

  Shawna just shakes her head, refusing to answer my question and answering it all the same.

  I lick my bottom lip against a manic smile, clenching my fists where they’re still crossed over my chest. “And you?”

  “What about me?” she asks softly, her brows pinched in confusion.

  “Do you have an opinion about me based on my race?”

  “What? No!” Two tears stream out of her left eye, one after the other, the stream falling vertically before breaking right at her jaw line. “I thought that was obvious.”

  “Then tell them.” I point two fingers straight over at where her parents are standing at the alumni tent, not even bothering to see if they’re looking at us. “Walk over to them right now and tell them what you told me last week. Tell them you’re falling in love with me. Tell them I’m not your project partner, I’m your boyfriend.”

  She chokes on a sob, biting her lips together. “I can’t.” She hiccups the words, just above a whisper. “Please, just let me explain.”

  “I think I’ve heard plenty.” I don’t look at her again before walking straight past her back to the Alpha Sigma tent. I can’t look at her. Still, I hear her calling my name as I stride, her tears breaking on the one harsh syllable.

  “Who was that,” Clayton asks as I hook my hand around his elbow, pulling him away from the A Sig tent. I’m on a mission to find my own brothers now. It’s been a long time since I’ve drowned myself in a bottle of liquor to find the numb I used to crave so often, but I feel that same want creeping into my bloodstream now.

  “No one.”

  “No one,” Clayton deadpans, struggling to keep up with me. “So, you ran up and wrapped your arms around her, but you don’t know her?”

  His words dig into my chest like a rusty butter knife and I suck in a breath, desperate for air, for relief.

  “Not anymore.”

  I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT OF ERIN as the mom of our group. She’s the one who has her head on straight, the one with the conscience, the one who knows what to wear and what to say and what not to drink. But she’s been absent since Spring Break, tied up in executive board shit half the time and tied up in Landon the other half. I’ve barely seen her, other than the awkward twenty minutes with her and her real mom, and I’m not even sure she knows what happened last night between Jess and Ashlei. Which means it’s my turn to step up to the plate and put on my mom pants.

  Jess hasn’t moved out of her bed all day, so I’m not surprised when I push through our bedroom door and see her still buried under the covers. It’s just after five in the evening, the campus slowly draining itself of parents. Jess’ didn’t even bother sticking around for today’s events, they just left me some cash for Jess and told me to send their love. They assume she’s hungover, but I know the truth—she’s feeling guilty.

  As she should.

  I leave the big light out, but click on the small lamp on my bedside table before climbing into bed next to Jess. She doesn’t fight me, just lets me slide under the sheets until we’re nose-to-nose. I’m silent for a moment, noting the smeared mascara around her tired brown eyes.

  “I brought wine,” I finally say, reaching into the bag I pulled under the covers with us. The brown paper crinkles as I reveal a sweet moscato.

  Jess cringes. “Get that away from me.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to drink anymore?” I nod, twisting off the top. Buying a bottle that needed a cork popped would have alerted Mom Cindy. I lift the bottle to my lips, shrugging. “I was so sure you were hell-bent on drinking yourself into stupidity.”

  “I think I already hit that town last night.”

  “I think you stayed in a hotel overnight and they named the city after you.”

  She sighs, sniffling as her eyes connect with mine. “I get it, okay?”

  “I don’t think you do, Jess.”

  She throws the covers off of us in a huff, the cool air rushing in. “If you came here to lecture me, you can get the fuck out.”

  “It’s my room, too.”

  “Don’t be a bitch.”

  “Me?”

  She groans, snatching a pillow up and covering her face with it. “You’re not going away, are you?” she mumbles. I just wait, taking another pull from the wine bottle until she tosses the pillow back down. She exhales like a horse, her lips flapping dramatically. “I fucked up.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “So now what?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Jess flips over to rest on her left elbow, her greasy blonde hair falling over her eyes. She brushes it back behind her ear slowly. “I was pissed, Skyler. They both hid that shit for who knows how long and then they get busted, on camera, and act like nothing happened. I’ve had to stick up for them against all of our sisters who are calling for them to be kicked out of KKB meanwhile I’m pissed at them, myself. And meanwhile, they’ve been like two fucking mice, not saying a word, not apologizing. It’s bullshit.”

  “What exactly are they supposed to be apologizing for?”

  “For lying! For, for . . .” she trails off, her hands waving wildly as she grasps for something else to be pissed about. “All of it!”

  Pressing my lips together, I lean up against the headboard of her bed and take another sip of the wine. When I offer it to Jess again, she grimaces and pushes it back toward me.

 
“Listen, they don’t have anything to be sorry for. So what if they’re in a relationship? It’s no different than you being in a relationship with your teacher and not telling any of us about it.”

  “We’re not in a relationship. And that’s different.”

  “You so are, and no, it’s not. And what, they’re supposed to be apologizing for getting caught on camera having sex with one lucky son-of-a-bitch on Spring Break? I hooked up last week, too. I could have been taped just as easily. They’re not at fault here, Jess.”

  “Oh, so I’m just some crazy mean bitch, then?”

  “Don’t be dramatic.”

  She eyes the bottle in my hand like she’s almost tempted to take a drink, but thinks better of it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she covers them with the heels of her hands and blows out a long, slow breath. “I was wasted.”

  “That’s still not an apology.”

  She huffs. “Fine, I was wrong.”

  I nod, satisfied, tipping the bottle back once more. “I’m glad you see it now, but I’m not the one you need to be saying that to.”

  She whimpers, falling forward until her head is in my lap. I run my fingers through her hair as she speaks into the covers, her voice muffled. “She hates me. They both do. Where do I even start?”

  “Just be honest with them, J-Love. And apologize, don’t make excuses. That’s all you can do. They’ll either forgive you or tell you to go to hell. Either way, you have to say you’re sorry—and mean it.”

  She swallows, but nods, leaning up to face me again. “I should go find Ashlei.”

  Wrinkling my nose, I eye the shirt she was wearing last night paired with underwear that could have that same reputation for all I know. “You should shower first.”

  Jess laughs, smacking me with a pillow, but then her mouth pulls to the side. She leans into me, wrapping her lean arms around me and leaning her head on my shoulder. I hold her for a minute, trying to be the strength she needs. “Thank you, Skyler.”

  Petting her hair, I offer a reassuring smile. “What are sisters for?”