Greek: Best Frenemies (10 page)

Rebecca considered this. “Look, I know I can seem super-independent, but the truth is…the house matters to me. And I don't want to put up with what this house will put me through if I drop out. That's why I'm not dropping out. And because I'm not a quitter. Even if it means sacrificing my dignity.”

“Which we're already addressing.”

“Which we're already addressing. So no more muffins.”

“Except if we eat them. Which, red food coloring, gross.”

“It's not a natural color for baked goods,” Rebecca agreed.

“People did get on board last time we snubbed the Omegas for the Lambda Sigs, but I don't know if they'll be willing to do that again, especially after what it did to the house standing.”

“At least our house is still standing.”

“And yes, I would like to get through one conversation without an arson reference. The point is, you could get people excited about snubbing the contest if you wanted to.”

“An object in motion is more likely to stay in motion than to flip around. Anyway, the point is I'm not changing horses in midsteam. Oh, my God, did I just use an awful old-timey political ad-campaign slogan?”

Casey giggled. “Maybe.”

“Then this is already a disaster if that's what I've devolved into, but I'm not willing to lead people away from it. Too much work. Just tell Ashleigh to tell them to tone it down. Come up with some rules reason, like they can devote only so
many hours to the contest or be disqualified. Who reads the rules? I don't think Omega Chi even makes them public.”

“Okay, can do. But what about the actual contest?”

“I have to give a speech on Saturday, right? It can be anything I want?”

“Aside from racial slurs and demonic incantations, yes, I think so. I totally trashed Frannie in my speech, yet somehow this made me sweetheart. You can get up there and make fun of the Gamma Psis for being houseless if you want, but I don't recommend it.”

“Too obvious. But whatever I decide to do, will you support it? Support me?” Rebecca met Casey's eyes, and it was the first hint of vulnerability Casey had seen in her during this entire sweetheart debacle.

Casey bit her lip. “Yes. Whatever you do, I'll support it.”
Just don't make me regret it,
she thought.

 

Ashleigh took the news incredibly well. “That's so awesome!” was precisely what she said, seemingly more relieved that Rebecca was speaking to someone in the house again, especially Casey. It was not hard to get all of the ZBZs together for a special house meeting on the sweetheart contest. Ashleigh stood at the podium, but instead of slinking off to the corner with her head hunched, Rebecca was actually next to her and Casey on the other side.

“ZBZ has decided to go in a new direction with the sweetheart campaign,” Ashleigh said.

“It seems that all the other houses have copied our great ideas to the point where the Omega Chis are becoming disillusioned, which is the last thing we want. Instead, we're going to be graceful and polite and…understated,” Casey said. “Yes,
it means less baking and cards. And gift baskets. But I assure you, as a ZBZ sister, you will have plenty of opportunities in the future for the making of gift baskets and the receiving of gift baskets. We're just asking you to hold off until after the competition ends.” She saw Abby preemptively raising her hand. “Yes, Abby.”

“How can we drop out of the race now and let the other houses leave us in the dust? What if they forget about us because we're not campaigning?”

Casey had a prepared response for that. “First of all, this competition is about Rebecca, not us, and though her being crowned sweetheart would be good for the house, we put our sisters before misters. Remember?” It was what a very old woman in a walker told them during Founder's Weekend, while going on about how many men she'd slept with in her youth in college. “Second, we—meaning Rebecca—are not dropping out. We're just pulling back on some of our overly exuberant displays. Guys are not won over with cards and balloons, and the way to a guy's heart may be through his stomach, but I'm sure their stomachs are all full at this point if they've been eating what we've been sending them, much less what the other three houses have been baking. And no more following the Omegas around campus. We're coming off like stalkers, and nobody likes stalkers. Now, I know we've all been well-intentioned, but sometimes men have trouble understanding our intentions, so this shift in policy is meant to cast us in a better light and, more importantly, Rebecca in a better light. If you would like to work on a project for the sweetheart competition, please speak to me after the meeting and I would be glad to point you in the right direction. Any questions?”

The meeting dispersed, and Ashleigh asked, “What project?”

“Oh, something huge for them to build that we can lose or burn before Saturday night so no one has to see it,” Rebecca said. “But it'll keep little pledge hands busy until Saturday.”

“Which is the point,” Casey said, glad to be in step with Rebecca, or have Rebecca in step with her—she wasn't sure who was running this show. With a little dignity, they might win this after all—or Casey might win Rebecca back to the fold. Casey decided either option would suit her just fine.

“Try it again.”

Dale turned the dial again, but all he got was static and hissing, and no response from the robot, which was still little more than piping with card boxing around the skeleton. The difference was now it had a radio receiver and they were behind a barrier of lawn chairs. “It was responding before.”

“It was making a little beeping noise. I think that was just the battery going out.”

“Then we can change the battery again.”

“No way. I'm not going near those things until we get them right.”

“They're not haunted,” Dale said, but he didn't get up, either.

Rusty sighed. He really wanted this project to succeed. He missed Vesuvius and he loved KT and he would do anything for Cappie, as a pledge accidentally said in front of him in a far more shocking manner. Cappie was depending on him, perhaps unrealistically, or maybe they were just making the
project too complicated with the radio controls. There was always the temptation to add another layer of complexity to any project to make it cooler, but that usually backfired. Still, engineers had a tendency not to learn from experience in this regard.

Upstairs, he knew Cappie was studying—actually studying. He was serious about this, at least for the time being. The idea of Cappie graduating was still something Rusty didn't want to think about either, but he didn't want to imagine Cappie still in school a year from now, moping because he'd lost Casey, who had no intention of sticking around CRU in the middle of Ohio as far as either of them knew. She would go on to a brighter and better future, and Cappie would have to follow her at least through the graduation walk if he wanted to stay in the relationship. So he was driven not to fail, enough to do an extra-credit assignment, or appear to be doing it. Cappie sometimes had problems finishing things, but when it really mattered, he came through in the end—most of the time. Rusty didn't want to see his sister disappointed, and he didn't want to see Cappie disappointed with him. Somehow, it all came down to Rusty again. “Change the frequency back to AM.”

“I don't see how that's going to do anything.” But Dale did it anyway, and the only visible reaction was that the bug zapper crackled especially hard and went out. “Except blow your bug zapper. That or it was a real whopper that flew in there.”

“No, wait. Maybe we are broadcasting a little too much. Let me try.” He took the radio controls from Dale. “Look, if they can make Tonka trucks that run into walls, we can do this. Or we can do
this.
” He pointed the antenna at the main
porch light, which was off in the daylight. Rusty fiddled with the dial, and slowly the light came on then abruptly switched off. “How are we even doing that?”

“We did add a lot of components to the radio,” Dale said. In truth, it wasn't really a radio. It was a control set from a radio-controlled toy truck with additional “adjustments” to try to tune it to the frequency in the receivers in the robot's heads. “Rusty, I may not know a lot about houses of sin such as Kappa Tau, but I know they're not generally impressed with universal remotes in comparison to volcanos.”

“Let me enjoy the moment,” Rusty said. “Then we can go back to crushing failure and ultimate disappointment.”

“Fair enough. I have to get back to the other house of sin, the one that's paying me, anyway.”

“More cookies for Omega Chi?”

“If Calvin's not fat yet, I'm doing something wrong in their book.”

 

“No! No more!” Calvin threw his hands up as Grant arrived in their room with another tray.

“These ones are cute! They're shaped like unicorns…or horses with a serious cerebral problem. I'm not sure which.” Grant held up the tray for display, but Calvin refused to more than glance at them. “What is it?”

“How can you not be sick of cookies and muffins and jelly beans and other lame examples of Valentine's Day gifts? They're like what you make for the entire class when you have to make something for the entire class but you think cards are tacky. And the one kosher kid won't eat them.”

“I just handed out cards,” Grant said. “Someone had a bad…what was this, fourth grade?”

“Fifth. And I was really into baking. Or maybe just wearing the apron, but it was between when my mom approved and when she started thinking it was suspicious behavior for a guy who didn't have a girlfriend to impress.”

“So you didn't continue?”

“Also, did I mention I was terrible at it? Because I was.”

“How can anyone be terrible at baking cookies?”

“I found a way. A way into the burn ward. So no baking and no more cookies, just on principle at this point. When is this contest over?”

Grant guiltlessly bit down on a horse head with rainbow sprinkles. “Two days. Not counting today. In which case, two and a half. And nobody took up our steak suggestion.”

“Great.”

“I think the ZBZs stopped following us. Or at least are being less conspicuous about it. Or maybe they just don't want to buy steaks because that would acknowledge that they
are
following us and listening in on our conversations.”

“This contest is making everyone crazy. I need to get away. I wonder if they'll notice if the gay vote abstains.”

“Then Rebecca Logan won't have her voting bloc of Evan and you…and me. You know, maybe.”

Calvin decided not to hold it against him. Not yet. “What's wrong with Rebecca?”

“Nothing's wrong with Rebecca, but nothing's wrong with Natalie, Shelley or Stephanie either. You have to maintain some impartiality.”

“She did help us cover up in front of your girlfriend.”

“Which I guess was kind of sweet,” Grant admitted. “Or at least dedicated.”

“A good quality in a sweetheart.”

“She's not personally very sweet.”

“I don't like people who are sickeningly sweet.”

“Yeah, I might have noticed.”

Calvin grimaced. It was time to reassure his boyfriend. “However you decide to vote, which is totally up to you, I'll support you.”

“Even with ZBZ down in the rankings?”

“And the Gamma Psi pity vote working for it. Things are just more level this year, I guess. Playing fields, I mean,” Calvin said. “And that makes it a tougher contest.” He sighed. “It's probably all going to come down to the sweetheart speech on Saturday night anyway. People get so caught up in the moment.”

“I think it's kind of romantic,” Grant said with an evil grin.

“You also apparently like unicorns.”

“Yeah.” He bit into his second cookie. “Especially with sprinkles.”

 

When Calvin and Grant headed downstairs for the meeting, they found Evan and some of the other guys transfixed by the television. On it was a little girl, probably seven or eight, on a stage that looked much too big and empty for her. Wearing a sparkly, bedazzled leotard, she was tap-dancing to the best of her abilities, which were clearly limited, as she spent the entire segment with her eyes glued to the person next to her, copying her movements a second later. She didn't know the routine at all.

“Who sent this?” Calvin said. “And who is it?”

“I thought it was Shelly, but the label on the tape says it's Natalie,” Evan replied. “But it came without a sender, so I'm
not sure if it was sent intentionally to make her look sweet and innocent or she didn't come through with blackmail money and this is someone's revenge. Could go either way.”

“If it's already on Natalie's Facebook page, I would go for the less interesting option,” Trip said. “I thought it was Shelly, too, but Shelly's
good
at dancing.”

“She's had a lot of time to practice since she was eight,” said Marco, still Shelly's biggest supporter, but Calvin was pretty sure there were a few others now. It would eventually come down to voting blocs, which were starting to form. Unfortunately for Evan, who really wanted Rebecca to win, he had only Calvin and Grant to rely on—and maybe not Grant. “It's…hypnotic.”

“Yeah,” Trip said.

The awfulness just consumed their attention until Evan looked at his watch. “Enough.” He shut the television off, to the moans of several disappointed onlookers. “It's actually starting to get painful now. And we have a meeting to start.”

They all sat down, and Evan called things to order, even if it wasn't a formal meeting so much as a discussion. Various members brought forward things they had seen or heard, but the big news of the day was what they had not seen or heard.

“ZBZ has definitely scaled way back,” Evan said and unintentionally looked at Trip. “And before anyone says anything, I don't have any extra information about this. Maybe they're frustrated, maybe they've decided to be more subtle. Again, could go either way.”

“It's not very subtle if we don't know they're being subtle,” Marco said. “Or, wait, is that the point?”

“To be subtle is to get the message across without pressing it,” Evan said. “Which, at this point, I appreciate, because I think I have a serious cavity coming on.”

The others motioned in agreement.

A pledge raised his hand. “Can we get community-service hours for delivering the junk food to a soup kitchen?”

“Only if it's sealed, and you get only one hour's worth. But good initiative, pledge. Now, the candidates. Alphabetically, for the sake of it. Natalie of Gamma Psi?”

“We know she's not a good dancer,” Marco said, to some chuckles.

“She hasn't done anything incredibly outrageous. And the Gamma Psis make the best cupcakes,” Trip said. “I have it on good authority that they don't make the hasher do it. They do it themselves.”

“Does
Natalie
do it? Because having people do stuff for you is not very sweetheartlike.”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I don't know. Am I supposed to be spying on them? I'm just repeating what I heard. Besides, everyone has the house working for them.”

“Whether they want it or not,” Evan mumbled. “Okay, what else?”

“I have her new roommate in my geology class,” Brandon said. “Rocks for Jocks,” as it was unofficially known, was still a very popular class despite it's reputation. In fact, it was rather known for meeting guys. “The roommate she got when she was assigned an opening in a freshman dorm?”

“Right, because the house burned down,” Grant said. “Let's all mention that as often as possible.”

Brandon looked annoyed. “Anyway, she asked me if I was involved in that sweetheart thing, and I said yes. She wanted
me to know that Natalie totally snores. I don't know how good her word is.”

“She wouldn't have brought it up unless she had a beef with her,” Trip pointed out, and many agreed, even Evan.

“Fine, Natalie, possible snorer, possible not-snorer. Anything else?” When no one said anything, he moved on. “Rebecca of Zeta Beta Zeta.”

There were some groans. “She's a bitch,” a pledge said.

“Did she do something bitchy to you? In the last week?” Evan drilled him.

“No. I just heard. You know, in general.”

“She is a bitch,” Trip said.

Calvin watched as Evan didn't take the bait. “Trip, I'm not starting with you. You're entitled to your opinion, and I'm entitled to mine, which is that while her personality can sometimes be abrasive, she can also be very nice and is reliable and remarkably honest. In other words, she's not a suck-up. I've known her for almost two years now, and I can testify to that. Anyone else?” No one else wanted to get involved in that feud, so they moved on. “Shelly of Beta Theta Tau. What's new?”

“She dances
well.
”

“We all know that.”

“And she's not a skank, like Stephanie. Or a bitch or a snorer,” Marco said, to a chorus of boos. “What?”

“You're not going to win people into the Shelly camp by dismissing the other candidates,” Evan said. “Maybe. Anyone else? No? Fine. Stephanie of Tri-Pi.”

“Skank!”

“Again, with the name calling,” Evan said. “Wait. Did I
just hear someone scream? Does someone in here scream like a girl?”

“What's this with the name calling again?”

“No, I mean, like a girl. Screaming. Or shrieking, I don't know.” He stood up. “Because I heard one.”

They went quiet and they could hear shuffling upstairs. Evan motioned for the others to head up. Calvin opened a door to a pillow thrown at his face as a shrieking, barely dressed blonde girl hurled it at him and leaped down the stairs and out the door.

“Melanie! Baby!” Brandon screamed, but he didn't chase her past the front door. “At least come back for your clothes!” As embarrassing and true as that might have been, she didn't, and when he shut the door, he had to face down the entire fraternity. “Okay, so she was over. I thought she left!”

“Dude, she was listening in on the meeting!”

“Then maybe we should have been in the meeting room.”

“Someone is dangerously close to sacrificing his vote,” Trip said, this time with Evan backing him up with a nod. “Or at least getting some kind of probation.”

“Look, okay, she's a Tri-Pi, but I was still going to vote for Natalie. Who would vote for those slutty Tri-Pis anyway? I wouldn't vote for them if their house burned down!”

Calvin put his head in his hands and Evan just shrugged with general discontent. “You're on probation,” Evan said. “And also, nobody bring their girlfriends over to the house until this is over, because we're not soundproofing the living room. Which we shouldn't have to do, anyway.” They all knew that, but they all knew something else now, too.

Things had officially gotten crazy.

 

At the Kappa Tau house, things were also a little crazy for a nonparty night, and this fact was betrayed by the weird ambience of half of the lightbulbs being out.