Greek: Best Frenemies (13 page)

After that it was back for more cocktails. Rebecca grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar. She needed it. Her throat was
actually
a little dry. She saw Casey and Ashleigh and the others heading her way for support.

“I'll be fine,” she said when they converged.

“Not that we expected any different, but go you!” Ashleigh did a little hop. She couldn't help it. She was excited. Rebecca couldn't bring herself to blame her.

And then it was her time. She stood behind the podium as the master of ceremonies called for quiet. It was the last speech of the evening, so anticipation was building and this time nobody found any emergency calls to take or other things to do, which was exactly how she wanted it. “My name is Rebecca Logan of Zeta Beta Zeta,” she said as required, “and I didn't get here because I wanted to be sweetheart.” Rebecca waited for the gasps to die down before continuing.

“I didn't actually run for the position of sweetheart. I was chosen for reasons that shall remain forever a mystery, except within the halls of Omega Chi, and I was supported by my sisters. While at first I was dubious about being judged by people I don't know all that well, I've come to realize that the sweetheart competition isn't really about that. A woman is
chosen every year not because she is particularly sweet, necessarily, but because people care about her enough to support her. My sisters spent a week celebrating me for something I hadn't worked for and hadn't yet won. Every good attribute I may or may not possess was defined and highlighted for the entire campus. Like how I may not bake or possess certain charming qualities—while I assure you, there are others some of you are not at liberty to see—but I was prejudged as being worthy of the highest honor Omega Chi could bestow by the people who are most important in my life, my sisters at ZBZ. Knowing that I have their respect and support is more than enough for me. So, vote however you want to vote. In my mind, and my heart, I've already won.”

When she stepped away from the podium, they were clapping. They clapped after each candidate, for courtesy or otherwise, but she could read claps. Years on the political trail with her father taught her that much. She was glad to be ushered into the waiting room with the other sweethearts and away from the very sisters she had just praised, who looked more than a little misty-eyed, and that was something she was not prepared to deal with.

“Way to take the high road,” Natalie said rather immediately.

“Maybe you should have thought of it first. Or just thought to go last.” Lasting impressions were
everything.

The amiable Shelly said, “We don't know anything yet.”

“We know I didn't win,” said Stephanie, and they all looked at her. “What? The Tri-Pis, after what Melanie did? There's no way I'm getting a single vote.”

“You're taking it well.”

“I had a good cry last night. And another this morning.
And this afternoon, to make sure I'm all cried out. Which I am, but I have a huge headache and all these red dresses aren't helping my eyes. How late does the bar stay open after they announce the winner?”

They weren't kept long before being ushered back into the main room, where Evan was standing at the podium. He tapped on the wood for a few moments as Calvin came to him with the envelope, and then he opened it. “And the winner is…Rebecca Logan.”

There were shrieks in the air, not all of them from the pledges.

“We knew you could do it,” Ashleigh said. “We never doubted you. Not, like, that you need to be told that. But it's true anyway so we're saying it. Or I'm saying it. Casey?”

“I am totally saying it,” Casey said, starting to cry, if just a little. “Whatever you did, you were going to be awesome.”

Ashleigh and Casey contributed their fair share of tears while holding on to each of Rebecca's arms as if she couldn't hold herself up anymore, and maybe a small one came from Rebecca before they put the tiara on her head.

But she would never admit that, even to herself, on pain of death.

Rusty had an interesting Saturday, to say the least. It
was like a scavenger hunt that involved scavenging for people, not things, and a lot of bribes involving alcohol along the way. It also involved far more subterfuge than he was used to, but he would do anything for Cappie, and Cappie knew it. That was why he asked.

His goal was to find Alexander Izmaylov, philosophy TA, and as Cappie had learned through however he found out these things, a former engineering major at Yale. His first PhD was in computer science at MIT, and he was only
working
on the philosophy degree. In other words, he was no dummy, and he was undoubtedly a nerd, sans glasses and awful collared shirts. And he knew people, and people knew him—people who were in honors engineering programs. Cappie only had the people listed on his Facebook, and that's where Rusty started. The quest led him from dorm to dorm, where he handed out fliers for the party and begged for information on where a certain TA might be and who could talk him into
going to a party. One guy knew another guy who knew a girl he might have dated, but that turned out to be a dead end, as it turned out he'd blown her off. Rusty made a brief venture into town to talk to a townie who worked at a bowling alley, who led him of all places to a nightclub, where the owner very reluctantly—and with a considerable bribe—gave him a location.

Which led him, somewhat obviously, to the professor's house just off campus, something Rusty should have figured out immediately when Alex wasn't listed in the campus directory. By then it was already dark, and a bleary-eyed man in his mid-twenties answered the door, as if he'd just woken up. “What is it?”

Rusty handed him a flier. Alex seemed to have trouble focusing. “A party. You're invited.”
This
flier happened to contain only the location of the house on campus, not any mention of it being the Kappa Tau house. “More specifically, your presence is requested.”

Alex squinted and looked up at him. “And you are?”

“Rusty Cartwright, honors engineering.” He held out his hand, but Alex didn't shake it or make a move as though he was going to.

“Oh right, you won that grant. For the regenerating wiring. That has a lot of potential.”

“Thanks. If I could make it work for more than five minutes, it would have even more.”

“And you're inviting me to a party? You know, I'm not an engineer. And I'm on antibiotics. I'm not supposed to be drinking.”

“Let's just say some people who have your best interest at heart feel that you should get out and have some fun, and that's
all I'm at liberty to say,” Rusty replied. “People who wish not to be named.”

“Yeah, the ‘liberty to say' thing gave that away.” Alex handed the flier back to him. “No. I'm sick.”

“You're on antibiotics! And you're standing, which by CRU standards is already better than some people by the end of the night. Come on, I bet you haven't done anything all night except watch DVDs of
Star Trek: The Next Generation.
”

Alex opened his eyes farther, paying a little more attention now. “Who told you I like
TNG?
”

“Dude, computer science degree.”

Alex chuckled weakly. “Fine. Give me some time to not be in pajamas. And I need that flier back.” He took it and slammed the door behind him, and Rusty took that as the best sign he was going to get.

 

There was crying and there was celebrating, and then Casey let Rebecca be alone with Evan, which was where she wanted to be. She looked around and saw the other ZBZs happy and dancing the night away, and suddenly Casey remembered that Cappie had been trying to get her attention. “You got this?” she said to Ashleigh. “I have an appointment to keep.”

“I thought you wanted him to study.”

“I'm a sucker for puppy-dog eyes. Even if they're done through an intermediary like Rebecca.”

“She did Cappie's puppy-dog eyes? I didn't think that was possible.”

“No, she just mentioned them.”

“Girl, you are hopeless,” Ashleigh said. “Go. Go to him, as fast as your feet can carry you!”

Casey rolled her eyes at the dramatic flourish and then
called a cab to take her back to campus proper. No way was she walking all the way to Kappa Tau in heels.

At the KT house, the party was in full swing, which meant a lot of beer in tubes and finer cocktails handed out to ladies based on how much (or how little) they were wearing.

“Wow.” It was her brother who found her first, mostly by looking up from the couch. “You know you're overdressed?” He was dressed in his normal weekday clothing. He wasn't being condescending about it, and she knew that.

“Yeah, I'm aware. Where's Cappie?”

“Studying. I'm told not to interrupt him until he's done. And not to let you interrupt him.”

“Me? Wait, what, Cappie studying during a party? What is going on? And why are you watching Korean feudal dramas?”

“Because that's what the TV is stuck to,” Rusty said. “He might be a while, but he was really serious about this.”

At which point, a man dressed in painted cardboard to look like a robot walked past her, and she said, “I think I've truly lost my mind.”

“Because of the robot? Because the actual ones don't work.”

“Because I just got back from a speech where Rebecca praised me for being such a good sister and now I can't find Cappie because he's
studying.
”

Rusty gave her a smile. “Miracles happen.”

Seeing he wasn't kidding about Cappie not coming down to greet her, she sat down on the couch on the spot that looked vaguely clean enough not to immediately ruin her dress. “And why are you grinning like a triumphant idiot?”

“Because I may have had something to do with all of this. So, Rebecca won?”

“Yeah, even after she threatened to tell everyone off in the speech. Which she sort of did, in her passive-aggressive way, but in the end it was about sisterhood and how she was taking one for the team. But she had a much better way of putting it.” She watched a woman walk past in a French maid costume, and as that was nothing out of the ordinary for a KT party, she ignored it entirely. “It was oddly…touching.”

“Your makeup is running. Or was running. Now it's dried like it was running.”

“Yeah, there was some crying. But a reasonable amount. It seems to go hand in hand with the sweetheart competition. And this year, I didn't have to crush my big sister Frannie and go home to the same house as her, knowing she would hate me forever. And that Cappie still loved me even though I was with Evan. This way is much better.”

“But you didn't win.”

“It's still better. That moment was glorious, but I wouldn't repeat it. Watching other people succeed—when you want them to succeed—is better somehow.”

“'Tis better to give than receive,” Rusty said but looked up as a guy Casey had never seen before came crashing down the stairs, somewhat literally. He was wearing a black T-shirt and slacks, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“You!” He pointed a menacing finger at Rusty. “This was all…you, your plan!”

“Um, maybe. But you did have fun, right? Casey, this is Alex. Alex, this is my sister—” Rusty didn't try to continue the sentence when Alex unceremoniously dunked his head in
the punch bowl and pulled it out with a growl as he rubbed the punch out of his eyes.

“I will have my revenge—on all of you!” he said at unnecessarily loud volume. “You and…and your delicious raspberry schnapps.” He stumbled over to the door but didn't make it, instead landing in the armchair. Rusty got up to flip him over so he was at least sitting up, and he promptly fell asleep in the chair despite the noise around him and his soaking-wet head.

“Remind me not to drink the punch,” Casey said. “You are going to change that out, aren't you?”

“Hopefully the liquor will kill all the germs, but yeah, I'm sure someone will—Cappie.”

“Way to ruin my surprise entrance,” Cappie said as he descended the steps—clearly not drunk, though his attire included only a tie to his usual repertoire. “Casey. You look…far too stunning to be at this party, but I'm glad you came anyway.” Before approaching her, he put a hand on Alex's wet shoulder and got no response from him. “Spitter, assign some pledges to see that he gets home while I abscond with my fairy princess.”

“What about the anti-sweetheart competition?”

“Beaver's all over that. If he forgets, it goes to the winner of the female beer pong tournament. Now, my lady?” He held out his hand for Casey to take and escorted her upstairs, away from the action, like the gentleman he sometimes had the tendency to be. “Would you like a drink?”

“I've seen the punch bowl,” she said and followed him into his room. “So…you're throwing a party?”

“Hey, I have a lot to celebrate. I just finished a paper—a fifteen-pager.” He had drinks in his room. He pulled out
two sodas from the minifridge and she gratefully accepted, kicking off her shoes as she sat down on his bed. “That's term-paperworthy length.”

“And how did you manage that with this atmosphere?”

“I may have hit a rut about 4:00 a.m. last night. The finer points of the mechanics of what it is to be versus the final of Aristotle's four causes, so I decided to call on a master. Who, by the way, is much more manageable when he's drunk. And, like most grad students, is socially starved and needed only just the right amount of convincing from a certain fellow engineer to come to a KT party that he might not have known was a KT party.”

“The guy passed out in your presidential armchair?”

“The one, the only Alexander Izmaylov, teaching assistant to Professor Izmaylov of the philosophy department. Who, after four drinks, was more than willing to give me a few pointers in the right direction.”

“He seemed pissed.”

“You haven't seen him sober. He was great. And so is my paper, in his estimation.” He held up the printout and set it aside on the bed stand. “And so are you, for forgiving me for my academic slacking.”

“I didn't say I forgave you.”

“But your eyes tell me so much.”

She kissed him, or he kissed her. She wasn't sure who initiated it, but it was definitely mutual. “I forgive you. And I did appreciate the invitation, however it was delivered.”

“By Rebecca, I assume?”

“Eventually. At like, six o'clock, which was plenty of time. What did she make you promise to do in exchange?”

“Just hold off the main party until the ceremony was over so people could do both. I think I got off easy.”

“I think we all got off easy, after what we put her through,” Casey said and gave him the summary of Rebecca's speech. “She was…well, she was still Rebecca, but she was very…grateful, almost.”

“An appropriate tone for a speech. She is one coldly calculating bi—”

“That word was used in the paper, and seeing it in print has not endeared me to it.”

“Fine, fine. I'm sure she meant every word she said.”

“The thing was, she sounded like she did.”

“Well, maybe the sweetheart contest brought out Rebecca's inner sweetness, as impossible as that sounds,” Cappie said, leaning against the headboard. “It's not impossible. Just seemingly impossible, like me finishing a paper on time. Or thirty-three hours early. You can inspire people to do crazy things, Case. It's a talent.”

“Thank you.” It genuinely made her feel warm inside, especially to hear it from him. Cappie always meant what he said, in one way or another. “I did speak to Rebecca, by the way. I told her she could do whatever she wanted—drop out, sabotage the whole thing during a speech, put Abby in as a substitute, whatever. And this was what she chose. Kept us wondering until the last minute, though.”

“That last part does sound more like Rebecca. So Rebecca got what she wanted—maybe—and I got what I wanted.”

“Which was?”

“A happy girlfriend. Now the only question that remains is if Casey Cartwright got what
she
wanted, which is really the most important question that can be asked.”

“Well, let me think,” she said. “Rebecca won sweetheart and increased the house standing, all while not being at my throat anymore, my boyfriend proved reliable and responsible and I assume the shiner on my brother's face has some reasonable explanation.”

“Malfunctioning robots.”

“So, yeah. I would say, I pretty much got what I wanted—and much more than I expected.”

“So you're happy?”

She cuddled close to him. “Very happy.”

 

After losing her for a brief moment while he made sure everything was straight with the caterers and seeing that everyone had a designated driver home, Evan found Rebecca by his car. “That eager to get home?”

“Let's just say it's been a long week,” she said, “and sleep on the weekends is hard to come by when you're in a sorority.”

“You don't look tired.”

“I didn't say I was.”

He opened the car door for her and let her in, and they took a long drive before parking in a nice quiet overlook spot. It was a suspiciously warm midwinter Ohio night, and it was not so much the fresh air that was important but the fact that they were far away from their respective houses and all of the politics and pettiness both institutions implied, even if they were both devoted dearly to them. Besides, Evan bringing a sweetheart winner—tiara still on her head—back to his room was not very sweet-looking. They sat on the roof of the car, staring up at the stars, quiet for a long time.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rebecca asked. “Because I know you'll do anything for money these days.”

“I'm a step away from male stripping if they raise house dues again,” Evan said. “Good thing I can veto that. But I was just thinking how grateful I am that I don't have to do this again next year.” He stammered, “Not the driving or having you around. I mean the contest.”