Greek: Best Frenemies (14 page)

“Everyone means the contest. Fortunately all that drinking significantly shortens our collective memories and people will be excited about it all over again.”

“And you?”

“My dad still has his private jet. Turns out it was under my mother's name so the courts couldn't sell it for the settlement. This weekend next year, I'll be at least six states away, possibly somewhere where you need a passport to get in.”

Evan laughed because he knew it was at least partially true, but that was next year. She didn't really know where she'd be, politically in ZBZ or academically in terms of CRU.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“Where do you think you'll be?”

“There's a terrifying thought,” he said. “I'll probably be at law school. Or I could get a townie job.”

“You have had a series of embarrassing townie jobs, but if you were actually a townie, I might have to break up with you on principle.” That being, if they were even still together, or they were together now, at least in the conventional way. Rebecca never did anything conventionally, and it was one of the things Evan loved about her, even if he hesitated to use the word “love” around her for fear of getting smacked.

He realized he had to answer her. “I'm applying to grad schools. The difference is, I may be entirely reliant on who provides me with financial aid. My student aid form is going
to look very strange, and I may wind up at the University of Kentucky's law school.”

“Or you could spend a year at Club Med, working as a counselor. I learned in economics class that the company does their hiring in France, so they can legally request a picture with your application. That way they hire only attractive people. It's what they value in their selection—kind of like Omega Chi.”

“Hey, backhanded insults to Omega Chi from a sweetheart?”

“Oh no! Will you take away my tiara and have someone else fulfill my duties? Which are what, exactly? Boat shows and embarrassing admissions on Larry King? Because I almost have the second one. I definitely have the sex-tape thing down pat.”

“Yeah, I can't believe I lived through that.” He was the other person on the tape, and it was when he was still with Casey. “And I can't believe I lived through this week. Maybe I'm made of stronger stuff than I think I am.”

“Please. You had to accept cookie-grams and get yelled at by people already determined to hate you because you're not rich. I had to
send
cookie-grams and get yelled at for not being more enthusiastic.”

“And that's different how?”

“It depends how much you like cookies.”

“I love you.”

It just came out, and Rebecca didn't smack him. Not this time. Maybe it was the tiara. “Don't make me smack you with my tiara.” Okay, maybe it wasn't.

“I still do.”

“That's not a word I'm willing to use.”

“Right, you don't believe in it, but I do,” he said. “And I'll stand behind it.”

“For as long as this lasts.” But Rebecca said it with a smile.

That was right. They were in college, where everything was transitory. They were silent for a moment, pondering that.

“Don't you dare lavaliere me,” Rebecca said.

“I'm glad you don't expect it, because it's not on me. And I think I'm cursed in that respect.” The only person he'd ever lavaliered was Casey, right before they broke up for good. He didn't want to break up with Rebecca—plus, he knew she'd say no in a heartbeat. That was not the answer he was looking for. “I'll settle for a normal girlfriend who just happens to have won the Omega Chi sweetheart competition.”

“And I wasn't even sweet.”

“You didn't need to be.”

 

Rebecca arrived at the house late. Not early morning late, but much later than it was when she left the party with Evan. Her crown was sticking out of her purse and she removed her shoes before stepping into the empty house—at which point, the lights came on. “Surprise!”

Maybe she was too tired to be horrified at the display awaiting her. Most of ZBZ and all of the pledges who had supported her were waiting, some in pajamas and some dressed, with streamers and balloons. Ashleigh hugged her and Rebecca didn't stop her. That was how tired she was. Or, that was what she told herself.

“We're so happy for you!” Ashleigh said, if that wasn't obvious enough. “Congratulations!”

“What happened to going out with dignity?”

“That ended when I changed into pajamas.”

“What if I came home at dawn?”

“Then even more of the food would be eaten and we definitely would have cracked the cake by now,” she said. “Casey sends her love.”

“That's the way she put it?”

“One way or another, yes. She's stuck at this Kappa Tau thing. She'll have plenty of time to congratulate you tomorrow. I can't believe you won! Oh, and you gave such a great speech! That totally did it!”

The merits of her winning—and the defects of her competitors—went even later into the night, the girls propped up by the excitement, glory and the sugar in what they were eating. Rebecca finally escaped sometime before dawn and awoke to a quiet house—no one screaming, no campaign posters strewn about, just her and her tiara on the bed stand.

Around noon, Casey called. “I wanted to congratulate you again.”

“And you couldn't wait the ten-minute walk?”

“I'm…kind of staying away from the house for a while. Long story. Short version is I'm infectious. But I am proud of you.”

“You know, over the phone it sounds even more condescending.”

“I know. And you know I don't mean it to be,” Casey replied. “What you did was beyond anything I expected you to do. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I didn't think you would honor us like that, after the way we treated you all week. Which, by the way, was shameless, but you turned it all around. You really didn't have to—I was
honest about that—but you did, and I'm grateful. And I assume everyone in the house is just as grateful.”

“If they show their gratefulness by letting me eat breakfast in peace, I'll accept that as an answer. And to be clear, I did it to crush the competition with my high-road speech, not for you.”

“Sure,” Casey said. “You know, over the phone it sounds even less convincing.”

“Fine, fine, go ZBZ. Rah, rah, rah,” Rebecca said, and they both knew that was as close as she would ever come to admitting it. “So what happened to you, anyway?”

 

Sunday mornings were always tough at Kappa Tau, perhaps tougher than Mondays in a way, especially when people didn't have class Monday or feel like attending it. The smell of beer, vodka and maybe a little vomit mixed in permeated in the living room. Red cups and some guests were strewn about, and there was no hasher to help them clean it up. The pledges were experts at escaping this duty by being long gone. And it was quiet, which didn't lend itself to people getting up. Casey woke in Cappie's arms and wearing his shirt, and he felt her movements and rolled over. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She was grateful that all they'd had were sodas. She was positive the rest of KT couldn't say the same. She rubbed her eyes, which were itchy in the morning light. “I need to shower, if it's not gross.”

“Showering with you? Definitely not gross.”

She grinned. “You know what I mean.”

“I know that I need to get all of your makeup off my face,” he said and rubbed his face, then his eyes. “And that I might
be allergic to your perfume, because I'm itchy as hell. Not that it makes me love you any less, of course.”

“Of course. And it's the same old perfume, so leave Chanel Number Nine alone.”

He dragged himself out of bed, taking the covers with him, and went into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later still rubbing his eyes, even if his face was cleaner and lipstick-free. “Seriously. What did you put on?”

“Hey, I'm itchy, too. Maybe you have bedbugs again.”

“No, they leave little bumps where they bite you, and we burned enough sheets last semester. If they come back, I am seriously calling in a priest to bless the place.”

Once they were dressed—Casey in clothes she left at Cappie's place for this reason—they went downstairs, and, upon smelling the place, decided to get some fresh morning air on the back porch. There, the remains of what never became the Rock'em Sock'em Robots were strewn about.

“I guess we're going to have to find a new Vesuvius,” Cappie said with a sigh as he took a place on the stoop.

“Is that what this robot project was about? Vesuvius?”

“And my legacy. For when I leave the house. Like Rebecca was your legacy, or is your legacy. You're leaving the house in her capable hands to keep it the most popular sorority, even if it may temporarily have been knocked from that position, and I feel obligated to leave them with something to remember me by. They remember Egyptian Joe for his volcano, the one before Vesuvius.”

“You remember Egyptian Joe because he was your Big Brother and a good president. You were his legacy. President of Kappa Tau for two years? Keeping this place from falling apart more literally than it already is for that long is something
to be remembered for. And, you know, not being a loser who doesn't graduate. Oops…I used the G-word.”

“It's fine,” he said, and it sounded as if he really thought that it was. “It's time to start using it anyway, but maybe not as often as possible.”

“You were thinking about legacies. That implies…”

“…graduating, yes. Which I intend to do with my winning paper that even the grumpy TA approves of. And, you know, my other classes that I'm actually not almost-failing. Besides, even if you were willing to come back and visit me, you can't expect Rebecca to be nice to you every time.”

“I almost never expect that. That's why last night was so unexpected.” She looked at Cappie. “But people are full of surprises.”

“I would kiss you, but I am afraid of further contact with your itching-powder-for-makeup.”

“It's not me! I used the same stuff as I always use.”

“Well, I wasn't wearing makeup.” He looked up at the knock on the porch door. “What is it?”

Beaver stepped out, followed by Heath and Rusty. “We have a problem,” Rusty said, his eyes red and puffy.

“We itch!” Beaver said. They all looked the same, in respects to their eyes, and it wasn't just the hangovers.

At which point Cappie's phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the text message. “Hey, Spitter—when I sent you to Alex's house, did you ask what he was sick with?”

“No. He just said he was on antibiotics and couldn't drink. Why?”

Cappie held up the phone, where the text message boldly read, REVENGE. I HAVE PINKEYE— ALEX.

“Pinkeye? From the guy who intentionally put his face in the punch bowl?” Rusty's eyes widened as much as they could, which given how swollen they were was not very much.

“Oh, my God. I can't go back to ZBZ. I'll give it to everyone,” Casey said. “Looks like I'm stuck here. Or at a motel.”

“Or at health services,” Rusty suggested. “Should I wake the guys up?”

“Let them sleep. The later they find out, the farther away I can be from them.” Cappie stood up. “Preferably in a motel. Spitter—” and he could put his hand on his shoulder because they were both clearly infected already “—I'm grateful for the robot project, but it looks like my legacy is going to be turning KT into a biohazard zone.”

“It's very memorable,” Beaver said.

“At the moment, a little too memorable.” He pulled out his car keys and said to Casey, “What do you think? A quick doctor visit and then a run for the border?”

“As long as no cliffs are involved.”

“Don't worry.” He kissed her, and they grabbed their stuff and headed to his car while the others were waking up and similarly vacating the premises. “I've got a plan.”

“You always say that.”

“I always have one,” he replied. “Where would I go in life if I didn't?”