Dirty Rush (5 page)

“God forgive us for momentarily succumbing to the institution of Chick-fil-A despite their appalling homophobic beliefs—” I said with my mouth full of food.

“Because this sandwich is so fucking good,” Jonah interjected.

“Exactly,” I said.

“Last night was insane,” Jonah said as he began to devour his second spicy chicken biscuit.

“I know. But good insane. I was literally blackout and had to do some serious deleting and untagging on Facebook and Instagram on my walk over here.”

“Me too. So, were all of those girls we were with last night BZs?”

I could sense a dig in Jonah's tone. He was never a big fan of Greek stuff—neither of us were.

“Yep. All of 'em.”

“Did you know them from before? Through Kelly?”

“No. Literally, I met all of them last night for the first time. But they knew me.”

“Is that the treatment they give to all legacies?”

“No idea. I mean, they all knew who I was because of Kelly, but still. It was for sure weird, but in a nice way.”

“Very nice of
them indeed. But also kinda twisted to see you all up in that sorority bullshit. You chilling with sorority girls was actually the most insane part of last night for me. More insane than that one dude's Jonas Brothers tattoo.”

“How do you think I felt? It was like I was Cinderella and the rest of the girls were those tiny woodland creatures.”

“Oh . . . I'm well aware. I saw the outfit they put you in. I felt like I was watching “Made: I Wanna Be in a Sorority” or some shit. It was mind-blowing. But you looked cute.”

“Thanks, Jonie.”

“You're not calling me Jonie anymore, remember?”

“But it's our thing, Jonie.”

“Fine. Call me whatever you'd like, but just know that you're opening the floodgates of middle school nicknames.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Oh, I certainly would, Taylor the Flailer.”

“That seizure was really scary!”

“Yeah, no shit, I was there. With the rest of Montgomery Middle. It was terrifying.” Jonah flicked a half-eaten waffle fry at me.

“But at least you're starting to make a good impression here,” he continued. “With your epic frat party basement fail, et cetera.”

“You're totally right. First impressions are everything. So you must be feeling especially weird about how you had to have your best friend from high school get you in.”

“Touché. That wasn't my shining moment.”

“Let's pretend you didn't just say ‘touché.' ”

“I'm comfortable with that.”

We both took long sips of our respective fountain sodas in an unspoken truce.

“So,” I asked, “I know you're not really into the all-American thing, but meet anyone fun last night?”

“In a word . . . no,” Jonah said confidently. “I'm not gonna meet a guy at a fucking frat party, that's for sure.”

He went back to enjoying his calorie-castle. Jonah was on the swim team, so he could basically eat two of everything without ever gaining a pound. He was my oldest friend that I actually still liked. We'd both played in the jazz band at school, we were both huge Smashing Pumpkins fans, and we shared an obsession with
Breaking Bad
and
Real Housewives of Atlanta
. So naturally we spent a ton of time together.

“How were your classes this week?”

“Fine, I guess? I don't know.”

“Which applied mathematics are you taking again?”

“Philosophy and Logic 116. It seems annoying so far.”

“Any babes on the swim team?”

“Eh, there's one kid. He's Irish or something and definitely straight, but I'm not even gonna think about shitting where I eat.”

“Fair. Are the other guys on the team cool?”

“Some are pretty cool, or funny or whatever. I'm still getting to know shit. It's actually all I've been focused on. I literally live in that pool.” He sounded a bit defeated.

“Yeah, I've noticed.”

“They told me I'd be able to have a life.”

“So intense. I still don't really get sports.”

“The coach has me slated for four events at our first meet. I mean, it's only against other CDU
students until the season officially starts, but still. It's tomorrow night, by the way. You should come.”

“I'm there. Obviously.”

“You wanna see a movie tonight? The new Wes Anderson looks pretty sweet . . .”

Right then, I heard someone knocking at the window near our table. I looked up and saw Stephanie and Olivia standing there looking at us. Steph was waving excitedly, while Olivia looked like she could give two shits. Steph hurried into the restaurant and up to our table; Olivia lit a cigarette.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii . . .” The word seemed to trail on forever as she scanned the restaurant, probably to check if she'd been spotted by anyone she knew. “You guys look super cute.”

“Hey, Steph. What's up?”

“Sooooo good, thanks for asking! Olivia would've come in to say hi if it were any other restaurant.”

“Oh, because they're anti-gay-marriage? I know, I'm embarrassed to be giving these people money myself, but I was so hungover—”

“Huh? No. It's because we aren't exactly supposed to be seen in fast-food places like this. It's like an unspoken rule.”

“Wait. What?”

“Yeah, we aren't really supposed to go to places like this. It's, like . . . an unspoken rule,” she repeated slowly.

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah. You shouldn't be in here either. If you're planning on pledging.”

“Are you serious?”

“Definitely
serious. Colette is pretty strict about this stuff.”

“Uh . . . okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Also, Meg texted this morning and said that we're fine with the Panhel or whatever about your situation.”

“The Panhel?”

“Yup.”

“I don't know what that is.”

“You don't?”

“No. Am I supposed to?”

“The Panhellenic Association. All the national sororities fall under its jurisdiction. Basically, girls who are interested in Greek life technically have to go and ‘visit' each sorority on campus before rushing. But since you're a major, major legacy and we love you so much, Meg said you don't have to go around and meet all the fucking tards at their weird special-ed houses.”

“Wow. Cool . . . thanks for the update,” I said as I sipped my Dr Pepper. Jonah was staring at Steph.

“We just wanted to make it easy on you. Plus, they owed us a favor in the Panhel office anyway.”

“Thanks?”

“Fuck yeah thanks.”

“Awesome. Well, thanks for stopping by and getting me all up to speed on everything.”

“Oh my God, no problem. It was completely my pleasure. Anytime. And just so you know, unless you're blackout drunk, you shouldn't be eating at McDonald's, Burger King, Subway, Taco Bell, Wendy's . . .You know what? I'm gonna just go ahead and email you a list of places that are off-limits and I'll also
include a few salad places, sushi restaurants, and coffee shops that we love. Cute?”

“Um.”

“Perf! See you later.” Steph smiled, turned, and walked toward the door.

“Oh! And one more thing,” she added from the doorway. “You should pre-game with us tomorrow night. It's always a blast and our place is amazing. You're gonna love. My sister will pick you up at nine. Bye-eee!” she sang-spoke, turning around before I could respond.

Jonah and I stared at each other.

“I'm kinda sad that you don't wanna hang out with them anymore,” Jonah said, finishing his last bite.

“They're psychos, I know. And that was ridiculous. But . . . I don't know. Last night was fun.”

“You're obsessed with them,” he said in disbelief.

“Yeah, in like an anthropological, ethnographical-study kinda way.”

“Okay, I don't really know what you just said.”

“It doesn't matter, nevermind.”

Jonah slurped the remains of his drink and started to stand up. “Whatever, I'm gonna go for a run, you wanna come?”

“No running for me. My knees are still a mess, plus I have to head to the library to do some research for a paper about current female heads of industry.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It's not as bad as it sounds.”

“Yes it is.”

Jonah and I stepped out of Chick-fil-A into the sunny Friday afternoon. It was startlingly bright out.

“That's why you're not a women's studies major and I am,” I told him.

“True. You're like the only women's studies major in the history of this university who is being heavily recruited by a sorority.”

“I'm not being recruited. It's not a sports team.”

“You know what I'm saying.”

“Jonah, it was one night of stupid girly fun. I'm not gonna join, trust me.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his arm around me. “See you tomorrow night at the meet?”

“Of course, text me the info.”

A
fter lunch, I made my way over to the library to get some work done. The Chick-fil-A is situated smack in the middle of town where all the shops and restaurants are. Students affectionately call this the River. I guess because there's a small creek that separates the town from the campus. It's actually a really picturesque, quaint town, at least during the day, when drunk kids aren't running rampant from bar to bar. Between the River and campus is the Hill, where you have all of the on-campus housing, including Lincoln Hall, where I live. Peacock Road, where all the sorority houses are, is on the opposite side of campus. The frats, however, are sprinkled throughout the residential streets by the River. CDU is a big school and it basically takes at least fifteen minutes to get anywhere.

Once on campus, I made my way across the massive manicured lawn known as the Quad. I remember the first time I walked onto it, which must have been during a family visit. I thought that it looked eerily similar to the type of university where they film movies about college. Today was no different. There was a group of three boys, all sitting on their skateboards eating fat, overspilling burritos that I'm sure they'd picked up at the on-campus Chipotle, which was frustratingly close to the women's studies building. “I'm just advocating for less Drake and more Tupac,” I heard one of them say as I walked past. The lawn was sprinkled with lone sleepers. Guys and girls just casually relaxing/reading, bags tucked under their heads as pillows.

“Hey, bitch!” I heard a blond girl yell.

“Ewwww, hiii . . .” said her brunette friend who was lying on a beach towel, in shorts and a bikini top. She was clearly joking and she started to laugh. Luckily I was standing behind them, so they couldn't see me watch their drama unfold.

“Why is that funny?” asked the blonde.

“Oh my God, really? Chill. I'm obviously not serious. Jesus,” replied the brunette.

“I literally say hi to you and you start laughing at me, it's just fucking weird and rude.”

“Well, maybe I'm weird and rude right now.”

“Oh okay, I'm gonna go. Enjoy your sunburn, whore.” The blonde started to walk away.

“Love you too,” said the brunette.

The blond girl then turned back and said, “Oh, I meant to tell you. Mom called and supposedly we're doing Saint Barths this Christmas instead of Tahoe.”

Oh my God. They're sisters?

“Ew,” said the brunette.

“I know,” agreed the blonde.

Wow.

I got on my way, passing by the Newman Fitness Center, where a group of meathead, gym-rat guys were crowded around the stairs comparing the size of their calves. One of them noticed me staring at them and cocked his head, which was gross. The entire front wall of Newman was made of glass so you could see kids working out from where I stood on the quad. I was staring right into the cardio room on the first floor.

All of the ellipticals in the cardio room were occupied by the same girl in the same outfit. I mean, they were all the same type of girl in the same type of outfit. Their tank tops may have had different bold, neon Greek letters on them, but as far as I could tell, the cardio room basically had a uniform. Kind of skinny, sort of pretty, definitely greasy. These girls looked like they spent all of their time at the gym. One of them was going so hard on the elliptical that I was worried she was going to break it or herself. She was flailing her arms and head, and I could see that she was listening to Katy Perry on her headphones because she was very clearly mouthing the words to “Firework.” I'd known girls like this in high school. Gym-obsessed, but never actually in great shape. Kinda sad. Anyway. I need to get to the gym at some point, I thought.

It was Friday, which meant most kids didn't have class and student-run clubs/organizations were given permission to plant themselves and their pamphlet-laden fold-out tables all across the brick walkways that divided the Quad into separate lawns. I guess it was their
job to heckle people as they walked by on their way to class or lunch or wherever they were going. Some girl from an a cappella singing group tried to get my attention by waving frantically and rushing toward me, but thankfully my phone rang just as I locked eyes with her. I saw that it was my parents calling, and I'd never been so happy to have them call me in my life.

“Yessssssss?” I answered, shining a huge, fake “sorry” smile at the girl, who frowned and spun back around.

“Well, hello,” my dad said, “I'm glad I caught you. Let me go grab your mother.”

I could hear him putting the phone down and then the muffled sounds of him yelling upstairs to my mom.

“SUSAN?”