Hell Week (15 page)

Something splashed against my skin, and I opened my eyes. My parents stared at me as I wiped tears from my face, too enthralled to be embarrassed.

"Don't paint her room pink, okay? It only reinforces gender stereotypes."

Mom laughed, and pulled me into a hug. I blinked away a strange dual vision, as if the connection between my sister and me still resonated. Dad wrapped us all up in his arms and right then, I couldn't feel worried about anything--my professional good fortune, my sudden sex appeal, the Sigma Alpha Xis, or any of it. I felt just like my sister--surrounded, buoyed, and loved. 20

On Monday morning, the chill in the air caught me off guard. Flame-colored leaves chased each other across the ground. Fall had snuck up on me somehow. Midterms and Homecoming were closing in fast. September had slipped away, and October was hurrying on its heels.

Ordinarily, I love autumn, but the obvious passage of time disturbed me; it fueled a nagging unease, as if I'd for- gotten something important. The more I tried to grasp it, the more quickly it floated away, elusive as a dream.

The thought brought me to an abrupt halt on the side- walk between the communication building and the science hall, forcing a clump of Kappa Phis to break apart and go around me.

The brisk air seemed to briefly blow a fog from my mind. How many times had I woken with the feeling that I had dreamed, but couldn't recall any of it? I'd been dismissing this for--God, it must be weeks now.

I pressed my fingers to my forehead. When was the last dream I could remember? It had to be over a month ago, during Rush maybe. That had to be significant. Didn't it?

A hand touched my shoulder and I whirled around with a shout. Cole stepped back, raising his hands in the univer- sal sign for "Don't beat my head in."

"Sorry! I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Yeah." I put a hand over my thudding heart, to make sure it wasn't actually coming out of my chest. And then I looked at him again, to make sure he wasn't wearing a Hal- loween costume. He looked like a zombie. The shadows under his eyes were greenish purple, as if he hadn't slept in a week.

"Are you all right?" I didn't mince words. "You look like crap."

He laughed and shrugged. "What can I say. The muse is a real bitch sometimes."

"Yeah, but . . ."

"Don't worry about it, Maggie." He started walking toward the communication building, and I fell in beside him. "Mike loved the pictures from the game on Saturday, by the way."

"Great. Thanks for the assignment."

"I had nothing to do with it."

I glanced up at him; he'd said it honestly. "But I'm just a freshman. I figured you were throwing me a bone because I don't get a byline on the column."

"A column that I loved, by the way." I'd written about my suddenly elevated attraction, thanks to my Greek status. We climbed the steps to the building and Cole held the door for me. "But you shouldn't sell yourself short, Maggie. I'm a GDI and I would totally go for you, if I were any less nuts about Devon."

GDI was how non-Greeks proudly referred to them- selves. I think it started as an insult, but the "God Damn In- dependents" had adopted it like a banner.

"Thanks," I said, not mentioning that Devon was a Sigma, too, so he hadn't exactly proven his point.

"Anyway," Cole continued as we headed for the journal- ism floor, "Mike thinks you're his early Christmas present. Said you always seem to have your camera pointed at the right place at exactly the right moment. That takes some se- rious talent. Or luck."

With a grin, he waved and turned into his classroom. For the second time that morning, I was rooted to the spot by a thought hitting me like a slap across the face.

Was I lucky? Or was something else at work, making things fall into place? Sigmas are successful, Victoria had said. Things would go my way if I took what SAXi had to offer.

I'd been slacking. Nancy Drew would never lose track of time like this. And since I had to start somewhere, I'd start with the mystery of Devon and Cole.

F F F

Spying was such an ugly word. But if you want to get tech- nical, that was what I was doing outside Devon's door. I'd brought my interview book to give me an excuse to talk to her, but she was not alone. "We know, Devon," said Kirby. I'd always thought of her as Victoria Jr., but the edge in her voice was more overt. Mrs. Abbott was velvet-gloved steel. Kirby had less finesse, or wasn't bothering with it now. "Did you think you could keep it a secret?"

"No." Devon sounded as though she was crying. "I just didn't think it would matter so much."

I heard Jenna's voice next, soothing and kind, good cop to Kirby's bully. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. But you have to give him up."

Kirby spoke without pity. "We told you that Cole wasn't right for you. No, I will not shush, Jenna. We told her! There are rules to how this works, and she ignored them."

"But I met him before initiation. I didn't know," Devon sobbed. "And by then I'd already fallen in love with him."

"I know, honey." Jenna's voice, full of sympathy. "But that's why you have to let him go, now. It'll only hurt him more if you wait."

"What if you're wrong?" Devon had found some defi- ance. "You don't know everything."

"I know enough not to break Victoria's rules."

A tiny pause, enough for a horrified gulp. "Victoria knows?"

"Not yet." Kirby's voice was heavy with implied threat.

"And she doesn't have to," Jenna said, offering a way out.

There was a longer silence now, then Devon spoke firmly. "I'll give back my pin. I'll quit the Sigmas."

Kirby's laugh had razor edges. "Sure you will. Before or after that show in the university art gallery this December? Don't act so holy, Dev. You want that showing as much as you want Cole."

The doorknob rattled, covering any answer to that. Maybe Devon didn't have one. With no time to retreat, I raised my hand as if I'd just arrived and was about to knock. The door swung open, and I nearly hit Kirby in the forehead.

"Oh!" I jerked my hand back. "I . . . Gosh, I'm sorry. I was looking for Devon to . . ." I held up my pledge book--an unadorned binder full of loose-leaf paper. ". . . you know. For my book."

Jenna brushed past Kirby and grabbed my arm, turning me away from the room and the president's dagger stare. "Not right now, Maggie." She sounded harried, maybe wor- ried. "Maybe after chapter meeting."

I didn't bother to pretend I didn't know something was wrong. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Boyfriend troubles."

"You really are serious about that no-sex thing, huh?"

"For pledges, yes." We'd reached the top of the stairs. "For actives . . . well, it depends. You have to be very selec- tive, Maggie. That's why we don't want pledges to get too in- volved with anyone before they know the rules."

"Of what? Who passes the test?"

"Yeah."

"And Devon's boyfriend doesn't? Because he's not Greek?"

She gave me a gentle push toward the stairs. "It's com- plicated and it's none of your business. Go to the TV room. There are a bunch of actives to interview there."

I could tell I'd reached the limit, pushed as far as I could under the guise of In Everyone's Business Girl. With a last look over my shoulder, I headed down the stairs. Jenna re- turned to Devon's room, where Kirby stood in the doorway, watching me leave. F F F

Holly had forgotten she was angry with me, until Brit- tany came into the TV room and started trying to organize the pledges for a slumber party. Then she remembered, and left me to go on to the meeting by myself.

Following the others down, I stopped on the bottom stair when I saw Victoria and Kirby talking in the lobby. The chapter president saw me first, and the alumna turned a moment later. "Maggie!" Victoria smiled and gestured me closer. "Come tell me how it's going with you."

Obediently, I closed the distance. She linked her arm with mine and drew me into the empty chapter room, which had been set up for the evening's meeting--table for the of- ficers at one end, chairs arranged in rows facing it.

"I saw the photo you took in the Report. And your classes are going well? Are you finding some time to socialize?"

Everything about her said that she knew--or at least had a very good idea--that things had been going stellar for me. "Yes, ma'am. A blast."

"Good. I'm glad you're enjoying the benefits of being a Sigma Alpha Xi." Her tone was a study in ambiguity. She could have been talking about purely social benefits, but I didn't think so.

"I am a little disappointed," she continued, "that you weren't elected pledge president. It would have been yours if you hadn't abstained."

I picked my answer carefully. "I didn't feel that I could in good conscience vote either way."

She looked at me. I can't read thoughts, but I didn't have any trouble interpreting hers: A conscience. How quaint. Aloud she told me, "You're already off to a great start, Maggie. Being a pledge officer could have been part of that."

I chose to misinterpret her. "Actually, at the Report--"

She turned to me, a layer of her mask falling away. "How do you think you got your position at the paper, Maggie? Do you think they'd keep you on for a moment if you were un- able to continue that column?"

The chapter room seemed suddenly empty and isolated, the air stuffy and thick. Carpet covered the design on the floor, but I seemed to feel it pulsing with life beneath the soles of my feet, like a hibernating animal.

What the Hell?

No, wait. Let me rephrase that. Something a lot like fear gripped my chest, made it hard to breathe.

How had I forgotten this?

Victoria took a maternal tone, which seemed even scarier with the stifling power trapped inside the room with us. "We discussed this, Maggie. I see potential in you. But you must assert your position over the others early. Every class has a leader, and it is important you take that role."

"Brittany seems to have her stuff together."

Victoria dismissed her with an irritated wave of her hand. "She's not an alpha wolf, just a yapping bitch cub."

The velvet gloves were off. I could keep playing stupid; I could run away, forget about the Sigmas and whatever the Hell they had under the carpet; or I could man up. Get my Forces of Good game on.

I visualized power flowing into my deflector shields, hiding my purpose. "Here's the thing, Victoria. I'm not a front-of-the-pack sort of girl. I'd rather let Brittany be president than have her fighting me at every turn." She considered me for a moment, then surprised me by laughing, shaking her head. The atmosphere immediately cleared, as though she'd released a spell. I'd fooled her, or she was pretending I had, and I couldn't tell which.

"I like you, Maggie." Her hand rested gently on my shoulder. "You're good for this group precisely because you have a mind of your own." Her fingers tightened, not pain- fully, but in firm affection. "That you are at initiation is what matters."

"I can hardly wait."

"In the meantime, you do need to be more of a presence. Spend time with your sisters, go to the mixers. Have fun."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You'll be working on the Homecoming float with the Gamma Phi Epsilons." She put her arm around me as we walked toward the door, where girls were queuing up for the meeting. "Gamma Phi Eps and SAXis make very good matches. Ask Jenna and Kirby."

"I thought we weren't supposed to have boyfriends as pledges."

"Maggie, those rules are for the girls with no under- standing of what's going on here."

"That would be me, Victoria." That much was honest.

She smiled. "You know to trust me, and your officers. As long as you let us guide you, you'll have a good head start when initiation comes around."

Initiation. It all came down to that. I don't know what worried me more--that I had to play the game until then, or that the longer I played it, the easier it got. 21

I left the SAXi house immediately after the meeting, ex- plaining that I had a midterm paper due, which was not a lie. After waking up to the chill of autumn that morning and working on Homecoming articles all day at the paper--not to mention my audience with Queen Victoria--I had a tense awareness that time was slipping away. My Spidey Sense usually kept me very goal-directed, but for some reason I'd been spinning my wheels for weeks, and now I had to make up lost ground.

The university library had two distinct halves. The west side was a century old; the shiny "new" section was built twenty years ago. They didn't match up exactly, so getting from one side to the other involved stairs and doglegs, mak- ing me sometimes feel like a hamster in a Habitrail.

I preferred the old half, which had a strong sense of con- tinuity in the musty smell of old paper, in the cramped stacks and scarred wooden tables. I followed the bread crumbs of the Dewey decimal system to the shelves I wanted, then stood staring at the spines, waiting for something to shout "Pick me! I'll answer all your questions, even the ones you're too clueless to ask."

Regrettably, the books remained silent, so I grabbed some useful looking titles, more or less at random. Stagger- ing out of the stacks under the weight of eight fat tomes, I had to wonder why the more abstruse the subject, the more impressively massive the book had to be.

I set them on the nearest table and paused to catch my breath. Somehow I was not surprised to see Justin emerge from between another set of shelves, carrying a large book of his own.

He stopped when he saw me, and we stood that way for a moment. I had a weird feeling in my stomach, sort of like d�j� vu but not quite. His hair was messy, his jeans and sweater rumpled, and I missed him more than ever.

"Are you stalking me?" I asked.

His mouth curved in a lopsided smile and he pointed to the next table over, covered from one end to the other in paper and books. "I live here. Maybe you're stalking me."

My inner voice hummed in a contented See, I do know what I'm doing kind of way. I sighed. "Nothing in the uni- verse is entirely random." "What's that?" he asked, bemused.

I shook my head. "Nothing."